luna

you, however, had to work double time to get into the position that you’re in now. being one of the weaker dancers walking into the studio proved to be a challenge, but pushing yourself the extra mile started to have its payoff when you noticed that instructors started shifting their attention from the prima ballerinas to little old you. 

all anyone could ever talk about was how you had snuck up on the competition. how the teachers all now loved you, and how you and george were almost at the same level. 

well that just about tipped george over the edge. after those rumours started circulating, all that he could help but do was assure everyone else that he was clearly the better dancer, and that you could never compare to him. he didn’t even know you and here he was shitting on you to the entire company. and thus started the beginning of a lengthy rivalry. 

it didn’t help that the choreographers would constantly pit the two of you against each other. from subtle comments to full on auditions that just the two of you were called back for, the competition between the two of you could only thrive. snide comments were made and dirty looks were cast...come to think of it, you couldn’t recall a time where the two of you had actually conversed properly. for as long as you can remember it was venomous rows over who was the better dancer. but now you were a dance couple. someone you had always seen as a source of rivalry was your teammate. your partner.  

for the first hour and forty-five minutes of training, your new choreographer, ari, had been warming you up and doing across-the-floors to assess your skills. so far so good, as there was little room for george to throw any jibes your way. for the most part to two of you kept to yourselves; it was the next six hours of rehearsal that you were scared for. 

you weren’t one to use your phone on break, so after putting your phone back in your bag, you crossed to the centre of the room to do some extra stretches in areas that felt tense before this rehearsal kicked your ass. where you were accustomed to the softness and delicacy of contemporary and lyrical dance, you had a feeling that ari and pierce had agreed on a more energetic dance for this week. 

“ok,” ari projected, clapping their hands together to gain you and george’s attention, “for this weeks competition we’re going to be doing the jive-” 

‘oh goodie,’ you thought to yourself. george had now put his phone away and was meandering to the middle of the floor, sitting in line with you but a good ten feet away. a healthy ‘fuck you’ distance if you will. 

“-and so the concept for this dance is that y/n is the person in the club that stole george’s heart, and he’s trying to get them to go out with him but they keep running away.” 

you felt the tips of your ears turn red, which slowly flooded to your cheeks. you heard george sigh gently beside you, a sigh that definitely meant that he was somehow already sick of your shit. 

so not only would the two of you have to be dancing with one another, but have to pretend to be romantically interested in the other. wonderful.

ari played the song for you both. in terms of typical jive music, the beat was a little slower with more staccato emphasis and opportunity for complex moves, ari explained. they spent time with both you and george detailing the choreo before putting you two in hold. the moves were relatively simple, but it was a lot of time spent holding george’s hand, much to your dismay. 

“right, can we try from the top of the music?” the two of you nod tentatively. this was bound to be a shitshow. 

the music echoed through the studio, and you strut to center stage to take your place, meeting george halfway. reluctantly taking his hand that was now outreached, you straightened your left leg to kick the right one back into a ball change before george pulled you towards him, swapping his hands so he could spin you as you chasséd out of hold. after a double spin under yourself, you extended your arms into an “L” shape, stepping wide and letting your left leg drag to meet the right.

you dove into a set of kicks and flicks that ari had taught you. in the mirror, you could see that you and george were almost perfectly in sync, perhaps george was getting more height on his kicks, but it wasn’t half bad for you considering that he was a professional latin dancer and you had barely started. 

at the conclusion of the chorus, you did a double pas de bourrée while slightly turning yourself inward to face george, who you promptly slammed in to, completely throwing yourself off balance. before you could register what was happening and save yourself, you were toppling over yourself and slammed to the floor with a loud thud. 

the music stopped abruptly before ari joking yelled “what happened!” you gently nursed your now throbbing elbow, sitting up expecting a helping hand from george. instead he was about fifteen feet away from you, frustratedly running a hand through his hair.

“so towards the end of the solo sequences, y/n just got a little too close to george before going back into hold, so make sure not to travel too much during the pas de bourrées. let’s go again!” 

george sighed exasperatedly, still not having said a word to you. this was going to be a long day. 

“he’s so frustrating tina!” the two of you were sat in tina’s living room over a first aid kit and an abundance of lo mein. while tina was devouring her noodles, you carefully placed hello kitty plasters over your, namely the cuts on your shins from where george had ‘accidentally’ kicked you. “he didn’t apologize nor did he even acknowledge the fact that he kicked me! i swear he did it on purpose...” 

