Oliver is a dancer. He's been dancing all his life, and striving towards becoming a professional has always been his focus.
Complications with his transition, skeletons from the past in form of people he knew back from his internet days, and people...
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It was Monday evening, and I hadn't met up with Grace yet. I called, and she explained that she wanted to keep a low profile for now. She hadn't attended lectures all day. I was a bit worried that she was on her own and didn't have anyone to talk to, but at the same time, I wasn't. I tried to remind myself that she wasn't my responsibility, and it was time to properly wean myself off her. All I had to do was help her this last time, and I would do my best to stop thinking about her.
"Ollie! The instructor's calling you!" someone screamed from across the noisy dance room. I looked up from my shoes that I had been tying the laces for. A frown formed on my face as I wondered what on earth I was being called for. I made sure to come to practice. I even made sure I was the first person here ever since she spoke to me the last time. I wanted to ask the person that called me if she knew why the instructor was asking for me, but the girl had already left with her friends, leaving me to overthink things as I packed up my bag.
When I got to the instructor's office I paused at her door, biting down on my lip as I retracted my hand from the handle. I didn't think I could go in just yet. I was nervous, and a little scared. What if she finally decided to kick me out of the team? I'd be devastated.
With a little effort, I pushed my thoughts to the back of my mind before reaching out for the handle to open the door. I didn't have a lot of time on my hands, and I should get this over with. The door opened, and I was soon met face to face with my instructor in her small office. Her blue eyes stared into my brown ones, and her strawberry blond hair that was starting to fade into a silver-white was pulled back in a bun. I stayed quiet, not walking into the room. You could say I was scared. I couldn't read her expression, and I feared the worst.
She smiled, making me frown a bit since I wasn't expecting that.
"You're not going to stand at the door forever, are you?" she asked. "Come in," she said, tapping her table's surface before gesturing to the seat in front of her desk. I licked my lips, feeling that they were dry. I walked in before closing the door behind me. I strolled over to her desk before taking a seat and turning my gaze to my hands. I didn't want to look at her.
"Oliver—"
"Is this about leaving the team?" Mrs. Davis' eyes went wide at my question. I was staring at her, but I looked away when my face warmed up from nervousness. "I'm sorry. It's been in my mind for a while. I don't know why you called me here," I said, pulling my fingers before hooking them on the hoops of my jeans.
The instructor leaned back on her seat as she looked at me. She still looked shocked at my question. I watched as she opened her mouth before closing it and letting out a sigh. She bit down on her lip, holding her chin as she thought about what to say to me.
"I'm not kicking you out of the team," she said in a low firm voice. She dropped her hand, placing it on the top of her wooden desk before she continued talking. "You're one of the best dancers I have. I was just frustrated with your bad attendance record and when I got the report about you I have to admit I was a little angry."
