time to fly,, '' Zaryn

[nicolai ivan glazcov]

Point shoes tossed to the side, near the corner of the room in a black bag that the boy always carried around, Nicolai sat on the smooth wooden surface, his split long and extended in a perfect one hundred and eighty degree angle and his stomach laid nearly flat on the cool floor as he took in a deep breath. It wasn't easy, and anyone who told you that clearly hadn't taken dance. If you didn't keep on top of your flexibility, it could be lost within weeks, a fan kick losing nearly half an inch in height could be the thing separating you from the male lead in any show that they did. Nicolai's cheek brushed against the floor and he extended his toes, feeling every muscle in his legs ripple until perfectly out and relaxed, slowly pulling his body from the floor and letting his legs meet in front of him, ankles touching, toes pointed in a diagonal. The rest of his class was already gone, and that was why his point shoes were tossed into his bag and replaced with his white slippers that he normally wore. It wasn’t like men usually wore their point shoes, most of the time they were kept safe until a specific role came up that required them and then they would come out.



Nicolai had to practice, no, he needed to practice. It had been much too long since he had been in the studio by himself, nearly a week, and there was something that he knew he needed to work. Grasping onto the bar, he hoisted himself up into a standing position and pointed his toes once more making sure that every part of his body was ready for the exercise of its life; or something close to it. With one swift movement, after realizing that he was ready, he turned on the stereo and took a few steps back making his way to the center of the room. He could look in nearly every direction and see himself, every flaw that could happen and that would happen. The ipod finally turned on, playing a song he’d not heard in a while, Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri. It wasn’t something that he was used to dancing too, and it was a bit slower than he had wanted, but it would work. Picking his spot, he stepped into position and waited for the chorus, going up on his toes and pulling off fouette, after fouette, keeping his speed in tempo with the song.



The door could be heard over the music, but nicolai didn’t take his eyes off his spot. Ending with a three turn Pirouette and landed perfectly balanced, his eyes locked on his spot. Nicolai looked to the door, seeing the mass of pretty blonde curls standing at the door. It made him feel lightly self-conscious in his shorts and tights, his light cotton shirt over his chest. Pulling his feet together, and standing at his full height he looked to the girl, his accent thick as it escaped his lips, “Well hello there iz there zomething I can do for you?” his r’s rolled like the purring of a tiger waiting to pounce, but the smile on his face was hard to miss.

[/justify]

[zaryn kate oliver]

she didn't usually go down this hallway. it was off-limits to her; not in the way that there were actual rules, but in the way that she was a music student, and had absolutely nothing to do with the dance program at bouscher academy of the arts. zaryn kate oliver had always told herself that the dance wing was not for her.

yet here she was, bored out of her mind, her black converse hitting the ground at even intervals as she walked along the hall, fluorescent lights shining down from above with a dull humming noise. it was silent aside from that, until a single note pierced through the silence and then the words, and zaryn find her mind automatically bringing them to the front, because she knew them.

i know i can't take one more step towards you, 'cause all that's waiting is regret, and don't you know i'm not your ghost anymore, you lost the love i loved most... zee felt an involuntary smile coming to her lips. she loved this song -- jar of hearts, by christina perri. it was beautiful. and someone, judging from the fact that the music was coming from behind a door just to her right, was dancing to it. a good choice, to be sure.

i learned to live half alive, and now you want me one more time... cautiously, zaryn opened the door just a little crack. beyond it was a narrow, dimly-lit hallway, a set of two puny little stairs, and then it opened up into a large dance studio, filled with mirrors. it was one of those kinds of doors that closed itself slowly, slowly, and as she let it fall behind her, there was a soft whirring sound. she made little to no noise as she took a few steps down that little hallway, reaching the steps quickly.

and who do you think you are, running 'round leaving scars, collecting a jar of hearts and tearing love apart... there was a guy there. in practically the exact center of the dance studio, and he was turning around and around and around and around... she almost felt dizzy, just watching him. how the hell was he not dizzy? it was that weird technique that dancers used, to be sure, where they whipped their heads around so quickly all you could focus on was their faces. unless you were looking at their feet -- the way the one foot stayed practically still while the other whipped out, around, in, out, around, in...