“he bibn’ aporhohize?” she asked between a mouthful of veggies, which you roughly translated to “he didn’t apologize?” 

“no!” you exclaimed, “he didn’t say anything to me at all, it was so awkward all rehearsal long.” 

“well did you talk to him during the rehearsal?” 

“...no.” you admitted sheepishly. 

she sighed. “well maybe he felt awkward too. he’s kind of...shy-” shy is one word for it- “so maybe you should try and talk to him tomorrow. just like, say hi or ask him something about the dance, you know? try and diffuse the tension.” she suggested. 

“yeah...yeah you’re right.” you admitted. 

and so the next day, you went into rehearsal with a goal. or perhaps a death wish. you were going to strike a conversation with george davidson. 

you made sure to arrive at the studio ten minutes before eight o’clock. that gave you at least fifteen minutes to secure your bearings before george strolled on in five minutes late as per usual. 

so you can imagine your shock when you waltz into the studio and george is already warming up in the middle of the room. “good morning.” you choked out panickedly. george’s head swung and he looked at you as if you had spoken a foreign language. you gave him a half smile before sheepishly throwing your dance bag on one of the hooks by the door. 

your plan was to stretch in the middle of the room, as george was doing now, before running through the dance once or twice before george arrived. despite his unexpected presence, you weren’t going to let george deter you from your original plan. 

“what are you doing?” he questioned venomously as you gently plopped yourself next to him on the floor.

“stretching,” you replied as nicely as you could muster, “is that an issue?” 

“...no.” he muttered. the two of you stretched side by side, following the motions of the stretches from group rehearsals and gradually synchronizing your movements. you both finished at the same time, and fell into an unbearable silence for a couple of minutes. 

you didn’t really want to practice the dance with george here, but it was five past eight, and no sign of ari. it felt unprofessional of you to not use your time in the studio wisely. before you could overthink it, you pushed yourself off the floor and set yourself upstage left. just marking the movements, you strut down to center stage, before ball changing into a spinning chasse, pretending to take george’s hand and- 

“are you not going to ask me to practice with you?” george’s voice startled you. for once it was genuine sounding, not mean or malicious or anything of the sort. it was sort of raspy, but velvety sounding nonetheless. 

“uh, i didn’t think you liked me, or would want to practice with me. that’s just the impression i got.” 

“i don’t like you-” his bluntness took you aback- “but what i do like is winning. so forgive me for wanting to practice to give us the best shot at getting first place.” 

you were silent, but he assumed his position. he tapped his foot four times...5, 6, 7, 8. you strut towards him before you could give it too much thought, taking his hand and launching into the combo. something about dancing in complete silence almost made the experience more intense, but this intensity pressured you to do better. in the absence of ari and the lack of music to hide behind, you felt the overwhelming need to impress george, a feeling you thought you’d never experience. 

you were conscious that you had never fully nailed the pas de bourrées back into hold. taking what ari had reiterated last time, you minimized your steps, and miraculously you found yourself in a position where you could grab george’s hand and he could spin you beneath his arm. you swear you saw a look of shock, maybe even something along the lines of pride, flicker across his face, but he contorted it back to a face of concentration. you launched into a series of twirls and ball changes that you had vaguely practiced with ari but not in time with the music. 

george spun you back to face him, and you both froze, standing closer than you both anticipated. that was the extent of the combination that you knew, and a vacant look crossed george’s features. you felt his hot breath fan across your face gently, over and over again. 

“oh. my. god.” the two of you snapped your head towards the door. george dropped your hand; you hadn’t realized your hands were still interconnected. “i don’t know what just happened, but that was a thousand times better than whatever the fuck was going on yesterday,” ari declared, “in fact, i’m changing the choreo based on that little moment you two had just there. you two have impeccable chemistry.” 

george’s cheeks flushed tomato red. you were sure your face was probably a similar color given the rush of heat that flooded to your cheeks, but you simply attributed it to the workout you engaged in seconds before. 

the rest of the runs you went through that day couldn’t compare to the moments you and george shared that morning, but the beginning of the dance was now entirely blocked. however, what was supposed to be a romantic start to the routine felt awkward and stiff. 

rehearsal for monday technically didn’t start until two o’clock, but your schedule worked out that you finished your college classes at twelve. you decided to head into the studio at one o’clock, giving you an hour to warm up and practice the dance without sensing george was judging your each and every move. 

tina decided to join you last minute, sitting against the mirror and eating the rest of your lunch that you couldn’t stomach. ever since saturday morning, the constant churning in your stomach had been persistent, and managed to get the better of you today. 

