FLAMES

Gentle

It's dark the next morning, proof of a raging thunderstorm outside. You roll over in your bed, rubbing your face and yawning. When you check your phone, there's no calls or texts. Maybe he wasn't up yet.

The day drags on, and by three you decide to call him. It rings and rings, and you're asked to leave a message. You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Hey, Max, it's me...Just calling to y'know...talk to you. I'd love to see you. Bye."

You put your phone down, and he doesn't call back.

Two days later, on Monday, you head down to your dance studio downtown. Classes were finally opening back up, and you were in charge of hosting a class. In the empty classroom, after everyone had filtered out, you call Max. He doesn't answer again.

You sigh, gritting your teeth and deciding to practice a routine for later that month. You mess up more than usual, thinking of the fact you were being ignored by the one person you didn't want to be ignored by.

"You're sloppy today."

You sigh, a half laugh. The owner of the studio, and one of your mentors since you were a kid stands against the doorframe.

"Thanks, Christine," you joke. She waves her hand.

"No, this isn't like you. What's wrong? You've been taking this routine so seriously since...March. We weren't even in the studio, and now you're messing up."

You sigh, wiping a hand over your face. She was an important person to you, and she knew you well, but you didn't even know if you could fully explain what was going on with Max. She raises one of her perfectly groomed eyebrows, expectant.

"I just...I met a guy. Like, three weeks ago. We've seen each other a few times, and he just...he told me two nights ago that he liked me. And then he left. We haven't talked since. I called him and he isn't even picking up." She clicked her tongue, going to roll up some floor mats. You stared at yourself in the mirror, biting your lip.

"Oh, so it's men trouble?" She asks, distaste in her voice. She'd been divorced a few times and lived in her overly lavish apartment with her cat now. You laugh, going to pack your stuff up, nodding. She sighs. "Have you considered that maybe something came up? What does he do?"

You immediately think of something. "Shit, he's been going to protests. Maybe he got arrested. I don't think he'd just ignore me." She turns to look at you, and you bite your thumbnail.

"Stop biting."

"Yes, ma'am," you smile, your hands back at your side. She waves her hand.

"Maybe he did. But, at the end of the day, you're you and he's him. You can't control him, so it doesn't matter, hun. Focus on yourself, and when he shows up, he shows up." She walks back over to the door. You nod. You decide she's spot on— if Max wants you, he can come get you.

"You're right. Thanks, Christine." She flashes you a thumbs up, and you laugh.

She calls your name one last time and turns back. "Keep up the good work, and I'll have you front and center in the show next month. They have scouts there."

You beam. That's exactly what you'd been hoping for.

"Thank you! I won't disappoint you." She points a finger before she leaves, a glimmer in her eye and a smile on her lips.

"And stop thinking of men. It makes you sloppy."

You pack your things up, locking the door and planning to return the next day.