dancing in the stars (ballerina x singer wlw romance)

chapter twenty-three

SUMMER

Cigarettes and coffee are part of a ballerina's diet. That phrase has been stuck in my mind since one of my classmates offered me that cancer stick and I said no.
It's never been my diet. My mothers caught me once with a cigarette in hand and I'm pretty sure Mom almost passed out but it wasn't mine– it was Mila's. We were sixteen, two new babies at the Academy with all the cool girls and Mila had accepted one just to seem cool. She almost died coughing, of course, she handed to me and I grabbed it– My moms appeared in front of me the second that thing touched my fingers. They must have superpowers or something.
But either way, that's never been my diet. Daisy thinks I should do it just because she did it in her time– and since I'm about to become the next 'her' I should. I won't, because it smells disgusting and honestly I don't wanna die from cancer.

I've been in the studio for three and a half hours now. I came at eleven in the morning, like she asked me– Daisy's on her millionth cigarette and I'm pretty sure my lungs have been intoxicated by the smell.
Can I get cancer just by inhaling smoke? Oh, god. Am I going to die?

"Bennett!" I flinch, meeting angry blue eyes. "What the fuck are you doing? Move!"

My gaze meets my reflection in the mirror and I focus on the soft melody, my body moves at the sound like a muscle memory. I feel the sharp pain in my leg, the burning in my feet and how shaky my arms feel from how exhausted I am. My eyes feel heavy because I spent the whole night trying to build a choreography for Willow's song and then, I ended up catching up on homework.
I don't think what I'm doing– I just let my body move. Like I said, muscle memory.

"Stop! Stop!" she groans, shutting down the music– the studio falling into a heavy silence. "You're– God, you're a disaster, Summer."

I try not to wince when my feet touch the floor. "I'm sorry, I was–"

"Who's the girl?" she cuts me off harshly. I freeze in my spot. My legs feel like they're about to give up so I take three steps back until I hit the barre for balance.

"What?" I feel my cheeks going red and not from the cold.

"Who is that girl I saw you with a few days? She came looking for you here. Are you distracted because of her? Are you telling me you're still a dyke?"

I can hear the loud thump-thump-thump from my heart as I stare directly at her. "What? I'm not– She's not–"

"Are you getting distracted because you have a little girlfriend, Bennett? Prima ballerinas don't have girlfriends– God, girlfriend." she laughs but there's not humor in her voice. She says it like an insult. Something dirty and disgusting.
She hides her face behind her hands, shaking her head. "Do you know how stupid that sounds? Girlfriend! You should be dating Connor to fucking promote the show! But no, you're still in your little lesbian phase and can't get over it, right? Do you know how bad does this look for my company? For me?!"

"What?" I repeat for the third time. My entire body shakes and tears start to burn in my eyes from embarrassment. "What are you talking about–"

"Don't fucking talk back at me!" she slams her fist in the metal desk in front of her, making me flinch at the sound, my entire chest feels tight and burning. "Do you know how humiliating is to have a lesbian ballerina? Never happened in my fucking life– No. I took you in, I've put years of time and money and effort into you, and you're so fucking ungrateful. Getting distracted because you have a girlfriend, god. This is pathetic."