“what time do you finish rehearsal tonight?” you ask, continuing to move through the motions of the combo. 

tina checked her phone. “i have ballet from two o’clock until four o’clock and then an hour of acro, and one on one contemporary for another hour, so i’ll be done at six.” in your absence, tina had been selected to do the contemporary solo in the group dance, and though you were a little jealous, you were too proud of her to care. 

“lucky,” you groan, “i’ll be here until nine tonight, with george no less.” 

“straighten your leg more.” tina critiqued. “is it really that bad?” 

“yes.” you assured her. “it’s just so awkward. like we’ve spent so long hating each other and now we have to pretend to be attracted to each other while dancing, it’s odd.” 

“you don’t think he’s attractive?” 

“i didn’t say that.” you said a little too quickly, tina quirked her head. “like he’s conventionally attractive, i suppose, but it’s his personality that makes him ugly.” 

tina’s eyes widen towards the end of your sentence, eyes darting towards the door. you turn and see george, hesitating to enter. shit was it two already? 

nope. the clock read 1:37PM. he was early once again. you started panicking. had he heard what you had just said? 

“yeah i’m glad you broke up with him, he was my least favourite ex.” tina declared. good cover. 

“sorry i didn’t realize there was a lesson in here.” george explained curtly. 

“there’s not. i’m practicing our dance. tina’s just keeping me company.” george half smiled at tina, giving her a half nod. 

she sort of nodded back. “well i’ll leave you guys to it.” you snapped your head to meet her eyes, glaring at her. “get some practice.” 

as she was starting to leave, she leaned into your side whispering “talk to him” so soft you could have mistook it for the breeze from the air vent. and with that she was gone. 

“so...how were your classes today?” you asked, taking a stab at making small talk. 

george rolled his eyes. “don’t pretend to be interested in my day. can we just practice?” he snapped. ouch. fine. 

there was something magnetic in the way the two of you danced in the complete silence. nothing but the occasional squeak of one of your shoes, or a huff or grunt from one of you. wordlessly you rehearsed until ari walked through the door at ten past two. 

once again you fell back into a rhythm of ignoring each other, plodding slowly through the dance, and waiting until the next day when you both arrived early to run it together. it was unbearable, and after less than a week you were already questioning if you had made the right decision. dance was something you had always loved, even though the rehearsals were a pain, you genuinely adored the feeling that dance ignited in you. and it’s not that you had stopped enjoying it through this process. if anything, ari had done a great job helping you learn to love jive.

it was george that was making this entirely insufferable. not only did you feel like you couldn’t talk to him, but the studio had become a place where you couldn’t make a mistake without being scrutinized by him. ari could definitely sense that something was up when they pulled you aside to ask why you hated george. 

“i don’t hate george!” you exclaimed. “he’s made it abundantly clear that he hates me, but i just get frustrated with him, that’s all. i’ll make do.” 

“you’d better,” ari warned, “pierce wants to see the dance soon to see how it’s coming along.” 

to say your heart sank was an understatement. you just knew that pierce was going to be disappointed in you. george was the professional dancer, so any mistake would immediately fall onto your lap. 

thursday you head straight to the studio after your classes. it was twelve, which gave you plenty of time to rehearse each part of the dance, which you had finished blocking the day prior. you had anticipated that george would head into the rehearsal around one thirty, so you wanted to get there as early as possible to spend as much time alone as you could. 

but reminiscent of your first day of training, through the small window at the top of the door, you could see the familiar mop of brown hair. thank god you caught it before you mindlessly walked in. before you could let pride get the best of you, your arm gently pushed open the door and you crept in as silently as possible. 

despite the lack of music, you knew george was practicing his part of the jive. he sprung lightly from foot to foot, almost levitating through the air as he jumped around. his kicks were so sharp, it was like you had taken a video and sped it up, but it was happening in real time in front of you. 

though you had been practicing right next to him for five days straight, you hadn’t taken a minute to step back and watch what your partner was doing. you knew he was a good dancer but this was a whole other level of entrancing. 

where you struggled to keep your face neutral looking throughout the dance, george was pulling facial expressions that could easily fool you into believing that he was completely enraptured by the person he was dancing with. the idea that he could ever look at you like that while you were dancing made your heart pound and your stomach flutter. it was odd to think that he could look at you like that when you both hated each other. 

you couldn’t help but to stand there with your mouth open. once he finished the dance, instinctively, you exhaled, “wow.” 

george visibly jolted. his face immediately turned beet red, and for the first time, he quickly became reclusive in your presence. “you’re an incredible dancer.” you added timidly, trying to diffuse the tension that quickly filled the room. 