he was cute, she decided, judging from the small amount of him that she could actually focus on as he continued to turn and turn and turn. the door finally clicked shut behind her, and she leaned against the wall a little as she watched him. he was good. gay, probably -- okay, no probably about it -- but a good dancer, nonetheless. you're gonna catch a cold from the ice inside your soul, so don't come back for me, who do you think you are?

the music continued in the background, but now zaryn was distracted by the fact that the guy had stopped turning and was now standing awkwardly in the center of the dance studio, staring at her with wide green eyes. definitely gay, she thought as she took in his apparel. ballet tights, black shorts over them, and a shirt, light and cotton and too tight to be truly comfortable for a straight man.

he stood up tall and an accent she could only place as russian came flowing from his lips. "well, hello there. iz their zomething i can do for you?" he smiled, a little awkwardly, but definitely a smile.

he was so gay.

and now she felt awkward. for all she knew, his many turns could have been private, and she could have been intruding on a very emotional, albeit dizzying, moment. "uh, hey," she managed to say as she looked back at him, blushing a little. zee ran her fingers through her blonde curls and took a deep breath. "i, um, just heard the song you were dancing to -- and i love that song, so i figured i might as well come and see what..." she trailed off a little and shrugged. "anyways, good job. i would've fallen over at the end of all that... turning."

he probably thought she was insane. "i'm zaryn," she said, raising her shoulders a little in a small shrug. "and you are... hmm. you look like a cory, to me. is your name cory?"

word count; a bunch
wearing; this, plus dark skinny jeans and black converse
muse; jar of hearts, christina perri
notes; this... house... is... so... cold... :P

[nicolai ivan glazcov]

There was something with male dancers and girls that always threw him for a loop. It wasn’t the way that they acted, no, for they were always nice to him, not only because he had done nothing to them in the first place, but he was strong – maybe not huge and grotesquely muscled, but that lean muscle that was just as scary in a fight. Not to mention that his accent also seemed to add a bit of fright into some guys, girls – mostly swoon. In all this didn’t really matter. Feeling the pain arch and crack like a whip in the soles of his feet he stopped his spinning and brought himself to an upright position gazing at the girl who was leaning on the door. Under the knit hat, there were plumes of curled fluff that framed her milky face, holding her curious blue eyes and her pretty little lips. Looking her over quickly, but taking in everything, he looked back up to her eyes and smiled, “hey..? hay is for horses.” He grinned amused. The girl didn’t seem lost, but she also didn’t seem to mean to end up in here with him. Either way this was going to be a great experience for the both of them.



Her cheeks were tinted a light red and Nicolai laughed, “there is no need to blush, im not angry, your not angry. Nothing to be embarrassed about.” Taking his eyes off the girl, he walked over to the radio and turned his ipod off, knowing that eventually something even more annoying would come up on his ipod and he didn’t want to deal with that. He was already wearing his light tights, the last thing that he needed was something else making him look like something he wasn’t. Turning his head lightly as she spoke, he picked up the little device and smiled, “Well im glad you like it. Itz not my favorite, but it did prove to be a good enough song for my fouettes.” He walked over to his bag and dropped the ipod next to his pointe shoes and looked over to her, looking at her black converse and the skinny jeans.



“Fallen…? Not if you spot.” Nicolai watches her from the corner of his eye as he laced his fingers around the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head, letting his shirt brush across his own curls and finally off, to stay tucked into his right hand as he looked back to her, rolling it up in his hands as he spoke, his chest finely sculpted. “I wouldn’t have let you fall, and its not nearly as hard as it looks.” When he said that he meant it, but he also meant that it wasn’t easy either. Pulling out his button up shirt, he dropped his other in the bag, and put it through each arm, watching her carefully. Once each button was on he took off his shorts and pulled on his jeans. The dark washed color contrasted against his white shirt and he leaned against the bar and took off his slippers tossing them in the bag with the rest of his stuff. “Zaryn. Ive seen you around, but not without your boots.” Nicolai pointed at her shoes and laughed. “No, no. Im Nicolai. Nicolai glazcov.” He walked over to her and grinned, putting his hands in his pockets, “But if you want to call me that, you can.”

