Elsa

From the moment I could move I knew I wanted to be a world class ballerina star.

Of course life doesn't make that or anything else competitive easy for me. I know that world, I know it well. I knew exactly what it took to pass through the strides of how ruthless it really is. I am still a pupil, 18-years-old, perfectly fresh in my element to live my dream. Hey, when you're young and spry you have to take advantage of it while you can.

The prerequisite to being a ballerina is simple. You don't have to develop an eating disorder but, and this is sad to admit even as a third party, it actually helps you move more freely around the room. I guess it partly explained why we maintain such a petite frame. We sort of have to. Too much muscle and your partner can lift you properly. More fat than muscle and you're just fucked. I might have participated a few times in the ritual in high school just to keep the weight down.

Ballerinas are essentially complex creatures. We're not particularly muscular, we do eat but it's mainly in small, bird-like quantities so we use that energy to expel onto the floor routines. I don't make protein shakes as much as I used to. My strict diet has remained the same since I was 13. Don't ask it's highly boring things. If I actually eat, I binge and then throw it up. I have to so I can maintain my weight. Being on a strict diet can drive you fucking crazy. It came with the territory I guess.

I am just so glad I made it. I fought for this long and hard. All I saw was this life and now I'm finally touching it like it's real.

NYC is going to be a trip for someone like me. I lived in the city briefly growing up on the West Coast so I naturally prepped myself for what's to come. There's a distinct New York smell one has to adapt to in order to make it here. I was beginning to see what they meant as I left the airport.

I made my way from the long plane ride to the airport to the train stop that will take me to the ABA, The American Ballet Academy, also known as the most prestigious school for people who want the same thing I want: to win and be the best. To kick metaphorically every girl down the totem pole of ballet. Why get in the game if you're not primed for the sport? Ballet to girls is just as intensive as say, professional football or soccer to guys. Same ball of wax, different gender.

I guess what separated me from most people in the sport is I feel every ounce of what I do, my passion is my drive. I try to keep my insecurities away where they belong. In this world, you have no room to feel sorry for yourself. You stumble, you get right back up. I could have studied medicine and still had these feelings about the ballet world.

The story of my life wasn't a cliché either. My family was far from perfect but we are respectful of one another more of less. It helps when you're an only child. My parents wanted me to study a real career and not focus on ballet. In the end I won out because the rule was as soon as I turned 18, it was my decision. My parents sufficed to say went along with my choice but they didn't have gargantuan smiles on their faces. It was more the worried, anguished expression that came with "well if you fail and come crawling back to us, don't say we didn't tell you so."

And that was never going to happen. My life has changed for the better now that I don't have the added pressure from my parents to become some kind of scholar. I'm starting to think parents just say they want you to succeed but only on their terms. I didn't worry about it too much. I was going to be living in NYC, the land of opportunity. Err, so they tell me. I don't know, ask the Statue of Liberty.

Here's the skinny on what I left back home besides personal, noxious excuses for supportive parents: I had a boyfriend.

Well, OK, had is the operative word here. He and I – the boyfriend – knew it was over when he realized it was just something we couldn't grow with. I told him I was 18 and I still have things I want to do. This is what sucks about relationships in high school: one person usually has to make the sacrifices for the other or it's going to fall apart. And…it fell apart. It wasn't as if I wanted it to. How could I choose between a boy (my personal definition for what my boyfriend really is, a boy I was infatuated over) and my dreams leading to happiness? I left him. I couldn't talk to him anymore because all he would do was stare at me as if I was the one who caused the break to happen. I reckon it was because we just weren't meant to be together forever. What's forever anyway? Relationships? I wouldn't go that far. I really didn't want to be tearful over it either like some little girl.

So I left him. Vanished. Like he and were never together. I know, sounds like I'm in the wrong for doing that and therefore I didn't feel anything from our times together. Truthfully, I didn't want to have a breakdown over it. I didn't want to go through all those days, weeks, months of allowing myself to be vulnerable because I chose to become a ballerina prodigy. Mind you, I did love my boyfriend. But it's in the past. He was what was, not what is. I made sure to delete every form of contact I had with him before leaving in case he would try to convince me to stay. His personality could have reached out to me many times. I'm glad I took precautions to make sure that didn't happen.

I didn't need any distractions to begin with. Boys, relationships, love would be detrimental to my path to success; even sex, well, it'd be hella hard to swear off sex. Imagine that? I mean, I think Pitch Perfect is just a movie, for fucks sake anyway. If you have casual sex with a guy it does not mean they steal your power. Sex is natural and having it shouldn't be taken off the table. I'll just leave that in the "maybe" pile. My boyfriend and I weren't always sexually active, I take some blame for that citing I was a little bit overworked when it came to my practices and concert recitals. I wanted to dance and breathe dance so bad, and I wanted to be the principal dancer in all of our center stage numbers. My life was achieving this one goal, plain and straight-forward. Maybe that's why the break up didn't have a big impact on me. That shit takes work anyway, more work I'm willing to give.

My cell phone buzzed loudly inside my jacket pocket. I cringed when I looked at it. My parents. Did I want to deal with this now? To my better judgments, I answered it anyway.

It was predictable as usual. My mom basically wanted to know if everything was OK with arriving here to which I replied it was. No need to fill you in on the boring conversation of the typical one-sided exchange of the worrying parent to child. Thank god she was called away. I would have faked some kind of static interference with a crumbled up piece of paper and switched off my phone then and there. One of the things I planned to do was change my number. Just to keep it on the safe side. They say if you're in a new place you should always have your parents on speed dial just in case. I call bull shit. That only counts if your parents aren't severely unhinged and live within driving distance of you. Mine just want to control me. I won't give them that luxury.