“yeah, i know.” he huffed. moment ruined. 

“sorry for complimenting you, jesus fucking christ.” you muttered, throwing your bag to the floor angrily and storming to the middle of the room to stretch. 

“why are you being short with me?” he asked coldly. 

you froze. “why am i being short? have you heard yourself talk to me over the last five days? forgive me for slowly getting pissed off when you constantly belittle me, meanwhile i’ve been nothing but nice.” 

“belittle you? oh that’s rich coming from you. you’ve been nice to my face but it’s very clear how you actually feel about me.” he exclaimed in a sudden outburst. 

you scoffed, “i’ve been trying to conversate with you and be nice to you because-” 

“look. we’ve hated each other for as long as i can remember. can we just keep it that way? i have no interest in being friends with you, and i’m sure you feel the same, so you don’t have to pretend to be nice to me, in fact it’s rather condescending when you do so.” after not taking a breath throughout his whole spiel, he finally inhaled. “from the top?” he asked stiffly. 

you were quite taken aback by the whole interaction that you were stunned to silence. you were fuming, so much so that you were worried if you opened your mouth, you would fly off the handle. though you wanted nothing more than to scream at the idiotic boy in front of you, you didn’t want to blow the opportunity to compete.

both george and ari could sense throughout rehearsal that you were off your game. you made stupid mistakes all because of your pent up rage. all because of george. you pretended not to notice ari and george awkwardly side eyeing each other when you would have to restart because of something little that should have been cleaned by now. but quite frankly, you were too tired, too achey, and too fucking angry to care. 

that was until pierce monohan strode through the door with exactly fifteen minutes of the rehearsal left to spare. ari was giving the two of you notes before you ran it one final time. your heart rate elevated at an alarming rate, you had to fix your shit just for this one last rehearsal. 

all three of you ignored pierce’s presence, though you could feel george sit up straighter next to you, and ari started over pronouncing their words. the room felt hot and so much smaller than it had prior. 

before you could comprehend what was happening, you and george were standing in your starting positions. george’s eyes flickered over to pierce before he offered you his hand and smiled awkwardly. you were tempted to promptly stamp on his foot for being a fake bitch, but you held it together. 

the beginning of the routine started smoothly, it was only when it got the the partnered part of the dance where it started heading south. you almost missed george’s hand, which you managed to grab, but it was a close call. then the two of you bumped into each other right before the finale, and to top it all off, you actually did step on his foot ever so slightly right before the end of the song. to the ordinary eye, these mistakes could be looked over in an instant, but the routine had to be perfect in two days time. 

the room fell into a tumultuous silence the second that you and george struck your end poses. ari was too scared to clap. all three of you couldn’t help but glance at pierce, who looked rather solemn. he pushed himself off the mirror he was leaning against, and slowly meandered towards you and george.

pierce looked you up and down once. you braced yourself for impact.

“george. you have two days to fix your attitude.” 

you go of a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, watching pierce stride away. before you could even register what had happened, george was in the process of angrily storming out of the room. 

fix your attitude. what did that mean? you texted tina about it, and she too was puzzled by it. you were the one who had messed up thrice throughout the run, and yet pierce hadn’t a word to say to you. 

friday’s rehearsal was eerily quiet as you and george were intently focused on the final touch ups before the competition. where it didn’t quite feel real at the beginning of the week, the competition rapidly approaching had both you and george facing the heat. 

ari decided to add a bunch of last minute changes too. you were now hand springing into a complex lift, and a dramatic dip was choreographed into the end that you and george could never nail without him dropping you, but ari insisted that it was kept in. 

by the time you got home on friday night, you were positively battered, bruised and aching all over. not only had your body taken a beating, but your self confidence was at an all time low. simply put, you did not feel ready for tomorrow, and you felt like you were going to let george and ari down. 