[/justify]

[zaryn kate oliver]

"hey...?" he repeated it, raising his voice a little as he smiled at her, a little inquisitive smile. like he was asking a question. "hay... is for horses." he grinned, as if this were greatly amusing. zaryn laughed. had this russian gay guy never heard anyone on campus greet one another? "there is no need to blush," he added in his thick accented voice. god, it was a really pretty voice. and he was pretty, too, of course. even though he was gay. "i'm not angry, you're not angry... nothing to be embarrassed about."

turning away, he took a few quick steps across the dance studio to the stereo, unplugging a rather nice ipod from it. the music stopped, cutting off in mid-note. "well, i'm glad you like it. it's not my favourite, but it did prove to be a good enough song for my fouettes." slowly, zaryn repeated the word in her mind, sounding it out carefully. fwah...tays. weird. what the hell were those?

"fallen?" he smiled a little. "not if you spot." what was this, dancer talk? did he think she knew about that kind of thing? but she was distracted from saying anything about that, because all of a sudden the cory-dude was pulling his t-shirt up from the hem at the bottom to reveal a very finely sculpted chest. "i wouldn't have let you fall, and it's not nearly as hard as it looks." zaryn blushed still more as she stared at him, trying not to be too obvious about the fact that she was gawking at his abs.

all too soon, gay cory pulled out a white button-up shirt and began to do up all of the buttons, closing the curtains on the wonderful muscles. and then he slipped off his shorts and pulled jeans on over top. "zaryn..." he repeated her name, oblivious to the fact that she was staring at him in shock. guys -- even gay ones -- didn't normally go about changing their clothes in front of girls they didn't know. "i've seen you around... but not without your boots."

the guy gestured at her converse, and zaryn looked down at her feet. it was true that she did generally go around wearing cowboy boots as opposed to converse. it wasn't that she didn't like converse, of course. she just liked her many pairs of boots better. her blonde hair would have fallen in her face as she looked down if she hadn't been wearing a milk-chocolate coloured toque she'd forgotten about. zaryn shrugged as she looked back up at him. "i love my boots," she said, nearly tonelessly, like she didn't care what he thought.

she sort of did, but that wasn't what mattered.

he threw back his head and laughed. "no, no... i'm nicolai." it didn't suit him as well as cory did, not in her opinion. "nicolai glazcov." he put his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he came across the dance studio towards her. when he reached her, he grinned. "but if you want to call me that, you can."

she smiled back up at him. "i think i will," she said after a moment. "i think it suits you better than nicolai does." oops. that may have come out a little more bitchy than zee had intended it to. what if he took offense? "i mean, nicolai's a cool name... but i've sort of always wanted to know someone who i have a totally different name for than everyone else does." she laughed nervously.

word count; too lazy to count
wearing; this, plus dark skinny jeans and black converse
muse; starts with goodbye, carrie underwood
notes; fouettes are fun. but i suck at them.

[nicolai ivan glazcov]

The girls laugh made him smile. The sound of a girls laugh always turned his frown from in a down turned position to one that leapt to the sky and curled at the ends, showing the little dimples in his cream colored skin. It didn’t take long Nicolai smiled at the girl and spoke, “You have a very melodic laugh, do you…. Sing…? Maybe…?” he didn’t mean to be nosy, but from experience, most of the singers that he has befriended had beautiful voices that couldn’t be matched by much. “I mean, I don’t mean to pry – just it seems like you would.” Running a sure hand through his curly locks and grinning he listened to her speak softly about her boots. Damn it. He didn’t mean to offend her. “What I meant was, that I normally see you in them – so that is what I expected. Your boots are you. Very nice.” looking down at her shoes he grinned, “though you don’t look bad in what you are wearing either.” Nicolai chuckled and leaned carefully on the ballet bar making sure his eye contact was with her the whole time.



