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[Laur <3s Lollipops]

All of those damn prissy ballerinas with their damn prissy buns. The damn way they all giggled as they passed him, as if he couldn’t notice. But he was just the damn lowly help, so why would he complain? He wouldn’t dare, of course! Who would do such a blasphemous thing to these princesses? Certainly Michael wouldn’t. Besides, he was too busy sweeping and taking out trash and cleaning to even give them a second glance. It’s not like most of them were hot anyway, their starving bodies squished into even smaller leotards. Some of the leotards didn’t even touch their stomachs, it just went from hip to hip. Of course not all of them were like this, but it seemed that all too many were.

Though Michael would never admit it, the eighteen year old found the dancing rather entrancing. Especially the faster ballets, they were simply amazing. Often he found himself watching them in the ceiling to floor studio mirrors, rather than cleaning like he should have been. His family wasn’t in the best situation, and he did any little thing to get a bit of extra money. This place just seemed to be the best pay, and he could understand why after seeing some of the pricing. Classes were ridiculously expensive, and it seemed to him that none of these people were on scholarship. And ignorant Michael could never decide if people just took classes here, or if it was a school.

Having not been raised in the best family, Michael didn’t really have the ... social graces usually acquainted with a place like this. He was rude, stared, cursed, and often wore jeans so baggy this boxers were showing, often with tears, to match his warn out band t-shirts. Converse and Vans were the only shoes the boy would wear. Tights were completely out of the question and he was reminded of this every time he saw one of the much fewer guys milling about. By now he had concluded that the only good thing about dancing was being so close to girls. Michael was a bit of a ladies’ man.

He could get away with this nonchalant attitude, at least at his highschool. It wasn’t that he was extremely hot or anything, but he had more of the ‘skater rocker hard core’ guy thing going on. The jeans, t-shirts, and shoes helped, along with his slightly shaggy and messy nearly black hair, and the fact that he was never really clean-shaven. It seemed that no matter what, Mike always had stubble or a bit of fur on his face. But it suited him, and went nicely with his defined features. Though his nose was a bit large, the grey eyed teen was still considered good looking.

Once day he finished early, and was sitting around in the beautiful front lobby, waiting for his friend to pick him up. Mike shared a car with one of his friends, considering his mom could barely support herself and his little brother, much less buy a car. But this guy, Ty, was practically Mike’s brother, considering they had gone to school together their whole lives and lived next to each other. Being tired, Mike couldn’t help but slouch his six foot figure down into the chair, getting him even worse looks from the perfectly poised ballerinas. He rolled his eyes and wondered how long it would take their hairlines to recede, with how tightly those buns were pulled back. Every few seconds he would look at the clock; Mike wasn’t very patient.

ooc;; Sorry, it's not the best.

[the nikki]

“Alright Ladies.. Hurry up now. Take up your spots. Music please Ashley…. First position, and Demi Plie. Releve, count two three four. Grand Plie. Releve, count two three four.”

Repetition. The life of a Ballet dancer is all about repetition. Grace took lessons five times a week and each lesson started and ended with Barre exercises. That wasn’t why Grace enjoyed dancing. In fact, if she didn’t know how important it was to her strength and technique, she’d probably want to give it away completely. The times at the barre we just a means to an end. She took no delight in them and often found her body moving of it’s own accord while her brain pondered more important things. To Grace, dancing wasn’t about the barre. It was about getting lost in the music. Feeling the emotion in the routine. Letting yourself be free to fly.

“Carly, watch your feet. Annabelle what are your arms doing? Not flopping at your sides like dead fish I hope. Oh girls now really, Grand Plie, not Demi. Further! Bend your knees further. My beginner’s under fives can do better then this!”