and sure, somehow george was going to get the brunt of the blame from pierce, but that somehow made it worse. george already resented you enough, and you didn’t need pierce making george hate you more than he already did.

before you could even get a decent night's sleep, your alarm was already sounding, and you had to make your way to the studio to be driven to today’s competition. where there was usually a bus to bring the whole company to the competition location, a small black car was waiting. large enough to house george, ari and yourself, plus all of your luggage for the day, but small enough to cause you and george to lightly be pressed up against one another. 

you would think that after a week of dancing in hold together that this wouldn’t phase you. but george sat tensed up for most of the drive. after a while, you felt his muscles relax, only because he had fallen asleep with his headphones in. you, in your rush to get out of the house, had forgotten airpods, so you tasked yourself with trying to figure out what george was listening to as a way of keeping you occupied for the next however many hours. 

he was listening to the song from the routine on loop. even in his sleep he was the most intense dancer you had ever met. 

you and george got ready in complete silence in your allocated part of the dressing room. something about it was partly awkward, and partly comforting. on one hand, the tension was unbearable, yet at the same time it felt like you were both getting ready to go out to dinner or something the way that couples do when they have nothing to talk about because they simply know each other inside and out. you were already feeling anxious from the high stakes of today's competition, so you chose to indulge in your made up fantasy, even if it was with someone as dislikeable as george. 

by the time you were called backstage, the competition was well underway. you could hear from the sheer amount of applause that there were a lot more people than you were expecting there to be in the audience. and the dancers that were currently dancing were a hell of a lot better than you were. 

your breathing became heavy and you felt faint. the world started to spin, and it was as if all the anxiety in your body had hit you all at once. 

“y/n...y/n!” george whisper-yelled, drawing you out of your thoughts, “you need to take deep breaths, otherwise you’re going to pass out. breathe with me.” 

under any normal circumstance, you would be flipping the fuck out at the fact that george had just grabbed your hand and was gently pressing it against his sternum to guide your breathing. but given that you were on the brink of a panic attack, your usual urge to smack him subsided for the moment. you synced your breathing with the rise and fall of his chest, which began to calm you down. 

“the first time i had to compete solo, i panicked so much that I had to withdraw from the competition. it’s normal to freak out, but you can’t panic now. we’ve both worked too hard and been through enough hell having to deal with each other to give up now.” you can say that again. “your best performances have always been when it’s just the two of us in the studio. so when we get out onstage, you have to pretend it’s just us, yeah?” 

“george, i don’t know-” 

“please,” he begged, “if we don’t do well pierce will kill me.” 

before you could give it a hell of a lot of thought, your names were being announced, and george was pushed you to the wing. somewhere along the way, he had interlocked his hand with yours, and was now dragging you onto the stage. little bitch. 

you made the mistake of looking straight into the audience during your entrance. there must have been a hundred or so faces staring at you expectantly. you felt george’s hand grab your face, and he forced you to look at him. “it’s just us, remember?” 

the music, a thousand times louder than what the studio could produce, began thundering overhead, and the lights slowly came up, illuminating the boy in front of you in soft blues and purples. his hand still rest gently on your cheek, and slid slowly down your neck and your arm as you pretended to be dancing a club in slow motion, sending a chill through your body as he did so. the lights went down and rose back up to a pale orange, softly cradling george’s features and painting him to almost look angelic. 

you stepped out into a little tiptoe steps, george quickly following behind you. you kick ball changed into a spin and george circled you, a look of wonder and adoration plastered on his face, like you were the prettiest person he had ever seen. you couldn’t help but smile back at him, and you grabbed his hand and let him spin you twice before launching into a series of classical jive kicks. you spun towards him, gently kissing him on the cheek before running offstage and sprinting to where you would make your entrance on stage left. 

you made it just in time, beginning to strut onstage as george looked at you upstage left. a look of relief flashed across his face once he realized you had made it in time. like always, you met george halfway, and took his hand, straightened your left leg to kick the right one back into a ball change, swapped hands, spun as you chasséd out of hold, and extended your arms into an “L” shape, stepping wide and letting your left leg drag to meet the right. 

kick forward, kick forward, kick left, before ball changing and swinging your left foot in front of your right leg four times before launching your left leg into a high kick. 