A smile formed on his lips as she spoke, “Oh you do now?” it had been the first time someone had actually told him that they would rather call him something than the name that his mother had given him. It wasn’t a name that americans heard a lot – mostly because it was a Russian name – and when they heard it, they seemed to drool and make sure that they called him that. It was kinda, funny, that she wanted to call him something different. “It’s fine. If you want to call me that, then ill make sure that you are the only one that calls me that.” His smile grew wider as she seemed nervous. Why be nervous? It wasn’t like he was a god, so there was no reason to fret.



“so Zaryn, what shall I call you, seeing as you aren’t calling me by my name, is there a nickname that you would rather me call you?” He took his hand out of his pocket and reached for her shoulder, pulling a fallen blonde strand of hair off of her jacket. Showing her, he lightly let it fall to the floor. Nicolai hoped that she didn’t think he was strange for doing so, but either way it didn’t really matter. “I can call you zaryn if that is what you wish.” Shifting from one leg to another he grinned, “now that you found who was dancing, is there anything I can do for you? Or will you be on your way…?” in a way, he didn’t want her to leave – not in the way that he wanted to do anything with her – more like he reminded him of something that he really missed. Picking his bag off the ground he tilted his head looking at her when it clicked. She reminded him of his sister, the little girl who he had missed terribly since he had made his way to the school. Nicolai took a deep breath and wondered what would happen next.

[/justify]

[zaryn kate oliver]

he smiled at her. god, he had dimples. why did the gay guys always have to be the cutest? okay, not the cutest... but really, really cute. it wasn't fair. "you have a very melodic laugh," he told her. she blushed again and prayed he didn't notice. "do you... sing? maybe?" god, how had he known that? she opened her mouth to reply, but he mistook that for zaryn's being offended or something and added, "i mean, i don't mean to pry -- just... it seems like you would."

"um, yeah," zee replied, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "i do, actually. you got that just from me laughing?" it hadn't even been a proper laugh, either! nervous and quieter than normal and sounding sort of like... a sheep. yes, a sheep.

"what i meant," he said, glancing down at her converse again, eyes clouding with some kind of worry or something -- what the hell was he worried about? -- and not fully meeting her eyes, "was that... i normally see you in them -- so that is what i expected." she'd always wondered why foreign people didn't seem to use contractions. formal speaking, like when you were writing those essays that she absolutely hated to write. "your boots are you. very nice," he added, and grinned suddenly, and leaned against the wooden contraption thing that looked kind of like a fence. what was it called? "though.. you don't look bad in what you are wearing, either."

she smiled back at him again, fairly certain that it was impossible not to. he had really nice eyes. green, like a jungle. they were really pretty and, of course, easy to get lost in. "oh, do you now?" he said, with another of those beautiful grins on his face. "it's fine. if you want to call me that, then i'll make sure that you are the only one that calls me that..." cory's eyes are like a jungle, he smiles, it's like the radio...

"oh, my god," she mumbled, forgetting that he existed for a moment as she reached into her bag for a pen and what would, knowing her luck, probably end up being a receipt from buying twenty dollars worth of candy or something embarrassing like that. ignoring cory for a moment, she leaned over, flattening the paper over the leg of her jeans. zee didn't have the guts to flip it over and look at the other side -- all she cared about was that this side was blank, and she had a pen in her hand and lyrics running through her mind -- and, even more rare, a melody to go with them.

sketching out a few rough, messy musical notes, she scribbled underneath, cory's eyes are like a jungle / he smiles, it's like the radio... what the radio had to do with any of it, she wasn't sure. folding the piece of paper in half and straightening up, she slipped it back into her purse, making sure it was secure in a pocket so she wouldn't lose it, and smiled at him. "sorry about that... brainwave." she shrugged.

