Balancing Love ☞︎ A Jesse St. James fan fic

Just Call Me A Mime BeCause I Should Never Sing Again.

The next day I had spent in a weird half daze. Ever since it happened. Jesse almost kissed me. Jesse was going to kiss me. I knew he was. After he had left, Madam had me perform the battle of the mouse king and if I do say so myself, I killed it. She had little to nothing to say about it. That's was I call progress.

After dance I had no more distractions to distract me from the thought of Jesse. I didn't know him much, or for too long, but there was this sort of... instant connection that just made me want to be around him. It wasn't really something you could explain. Or at least explain to anyone's satisfaction.

Now it was the day after and I still felt dazed, my thoughts going in and out of Jesse and if he liked me, if he thought I was cute in a cute way or a 'you're younger than me so you can only be cute' way, or if he had actually meant to kiss me. Who knows exactly what he could've been doing.

I get shaken, well jumped, out of my thoughts when a finger snaps in front of my face. One snap, two snaps, three snaps, four. I jump up and gain my focus, moving my gaze from a random section of air over to Madam Resnakov.

"What are you doing? You're suppose to be dancing!" She scolds me, her voice harsh. I stammer, opening and closing my mouth, trying to figure out what to say.

"I-I-I don't know. I lost focus, I apologize Madam." I say with a slight bow of my head. Anything to not have to look in her eyes.

"Well, FOCUS! Grande Jete's across the room." Madam ordered, turning around to play a piece by Beethoven.

I internally groan. Those things were incredibly annoying...

"Now!" She snapped. I take a deep breath and quickly walk over to the corner of the room. I prance; one, two, three, jump! "Full split, Madelaine. Full split!" Madam shouted. I sighed, shaking my head, trying to focus on the jump.

Prance; one, two, three, jump!

'DAMMIT!' I scold myself now, thankful my thoughts were focusing on something other than Jesse St. Fricking James...

"Again! You need to be doing this better! You are suppose to be a prodigy. You are not suppose to act like a ballerina will the skill of an actual eight year old!" She shouts as I do another grand jete.

I hated how everyone used that against me. I am not perfect! I catch myself grinding my teeth in anger and I stop. I needed to stop and focus. That's all that mattered now. Not my teacher, not that stupid word, and especially not Jesse St. James. I prance; one, two, three, and jump. My feet grace the floor, landing lightly in the perfect position for the jump. For a moment, both of us are silent. The sound of Madam Resnavoc's cane sounded louder than the actual music that continued to play. I stayed in position while she crept inches from my face.

"Finally. Now do that again. Twenty-five times, across the room." She demands sternly. I nod, getting ready to do as instructed but my phone ringing interrupted us. Madam began ranting in Russian. I walk over anyway and pick up the phone. I groan, out loud this time. Jesse St. James. I debate actually answering it. Should I? When did I actually put his name in my phone? Did he do that?

He probably doesn't think twice about what happened while I'm over here, a complete mess about it and getting yelled at for it. What he thinks is weird, is the fact that I don't answer. Which will make everything else weird and will add weirdness. Which will probably lead to me admitting I thought we was gonna kiss me and before that I thought he was gonna kiss me when all he did was kiss the corner of my mouth. I mean seriously, what is that? What the hell does that mean?! Before I can debate and psych myself out about this any longer, I sucker up the courage and hit accept, bringing my phone up to my ear and waiting for him to answer first.