kick forward, kick backward. strut to stage right whilst flicking your wrist outwards. do the twist, blow a kiss. time to double pas de bourrée without bumping into george. success! there he was smiling at you, and you felt fully immersed into the dance by now. 

it didn’t feel like y/n and george being forced to do a dance to represent the company. not at all. rather it was just the two of you dancing around and having a good time. you had never seen george look so happy and excitable for such a period of time, and you relished in it. the way his eyes shone lifted his whole face. where he was typically reserved, he was open and available to you, expressing himself in ways you didn’t deem possible. 

he held you closer, he felt looser in his movements, and his heart was beating out of his chest from adrenaline. he added a few odd caresses of your body a few extra looks and smirks. he wasn’t usually one to go off book, but what he was doing felt natural, it felt right. 

you had made it to the last section of the song, and arguably the most complicated section of the dance. you hadn’t once nailed ari’s additions from yesterday, and it was now or never to make it right. 

you backed up away from george flirtatiously, waiting for him to kneel before running and going into a handspring, swinging your legs over george and pulling yourself up to sit on his shoulders. you feel him roughly hold your hips in place, and you had to trust him as you flung your arms out into the air while he spun the two of you around. you could feel his hot breath between your thighs, which was momentarily very distracting and caused an uproar of butterflies in your stomach. 

all too soon, it was time to dismount, and you could feel georges hands move to the top of your thighs to hold you against him while you flipped backwards into a handstand. once your hands flattened against the cold floor, you swung your legs back over yourself and managed to plant your feet back on the ground without losing your balance. 

george was right there waiting for you when you straightened up, took your hands and pulled you towards him. he turned you under his arm and you pressed your back flat against his chest as you both did toe touches in sync. he spun you back beneath his arm allowing you to snake your arm around his torso, and he did the same to you, spinning around the floor like giddy teenagers in love. you engaged in some final traditional jive kicks before you did a triple spin and dropped right in front of george. 

please lord, do me a favor, you thought to yourself. 

and a favor he did. whilst you were half anticipating falling straight to the floor, as had happened many a time in rehearsal, george had pulled through and managed to just about catch your weight right at the last second. one hand looped beneath your back, whilst the other has hooked under your thigh, which he pulled towards him. instinctively, you cradled his face with your two hands. it could have been a scene straight out of a movie. 

the audience ruptured into a burst of applause so suddenly that it startled you. george lifted you up smoothly, smiling at you as he did so, and you walked offstage ‘pretending to be in love’, as ari had instructed you to do.

but in that moment, you were truly in love. not with george but with the moment. you had done that, not making a single mistake and not feeling an ounce of pressure from george, who was smiling and giggling throughout the whole routine. this felt like a new chapter in your life, and you felt like you had finally broken george, who had surprisingly been nothing but nice to you since the routine began. 

but once you turned to him to congratulate him, or hug him, or something along those lines, his expression had turned sour once more. “i’ll see you later.” he spat, skulking off to the dressing room. 

the shift in attitude was jarring. so much so that it seemed to transport you back in time. you hadn’t realized it before, but in the dimly lit backstage light, where you could barely see the motherfucker, you realized that george was the spitting image of your abusive ex-boyfriend. 

(long) authors note + taglist below!!

a/n: would you believe me if i told you that my roommate randomly up and left randomly and i spiraled into a depressive episode? i finally feel included in the fanfic writer stereotype where they have delayed chapters because of some fake sounding traumatic event. can confirm that the fanfic writer curse is real, the universe is simply against fanfic!!

on a real, i hope you enjoyed this chapter, and i’m planning on grinding the next few chapters out as fast as possible, not only because i’ve missed writing, but i simply don’t know what is going to happen next because me and (ex)roommate are fighting!!!!

also, this account is NOT my main tumblr, so i see your comments and follows, and greatly appreciate them but i cannot interact on this account which is so goddamn annoying. thank you for the positive responses and i’m very excited for this series!!! love you all <33

something about his movements were utterly addicting in a way that made you want to punch him for being so good. that was where half of your hatred for him was rooted. the other half the hatred has to do with the fact that the man is an utter arsehole, claiming that he’s better than you are at dancing. now this fact isn’t necessarily untrue, but it’s certainly rude of him to acknowledge it. 

at least you had one thing on him; you were the prized contemporary dancer of the academy. where george was just as good as the next guy, you excelled. it was just about the only thing you could hang over his head. 