"so, zaryn, what shall i call you? seeing as you aren't calling me by my name, is there a nickname that you would rather me call you?" he asked. and then, before she could respond, he was reaching out towards her and she froze, like a statue. his fingers plucked a loose strand of hair from where it had fallen onto her jacket, and he held it up for a moment, as if to make sure that she'd seen that was what he was doing, and then released it. zaryn watched it as it fell slowly to the floor, twisting and turning as it floated downwards, slowly, slowly. "i can call you zaryn, if that is what you wish."

zaryn shrugged as the strand of hair hit the floor. "it... doesn't really matter," she told him carefully. "i mean, some people call me zee. you know, like the letter? but not very many people." she smiled at him again, lips tight together, the corners turning up slightly. "you can, if you want. or you can make up a completely new name for me. like i'm calling you cory."

"now that you found who was dancing," he said curiously, "is there anything i can do for you? or will you be on your way...?" he picked up his bag and tilted his head at her. vaguely, zaryn wondered if she looked different, and how different, from that angle.

"well, cory," she said, giggling slightly at the sound of his not-name coming from her mouth. hmm. she didn't particularly want to be alone again. it was no fun. "i don't really have anything to be doing. so... maybe you want to... go for a walk?"

word count; too lazy to count
wearing; this, plus dark skinny jeans and black converse
muse; this love, maroon 5
notes; :P

[nicolai ivan glazcov]

Nicolai was starting to think that the bright red color was something that had made itself a home on her cheeks and it was nothing to look or worry about. He could ask her about it, but if anything all that would do is make her berry like cheeks turn a darker red as blood filled in under her eyes. Blushing was a natural human thing, but really, how much of it was natural skin tone and the rest was a blush. Zaryn’s uneasy hand brushed her bangs out of her face and she spoke, lightly at first, but loud enough so that the Russian could clearly hear her. “well of course I could tell, there is something in the way that singers laugh, and even in how they talk is usually different. I think it is in the vocal lessons that they get. They know how to correctly use their vocal chords, well to the maximum capacity that they were meant to be used at.” The smile that was on his face didn’t seem to ever go away. Some say he was born that way - that genetically it was painted to stay, others thought that he was just him being a happy person. It was few times that he was happy or amused enough for him to show not only one but both of the dimples that he carried on his cheeks.



The girl smiled back up to him and he slipped his feet into his newer shoes of his own and got a tighter grip onto his bag. Nicolai’s clothes, and dance shoes weighed the small bag down and he absentmindedly wondered how much lighter it would be without the blocks of wood that they called pointe shoes in there. Zaryn smiled as he spoke and he continued to speak as she gasped searching for something in her purse. Confused, Nicolai arched his eyebrow and watched her, as she pulled out a receipt from the bag, and a pen, where she quickly scribbled something down. Of course he was interested in what she was writing, and even more so as she hunched over and continued to write, scribbling something else that didn’t look like words before she stuffed it back into her purse and looked back up to him, murmuring something of a small apology. “no, do not worry about it.” the confused look slowly washed off his face and his lip curved up again, “I guess it is a writer thing, can’t stifle that now can you?”



Watching the hair fall to the floor she shrugged, speaking about what some of the other people had called her, and even going to the extent of saying that he could call her something completely made up, like she was doing for him. Thinking it over for a quick moment, Nicolai chuckled, “I will call you zaryn. I think that it is a unique name that fits you. No need to say anything else.” brushing a wrinkle off the front of his shirt he listened to her, without looking. When she had finished he shrugged himself, ”What time is it? If it is close enough to lunch or dinner we could go get something, if that is alright with you?” he could tell from her tone that she didn’t want to be alone, but there was something about how she acted around him. She had to have thought he was gay, and asking her to dinner would probably stop that. It wasn’t like he thought he was going to get anywhere with her, he didn’t want to, but he thought it would be a nice gesture.

