She was a ballerina, wound as tight as the corset in her costumes. He was a hockey player determined to make a friend out of someone who didn't want any. She was willing to entertain the idea. But only because he wiggled his way past her defenses to...
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The morning was spent as expected. We ran through two parts of Act I of Cinderella, focusing on the shawl dance (stepsisters and Cinderella), and Cinderella (Cinderella, duh). Lunch arrived faster than I would have imagined, and I retreated to my belongings, where I traded my wrap skirt and pointe shoes for sweatpants and sneakers. With an hour long break before class with Brandt, the choreographer for Circumlocution, I headed outside and looked around at the available eateries, since my usual place was now three blocks away, taking note to avoid a white tablecloth restaurant across the street as the majority of my cast mates entered for lunch.
I wandered several more minutes before finding a small cafe style eatery that featured a plethora of salads on their chalkboard sitting on the sidewalk. Heading inside, I snagged a small, round table in the corner and ordered a spinach salad with no cheese and extra walnuts, nursing the water that was set down in front of me.
"Hey Grant, get me something cold."
"After Saturday's win? Anything for you, Loren." I glanced up at the sound of the familiar name and saw Loren Whitaker standing at the counter, looking quite worn out in a t shirt and running shorts. He leaned an elbow on the counter as the employee made up his drink, looking around the cafe coolly, locking eyes with me briefly before registering that he knew me. When he recognized me, he gave a wide smile and grabbed his freshly made drink off the counter, heading toward me. I panicked a moment, realizing I'd drawn attention to myself by looking at him. Maybe if we hadn't made eye contact, he wouldn't be headed toward my table.
"Hi." Loren waved a hand. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Yeah, fancy that." There was a moment too long of silence and I realized he was waiting to be offered a seat. "You can sit, if you'd like." I gestured to the seat across from me, cringing a little. As much as I would've like to spend my lunch break alone, I had a hard time not doing the polite thing, and in this case, it was offering Loren a seat.
"Sure." Loren slid into the seat and stretched out, his long legs nearly reaching past me as he crossed his ankles comfortably. He took a sip of his drink and smiled at me. "I didn't know ballerinas worked on Sunday. Or did you just say that to get out of dinner?" He smirked knowingly and I gaped a little.
"For your information, Ballerinas have very flexible schedules. Maybe I did have work yesterday." I rolled my eyes as Annabel's disappointed face flashed through my head.
"Maybe, eh?" Loren laughed as I grimaced, realizing he'd heard me. "So what was the reason? Wait, let me guess. It was that look Mikey was giving you, wasn't it?"
"I didn't even notice that." I scowled, realizing that I really hadn't noticed Mikey after he'd gone to get the drinks. Usually every time I was around him, that was all I could focus on.
"So it wasn't Mikey." Loren nodded thoughtfully and folded his arms across his chest. "The food then? Food poisoning, maybe? I've heard bar food isn't the best for sensitive stomachs."