you headed to the studio early on the warm april morning. it was the five week mark until final competitions for the year, which meant today was the day that the solos within group dance would be choreographed. for any other dancer, this fact would make their skin crawl in anticipation of the lucky soul who was able to snag a solo. but you were confident you had the solo in the bag. this years choreography was almost all contemporary dance, and you were positive sheila, your wonderful choreographer had done this on purpose to allow you your time to shine in group dances, a luxury you often did not get to indulge in. 

your closest competition was tina, but even then tina could admit wholeheartedly that you had a slight edge on her. and so you marched into the studio with your head held high, awaiting the promising fate on the other side of the studios glass pane doors. 

and as if the morning couldn’t get any better, george was nowhere to be found. george, being his lazy self, typically came into warm ups about five minutes late every saturday without fail. it was now ten past and no such dramatic entrance was to be made. at fifteen past, the double doors swung open with such vigor that you knew it wouldn’t have been george. he may be an arse, but he would never disrupt the warm up quite so aggressively. 

curiosity got the best of you and your eyes snapped up to the door only to lock eyes with pierce monahan, the owner and head of the dance academy. you quickly averted your gaze, and almost lost your balance after internalizing that you had accidentally just stared down the one and only pierce monahan. 

monahan strode across the room quickly and silently, as if he was hopping across clouds. it was fascinating how a man of such large stature could move so quietly. he whispered quite loudly in sheila’s ear, asking if he could “steal her” whatever that meant. sheila gave him a curt nod, before gesturing towards me. 

“y/l/n. with mr. monohan. off you go.” 

panic flooded your body, but you composed yourself quick enough to give sheila a quick curtsey before scurrying after monahan, who was already halfway out the door. on the way out of the room, you caught tina’s eye. she quirked up her eyebrows as if to ask if you knew what was going on, and you merely shrugged before slipping into the hallway to catch up with pierce. 

he beckoned you into his office. the coolness of his metal desk chair against the heat radiating from your body was enough of a shock to the system to knock you back to reality. you were in pierce monahan’s office. only the most elite dancers have been invited into the office, the only other current dancer besides yourself having the pleasure of visiting this office being george, who had only been in here once to be offered a position dancing latin solo’s competitively. he was allowed to miss sunday rehearsals because of this commitment, and it was something everyone at the academy was rather jealous of. 

“mx. y/l/n. i’m sure you know why you’re here.” he didn’t give you an opportunity to respond before continuing. “just like your colleague mr. davidson, i’d like to offer you a position that allows you to compete in latin dance competitions. it would be as a dance couple. sheila has been noticing you’ve improved your latin drastically, and recommended you for the position.” 

you were left completely flabbergasted. you had been putting in the extra hours to improve your latin dances, but you had no idea it would lead to this. without thinking you responded, “yes, i’d love to compete.” trying to hold back on being overly enthusiastic. “how would that coincide with the current dances i’m doing?” 

“well, that is one of the downsides to this opportunity,” monahan explained, “you, unfortunately, would have to give up on being in the group dances you’ve been rehearsing to take this position. due to how quickly we would need to train you for the upcoming competitions, you would have to be in these latin rehearsals for the entirety of your required studio hours. it’s a lot of work, but we’re using this as a test trial to see if this is a position we want to permanently give you in the future...”

your brain short circuited. on one hand, this would be an amazing opportunity for your career, but to throw away all the hard work you had already put in to other numbers...

“it would be unwise turn this offer down y/n-” monahan using your first name drew you out of your trance immediately- “so choose wisely.” he said, in an almost threatening tone. 

“i accept.” you finalised. you knew you would regret turning this down, forever wondering what would have happened had you just given it a shot. 

pierce’s face morphed into a creepy looking smile “fabulous.” he exclaimed, standing from his desk and ushering you out of the room, you began to follow him down the halls to the private studio rooms. “you will train from two until nine on weekdays, eight until five on sundays, and saturdays will be the days of your competitions. but this saturday you will work until five-thirty, like the rest of the company. you will be competing as a couple, as i mentioned, and you will be dancing with-”

but pierce didn’t even have to open the door to studio d for you to know exactly who you would be spending the next five weeks of your life with. the mop of dark brown hair was just about visible through the thin window at the top of the door, and sure enough george davidson was standing on the other side of the door that monahan swung open. 

you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.