[/justify]

[zaryn kate oliver]

"well, of course i could tell," he replied, as though it were obvious. "there is something in the way that singers laugh, and even in how they talk, is usually different... i think it is in the vocal lessons that they get." zaryn refrained from admitting that she'd never had a real vocal lesson; she didn't count the music classes here at bouscher, because they weren't one on one or anything remotely similar. "they know how to correctly use their vocal chords, well, to the maximum capacity that they were meant to be used at."

well, damn, now she felt guilty. that he seemed to know enough about singing to get by, and she didn't even remember the word for those fancy turn thingies he'd been doing. something starting with either an f or a t, she thought, but she couldn't remember. and she was sure there was a name for that fence thing, too.

cory slipped on his shoes and picked up his bag, watching her with a little bit -- okay, a lot -- of confusion in his pretty green eyes. hey, he was russian, right? he could probably speak russian. god, that was another brainwave. sighing a little, she fished in her bag again for the receipt and the makings of her newest song, adding to the bottom: he whispers songs into my window in words that nobody knows... "sorry... again." she blushed a little more, hoping that he wouldn't think she had some sort of blushing condition or something. was there such thing as that?

"no, do not worry about it," he said formally, and smiled at her again. he had a gorgeous smile... "i guess it is a writer thing -- can't stifle that, now, can you?" he chuckled and continued, "i will call you zaryn. i think that it is a unique name that fits you -- no need to say anything else." she probably should have felt guilty here, too, since he was going to call her by her real name, and she just went ahead and changed his because she liked it better. kind of bitchy, wasn't it? but she didn't think about that. just nodded in agreement.

"what time is it?" he asked her, and she frowned slightly, reaching for her pocket and the blackberry curve inside it. "if it is close enough to either lunch or dinner, we could go get something -- if that is all right with you?" here, zaryn froze, her phone out of her pocket, the screen lit up. hmm. maybe he wasn't gay, after all. but he had to be, right? it was obvious. wasn't it?

"it's almost two o'clock," she answered him, carefully sliding her phone back into her jeans pocket and smiling at him softly again. "i'd love to go get something to eat... i'm starved," she admitted. "where would you be suggesting?"

word count; um... a bunch?
wearing; this, plus dark skinny jeans and black converse
muse; some song my dad is listening to, which he clearly likes
notes; it's snoooowwwwiiiinnnngggg!!!!

[nicolai ivan glazcov]

Sometime there was something about how he was the one speaking that made him worry. It wasn’t all the time that he was the one that made most of the conversation. Really, if he wanted to divide the conversation that he had had with the blonde, it was almost even, she just wouldn’t talk when he did. It was a good quality, but there was something in the way that she looked at him that made him worry, was there something on his face? Was there something wrong with the way he was speaking…? He couldn’t say for sure why exactly she was acting a bit weird, but it may just be her personality. There was something else that washed over her as he finished speaking. Zaryn was easily confusing Nicolai. “What are you thinking exactly….?” It wasn’t as if he needed to know, but sitting there confused wouldn’t really help him either would it…?



Zee bent over her knee and continued to write, this time something else, it was on the same paper, but it seemed a bit longer than what she had written before. Whatever it was, there was nothing he could really do about it, but get even more confused about her whole person, not just the crazy blushing girl who wrote a lot and refused to call him by his actual name, but cory instead. It was amusing to watch her continually do things that he didn’t understand, it just made him want to understand her even more. Pulling her phone out of her pocket she looked at it as he spoke, but she literally froze in midsentence as he spoke to her.



“Oh- I get it.” Nicolai mused, slightly amused, but all together it actually kind of annoyed him. Just because he was a male dancer didn’t mean he was gay. “you think I like dick because I dance?” his words came out harsher than he had wished them to and Nicolai rolled his eyes, “really? Come on zee, you aren’t that close minded are you?” pulling his phone out of his pocket he looked at the time too, the last thing he wanted to do was upset the girl, so he backtracked a bit, “i. am. Straight.” He arched an eyebrow, “ and I can prove that to you if you would like.” He leaned down closer to her, for only a moment, before pulling away, a grin on his face – he didn’t want to scare her.



Pushing the phone back into his pocket, he shrugged, “well I’d love to take you somewhere. I rather not be gay though.” He mused lightly walking past her and holding the door open. He would easily forgive her, she wouldn’t be the first, or the last to think he was gay, but he wanted to make sure that every single girl at the school knew that he would love to meet them.

