Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Except that now, I’ve been in NYC for three months, and it hasn’t exactly worked out according to plan. I practice with the corps for sure, I’m surrounded by dancers day in and day out, but it hasn’t been easy. A lot of the other girls are really competitive and mean, their words like daggers coated in honey.
And my heart dropped when the queen bee of the group, Viola, strolled into the studio early one morning. It was just the two of us so far, and bowing my head once more in a stretch, I tried not to look at her, focusing on the floor.
But no such luck. Immediately, Viola dropped her bag in the corner and turned to face me.
“Laney, did you put on weight?” she asked, voice as sweet as sugar. “Looks like you’re having a little trouble there.”
In answer, I tilted forwards even more, hiding my face. Because the truth is that I’ve always struggled with being heavy. Ballet dancers are supposed to be whip thin, but I’m on the curvy side. I’ve got real tits, a real ass, and thighs that are strong and sensuous, not the gristle and bone that a lot of professional dancers have.
So I gritted my teeth where Viola couldn’t see.
“No I haven’t,” I replied in a low voice. “I’m fine.”
But Viola couldn’t be deterred.
“Really?” she asked in an arch voice. “There’s definitely some jiggle there. Have you been eating cheeseburgers again?”
My face flamed as I stared blindly at the floor, fighting the urge to hit her, or cry. God, why did people in New York City have to be so mean? Why did this girl have to be so awful? Why did we have to be the only ones in the studio this early in the morning, warming up? I cursed, eyes flooding with hot tears, but made myself keep it together.
“No, I haven’t eaten a cheeseburger since the time in the cafeteria, thank you very much,” I said in a low voice, standing to look her in the eye. “And besides, it wasn’t a cheeseburger, you know the cafeteria doesn’t serve stuff like that. It was a turkey burger made from lean meat, very healthy.”
Viola sniggered, her eyes going up and down my body like it was a garbage dump.
“Well it must have been the cheese,” she giggled nastily. “I swear I saw you chowing down on a burger oozing with cheddar, that shit’s full of fat. Real ballet dancers don’t eat dairy,” she said with a huff, spinning on her heel, blonde hair flying.
And at that moment, other dancers began entering the studio, chatting and talking, interrupting us. Of course, Viola was all smiles, greeting our seniors.
“Hi Anna! Hi Rebecca!” she called to the prima ballerinas. “Hi … oh!” came her gasp.
I didn’t want to look, there were tears in my eyes still and I fought to make them stay down. I didn’t want anyone to know how Viola had just body-shamed me, how ugly and disgusting she made me feel. So swallowing thickly, I made myself take a deep breath and look up. Because I wasn’t going to be a loser, I was here to make the most of the big city, and Viola wasn’t going to win.
But when I looked up, I too gasped. Because standing there was the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. Thick black hair dropped over penetrating blue eyes, topped with a strong square jaw and straight nose. But it was the man’s physique that made my mouth go dry. He wore a black suit, but the loose fabric couldn’t hide the body of a former dancer, perfectly balanced and symmetrical. This awesome specimen was toned and athletic, with muscled thighs and strong arms, perfect for lifting girls in the air.
Trust Viola to know power when she saw it because she moved towards the man like a magnet drawn to a pole.
“Hi!” she simpered, throwing that blonde hair back prettily. “Hi, you’re Mr. Channing, right? You’re the CEO of NYC Academy?”
Oh shit, this was Mr. Channing? The Thorn Channing? Every ballet troupe is artistic, sure, but at the same time, it’s a corporation just like any other. There are bills to pay, with employees, human resources, accounting and publicity, the wheels have to turn for the business to run. And Mr. Channing is in charge of it all.
But he’s right for the job. Because once upon a time, Thorn Channing was a dancer himself. But he got injured and quit ballet, turning to Wall Street instead. And that savvy mind and sharp instincts made a fortune in finance within a couple years, the man was rolling in it. But the alpha’s first love was always ballet, and eventually he came back to dance, assuming the helm of NYC Academy as CEO.
So yeah, he was technically our boss. Or more accurately, our boss’s boss’s boss’s boss, a guy so high up in the sky that we couldn’t even see.