Ah. It must be Thursday. Her ‘Pointe’ teacher’s technic was to berate until perfect. Something that some students couldn’t handle particularly well. However Grace had learnt to block it out. Of course, you take on the criticism and correct yourself but you just couldn’t afford to let the insults get to you, or by the end of the three hour class not only would your toes be bloody and painful but you’d be an emotional wreck. Ballet Dancer’s needed to develop a thick skin. There was always someone with something negative to say. Teacher’s, other students… The world of Ballet looked pretty and Graceful but behind the scenes it was cattiness and back-stabbing.

“Well if none of you can be bothered doing a Grand Plie correct, you all may as well go into fifth for a Battement Tendu.”

The youth changed her feet robotically. Her mind already on having a warm shower and what she’d eat for dinner. That’s something that set Grace apart from most of the girls in the room. She didn’t have an eating disorder. While she wasn’t, by normal standards, over-weight however she was always being told by teachers she would do well to loose a few pounds. If it meant giving up her chocolate and take-out she wasn’t interested. Though she did make an effort to run each morning and do sessions at the gym on days she didn’t have lessons. I mean, she had to do something to stay in shape didn’t she?

“Alright girls. I cannot stand anymore of your incompetence today. I expect to see better next week. I expect you to prove that you deserve the title of advanced class. Dismissed.”

There was a muffled sound of soft voices and foot-steps as the girls moved towards their belongings and ready themselves to go home. Grace sat herself down on the wood floor and started to un-pin her bun. Letting the brown locks fall from the tight coil. She plucked an elastic off her wrist and pulled her hair into a high-pony tail. Not at all bothering to check for neatness. Her next task was to remove her pointe shoes. She did this gingerly, not wanting to aggravate her already sore feet. Dark eyes scanned her toes. Only minimal bleeding. That either meant she prepared her shoes properly for once or didn’t work as hard as she should have. Either way, it was a plus. She put on her street shoes and stood up. After pulling on some blue sweat-pants and a white singlet, the seventeen-year-old hoisted her bag into her shoulder and exited the studio. Her eyes scanned the lobby as she paused, to drink from her water bottle. They stopped on the cleaning boy. She had seen him before. Of course she had. Something about him though, held her interest.

[Laur <3s Lollipops]

"What are you looking at?" he asked in a gruff tone, though it was a bit softer than usual. His chin was flicked up for a moment to point at her, the masculine nod of recognition. Mike was honestly just a tiny bit flustered. She was one of those special girls, the ones that he'd dropped brooms over while he stopped and stared, got told he wasn't being paid to be an audience. See, this is one of the ones who didn't have an eating disorder. Because honestly, who likes a girl who look like she's about to snap in half if you hug her too tight.

"If you wanna say something, come over here," Mike added on, almost as a dare, a challenge. Figuring she wouldn't actually, and she'd just go giggle to her friends, he let his eyes linger on her for a few more seconds, then drift around to all of the other girls. Looking up at the clock, he groaned at how late his friend was. He had remembered, right?

[the nikki]

Actually, no she did /not/ want to say something. Grace raised an eyebrow at the boy. Why did they always have to catch her when all she wanted to do was have a good look? She didn't want to flirt or start a conversation. She merely wanted to get a good perv of the help before she went home. And why not? She had seen him before, watching her dance. In fact, watching her in general. Wasn't it fair then that she got to watch him? Obviously not. Girls never got away with ogling men.

The young woman lets out a small sigh. If she smiled and just walked the other way it would be all over. However that would make seem like a snob. Well, maybe she was a snob and didn't care what the boy thought? She cocked her head to the side, analysing his appearance. He certainly wasn't someone her parents would like. That in itself was almost a good reason to talk to him. Well, in her mind anyway. It was enjoyable to think about all the things she could do to annoy her father but in the end she'd never do them.

"I was just... Looking." She offered up a coy shrug. For want of a better choice, Grace took a few steps towards him. "I've seen you looking before so I just thought..." A smirk toyed with her lips as she pauses, "that I’d return the favour." Well. There. At least she was being honest. She closed the rest of the space between them in a few more steps. She stood in front of him, eyebrows raised. Full of cocky bravado. “So would you like to tell me why you like to look at me?”