[/justify]

[zaryn kate oliver]

cory was definitely doing most of the talking in this situation. how awkward he must feel, thought zaryn; the cute guy changing in front of the insane chick with the mega curly blonde hair and what seemed like a permanent blush who kept writing random things on the back of receipts for crappy gas station candy. the confusion in his eyes made her blush still more, fingers tensing around the slip of paper in her hands; it creased slightly at the pressure, but that didn't matter.

"what are you thinking, exactly...?" his voice trailed off at the end of this question. damn it! his eyes were all narrowed in the direction of the receipt and the song, which she couldn't let him see, now could she? quickly, she stuffed the paper back into her bag before he could focus on the words written on it.

"uh, i'm thinking that you probably think i'm a freak," zee told him, as honestly as possible. "because i keep acting weird and writing songs on receipts -- you know -- and... oh." it was as though she couldn't stop, her mind couldn't refrain from dumping inspiration on her. with a light sigh, she pulled out her newest song again and wrote quickly, trying to duck her head far enough towards the receipt that her blonde curls would fall forwards and hide it from view. there's pretty girls on every corner; they watch him as he's walking home, saying, does he know? will you ever know? you're beautiful, every little piece, lo--

"crap." out of space. damn it! blushing again, she looked through her bag again as quickly as possible, and found nothing. the words she'd been about to scribble down were running through her mind like a slideshow, white letters on a black background, rolling past, on and on and on. taunting her. hurry up and write us down, zaryn, or we'll be gone. forever. and nothing you come up with will be as good as us, just like we are right here.

you're beautiful, every little piece, love, and don't you know, you're really gonna be someone, ask anyone... the colour on her cheeks deepened still further, staining her pale skin as she looked up at cory. "uh... you don't happen to have any paper, do you?" the receipt was crumpled in her left hand now, a ball of wonderful brilliance (or so she thought, right now, at least; she might look back on it later and hate it) that he couldn't see. and when you find everything you looked for, i hope your life leads you back to my door, oh, but if it don't, stay beautiful... see? it was one of the best things she'd ever come up with while talking to a gay guy she called the wrong name before.

the look on his face at her evident surprise scared her. "oh. i get it," he said, his tone clipped and almost cold. damn it! "you think i like dick because i dance?"

shit. now she felt guilty! and rightly so, said the voice in the back of zee's mind. she shouldn't have just gone ahead and assumed anything -- hadn't she heard the saying enough times? don't judge a book by its cover. shit, shit, shit. what if she'd just ruined any chance of a friendship with him? "really?" he rolled his eyes. cute. "come on, zee, you aren't that close minded, are you?"

"uh... no?" she cursed the way that her voice went up at the end of that, signifying that it was a question. "i, uh, didn't think that. i... i..." she was dead. he was going to hate her. "just... you know." she blushed again. why couldn't she stop doing that? she wasn't usually like this. then again, she wasn't usually in situations like this, either, was she? "i'm... i'm sorry." she raised her shoulders, closer to her ears, an apologetic smile on her face. please don't be mad at me, her pretty blue eyes shouted. please. please, please, please.

cory pulled out his phone to look at the time, even though she'd just told it to him. "i. am. straight," he told her, pronouncing each word carefully. "and i can prove that to you, if you would like." suddenly, he was leaning down towards her and she was just staring back up at him -- cory finds another way to be the highlight of my day, i'm taking pictures in my mind so i can save 'em for a rainy day -- but then he was moving away again, grinning like an idiot, and she was almost glad. sort of. as beautiful as he was.

"well, i'd love to take you somewhere," he told her, still smiling that beautiful smile of his as he shoved his cell phone back into his pocket. "i'd rather not be gay, though." cory held the door to the dance studio open for her, and she smiled politely to him as they walked out. her mind went crazy, a frenzy of insane chatter and singing in the background and a melody all running along on that slideshow now. it's hard to make a conversation when he's taking my breath away; i should say, hey, by the way... and then we go into the chorus again, she thought, pleased.

word count; um... a bunch?
wearing; this, plus dark skinny jeans and black converse
muse; mine, taylor swift
notes; sorry for the wait!