The Black Swan | Reposted

Chapter 46 - Stronger

Half of me wanted to get one of those boards that the police have, in all the murder mystery movies. They compile a big board full of evidence, the suspect in the very center with a photo that is not very flattering. I doubt I could find an unflattering photo of Harry Styles, but I could try.

I knew blips, I had assumptions about him. I knew his foods, some of his dislikes, above all I knew the pain he felt for his mother took center stage. I don't know if I would have been able to move on after my mother died, it would be all too painful.

Things were prepping for the show, and, the wedding. Niall was giddy, in a perpetual state of happiness. It was adorable. He was smothering her with affection; he was also being a bit standoffish about the future, to keep her guessing.

I picked out a beautiful wedding dress, under budget, and I knew it was the one. It screamed Sarah, and it screamed Plaza wedding. Niall had mailed out the secret invites, and her closest friends and family knew not to say anything. It was the most amazing thing, she had no idea.

Harry and I had been spending more and more time together. We went to more museums, went out to dinners, he was... he seemed very confused. I could tell this wasn't the norm, having a girl hold his hand when they walked through busy streets, having a girl hug him when she gets excited, or just sweet, not lust filled kisses. I wanted to give them terribly, I was happy to be that girl. I felt so special in truth.

"Okay,' I breathed out after he set me down from one of our lifts. "Black Swan time,"

"You sure?"

His hair was sweaty, pulled back tightly in a ponytail, which I found adorable. He fucking carried hair ties with him, this guy that used to scare me, had little ponytails. He was in a loose gray pull over and shorts.

"Yes, this... in here you need to keep harping me I think. Maybe that will help?"

"I don't want to make... I don't want to make you cry anymore."

"You wanted to make me cry before?"

He swallowed "No, that's not what I meant. I just don't want to upset you."

"I think you have to, I mean, don't fucking tell me I have no substance," I shoved him with a smile. "But don't talk me up, point out what I'm doing wrong."

"Do the pinnacle scene,"

I knew what that meant, so I started over to the center of the studio, eyeing my reflection. I took a ragged breath and he played the music.

Doing these moves took strength, and en pointe dancing, it cause broken limbs, muscle damage, horrific, painful things if you're not strong enough. My mother had been making me do strengthening moves since I was five years old. I suppose I should thank her now for that.

I danced, listening to the roaring music. I thought of her, this woman, Odile, and all of what she embodied. I thought about the time I took the stage with a stripper pole, the sensuality I felt fooling around against a brick wall.

"Well?" I gasped after I completed the movements, my body aching.

He studied me. "Better but I think there is so much more inside of you Odette."

"I want more," I breathed out. "I just don't know how to tap into it."

"We'll keep exploring,' he got up, towering over me. "Just... because this is something," he spoke, tip toeing as to how we were sort of an item? "Doesn't mean we have to stop trying to find your dark side, and it's not even about that anymore, it's about finding more of who you are, without ballet."

"I'm freaked out about becoming someone I'm not."

"I wouldn't let you get too far gone."

"Swear?" he nodded. "What do you have in mind?"