Thread: All the Right Moves | ockeroid and colada

Charlotte lowered her eyes to the floor of his car, shrugging when he expressed his feelings regarding her allure. If you say so. She had no intention of brushing off his compliments, yet at the same time she wished she had never opened her mouth. It was more than a sensitive subject for her. She was letting a complete stranger know her deepest and darkest concerns, insecurities that proved just how fragile she was. Im sorry, Mister Antokolsky. Im sure you mean well, this is just an uncomfortable topic for me. Youre one of the few people Ive told. The corner of her lips twitched into a half-smile. You should consider yourself special. She rolled her eyes in mock vexation. Unfortunately for my soon-to-be-husband-if-such-a-thing-ever-happens, my skills stop in the bakery department. Hell have to live with disgustingly charred meat. Fair enough, right? When Kirov pointed out the lights in the house she raised her eyes, looking at her house once again. She could see the faint shadow of her mother tall and wispy and having all the right curves for a woman in her forties. I suppose so. Besides, Im sure youd rather spend your evening with your wife and not some lookalike. I imagine it wouldnt be the same? She took her duffle bag when he offered it to her. Ice, got it. August 21st and vanilla, got it. Accept help when its offered, working on it. She opened the door and stepped outside, slinging her duffle bag over her back instead of dragging it against the pavement. It was a wonder there were no holes. See you tomorrow, she said with a warm smile, and she shut the door to his car and began to walk to the front door. She turned around and waved before she finally stepped inside, waiting for what she knew would be an hour-long lecture. Do I make myself clear? Yes, mother. Ill see you after class. Charlotte slammed the van door shut, a little harder than she had planned on. The lecture from last night had turned into two hours and twelve minutes. She had fallen asleep with the ice pack she would have called it a water pack, considering that was how it appeared in the morning still on her knee. She had gotten no more than five hours of sleep. On a good note, her knee had not swelled up to any extent. The extra stretching she did before leaving the house was just the trick. It was still early. Her mother had to go to an appointment this morning, hence why Charlotte was an hour early to dance class. Her mother suggested using the extra time to stretch and make sure her previous blunder never happened again. She stormed away from the van, livid with the way her mother continued to treat her like a child. The lecture from the previous night entailed the reasons why it was a bad idea to let a stranger but hes my teacher and you never picked up the phone, was her response drive her home. It was absurd. She was still a teenager, yes, but by law she was an adult. She knew it was probably just something all mothers did, but at times she wished her mother would stop treating her like a two year old. Shaking the thought away, Charlotte trudged up the steps to the academy, fortunate to find that the doors were unlocked. The halls were lit some doors were open to various studios. She peered inside the rooms as she walked by, and when she came to her designated studio she walked inside. The door had been opened and one duffle bag was sitting on the floor. She recognized that duffle bag from last night, yet she did not see its owner. Im sure he wouldnt mind if I got a head start, she thought to herself, dropping her own bag on the floor and assuming her position next to the barre, taking ample time to stretch her muscles.