As took my things out of the trunk of the cab, I looked to the cabby and realized I didn't want to take my time. I heard taxi drivers leave if you're slow so I made sure I got all my stuff together before he could grow annoyed in his foreign accent.

I paid him and he sped off as soon as the next patron slid into the backseat. Welcome to New York. Oh how I can't wait to not sleep for the first weeks of being here.

If I could make it clear enough, I just wish to avoid guys for now. All guys. They do nothing but cause my brain to fucking swirl so hard I feel like someone took a puree mixer inside my skull. Nasty visual but I half don't care. It needed to be said, sorry about that.

I turned around with my luggage and crashed into something hard. Fuck, this is just my luck. On the first day I'm a spaz. I looked up and realized I shouldn't have. Probably the most beautiful face/person/entity I've ever seen offered his hand to help me stand and all I could do is look at it.

"Sorry, love, are you alright?" He asked, offering his hand to me.

I shook my head, clearing the fogginess as I took hold of his massive and soft hand as it wrapped over mine. He lifted me up with ease, like I was a feather or an empty suitcase to him. Holy shit. OK talk you doofus. Say something. Anything.

"I'm such an idiot. Sorry for knocking you over. Yeah..." Oh Lord love a duck, more spaziness from yours truly.

All I could do was stare and I didn't know a thing about him. He could be a murderer, a stalker or the worst person ever like the son of some trust fund. But all I could focus on was his perfect features.

"Right then…you dance?"

"What do I what?" I asked with wide eyes. Kill me now.

"Was just wondering if you dance? I saw your gym bag." He said, his eyes sparkling way too quickly for me to keep up with.

I stupidly looked down, blushing as I pushed my blonde hair in front of my cheeks so he wouldn't see it grow pinker by the second.

"Yeah, I do. It's my first day at the American Ballet Academy. I'm new here." Wow I managed to get all that out of my mouth without shaking.

He nodded smoothly as his face twisted into a brilliant smile that light up everything that was already beautiful about him. I dumbly stared on like a thirsty puppy.

"I see. Well, I'll see you around. I'm Ethan Cooper by the way. I dance too. Actually I teach part time over there at ABA." He said, and it was then I noticed he was British.

Good god, if I ever wanted to fuck somebody's accent before they should just lock me up for thinking all these nasty thoughts about it.

He stuck out his hand when he said his name. I realized he was still holding it out for me to shake. I took it, more blushing, yikes. Thanks hormones. Can I just for a moment try to be subtle?

"Elsa Granger. I'm uh, from the West Coast."

"I see then, whereabouts?"

"Oh, uh, San Francisco. The Bay Area." I smiled nervously. I really needed to calm myself.
He did that smooth nodding again and I almost gasped. How could someone make nodding sexy? Well it just happened.

"Pretty. I visited there with my family on Visa. Now I live here in New York."

Since he asked me I figured I'd ask him. "Where are you originally from?"

He grinned, every one of his straight, white teeth made an appearance. "I was born in London, Hackney actually. Couldn't wait to get out personally."

There was an awkward beat that followed. I have no idea what or where Hackney is but it sounds hella sexy. Oh my god I sound like a fan girl.

"Awesome." Way to kill the awkwardness.

"Did you need some help?"

"What?"

"I mean with your bags? I know where the building is. Did you want some help with your suitcase? I felt how heavy it was when we bumped into each other." Was he flirting? Yeah right, like someone that beautiful macking over me?

"Oh, umm, no not really. It isn't that heavy." I stopped myself before I could continue. No need to drag out my life story.

I attempted to lift it up with my purse and my gym bag in the other; I didn't mean to struggle with it all but I think he saw it.

"You sure? I insist. It's no matter for me."

I probably should have left by now but he was being so persistent, and nice to go along with his pristine everything.

I shifted my weight before wincing. I wanted to say no before I embarrassed myself even more but I didn't want him to leave.

"Thanks, Ethan is it?"

"Yeah, are you ready? Want to go?" He offered his hand again, this guy loves being formal.

I nodded as he took my luggage off my grasp and dragged it with me while we walked the rest of the way to the building. He knew the way pretty well. We cut through a small alley way to get to the building much faster. The elevator ride was so quiet. I tried not to make my quick breathing obvious but it wasn't going to take. It was a small challenge. I felt extremely offended by how he is and at the same time was entranced by it. As the elevator dinged to my floor I finally breathed out normally.

After telling him where my dorm room was I pulled out the key and opened the door, seeing a virtually empty room. Thank god my roommate wasn't here yet, I would have to deal with that one later.

"Well, Elsa, this is where I leave you." Ethan said smooth as swimmer, Christ this guy was microwaving my ovaries too fast for me to handle.

I smiled, as we brought my stuff inside and I turned to him. "Thank you."

"No problem love. The Resident Adviser is near the administration desk if you need anything." Ethan added.

I totally forgot he worked here. OK, stop drooling, no wide eyes. Control the urge to jump his bones. This must be illegal. But he was just offering to help, it can't be that bad, can it?

I blushed while nodding as he waved off turning on his heel and giving me a lingering look before leaving the hallway. I watched him get further away from me and sighed deeply.

Oh boy, I'm in fucking trouble. Must cease and desist, unfortunately it's too late. My eyes were following the obvious. It hurts, it physically hurts me. Nice ass blondie.

I walked inside my room and closed the door slowly. I saw the first empty bed and collapsed on it with the biggest smile on my face. The first smile I had since I was invited to attend ABA.

Notes

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