Free Kat: Breaking Pointe by Sebastian Scott Page B

his thumbs pressing my shoulder blades. ‘Really separate them out.’ I try to keep dancing but I can’t ignore the buzzing in my head. I’m sure he’s aware of it, too, this electricity passing between us.
    I stop.
    â€˜Kat,’ he says, his voice charged with feeling.
    I hesitate and I know I have to vacate this moment. ‘I have to …’ I pull myself away, ready to flee.
    â€˜We said it doesn’t have to get weird between us. It was just one moment.’
    â€˜Yeah,’ I say, and laugh. ‘Except it’s like a hundred different moments. Do you remember this?’ I step into his space and put my hand on his cheek.
    â€˜People phobic,’ he says.
    I smile, despite everything, I’m glad he remembers that day last year, when he’d just started at the Academy and hated everyone and everything, reacting badly to being touched in class when his technique was corrected. I staged my own intervention, touch therapy I’d called it. And look how far he’d come over the last year. It was my turn to grow now. And touch therapy was the last thing I needed.
    I take a deep breath and – helter-skelter – decide to come clean. ‘So, in a disastrous manoeuvre I’ve kind of had feelings for you since the start of last year.’
    Christian is stunned by my admission.
    â€˜And you’re pretending not to be but you’re in love with my best friend.’
    â€˜So everyone keeps telling me.’
    â€˜Which I absolutely support. It’s just tough for me sometimes and you’re making it worse.’
    â€˜What should I be doing?’
    â€˜I don’t know, staying away?’ I meet his eyes. ‘If I’m coming back to the Academy then there needsto be a buffer. I can’t train with you. I can’t even be friends with you.’
    Christian shakes his head. ‘That’s crap. We’ve always been friends.’
    â€˜You have. I’ve sort of been pretending.’
    And I get out of there, fast, before the hurt in his eyes can undo me.
    Â 
    I beg Ethan to help me train but he refuses.
    â€˜This is your dream scenario,’ I insist. ‘You live to tell me what to do.’
    â€˜And you never listen. Which is why you obviously need a trainer who’s going to inspire discipline.’ At that moment, Abigail enters the studio. ‘Perfect timing.’
    â€˜For what?’ Abigail asks, suspiciously.
    â€˜My sister needs someone who’ll push her to breaking point.’
    â€˜I’d prefer to take my chances,’ I say, as Abigail protests.
    â€˜It’ll be mutually beneficial. You need to stop obsessing,’ he says to Abigail. To me: ‘And you need to obsess more. I expect nothing less than magic.’
    He glides off, leaving Abigail and me glaring at each other.
    Â 
    Abigail walks slowly around me as I stare in the mirror. Finally she stops and smiles. ‘It’s gratifying how for years you’ve made fun of my choices, my dedication, and now you want my guidance.’
    I grit my teeth. My brother might be cruel and unusual, but he’s right, if anyone can get me up to scratch, it’s Abigail.
    â€˜You’ll do what I say, when I say?’ she demands.
    â€˜You say jump, I say where’s the nearest cliff.’
    She hands me a skipping rope. ‘Give me a hundred.’
    â€˜I was speaking metaphorically. I have six days to get ballet friendly. Can’t you give me a class?’
    â€˜Cardio first. Class comes later.’
    If my life were a movie, this is where the montage would kick in, to a pumping soundtrack. Skipping, sit-ups, running up flights of steps. Abigail confiscating my burger and donut and replacing it with a piled up plate of salad. Unfortunately montages don’t happen in real life. In real life it’sjust gruelling hour after hour of cardio and strength training. I stick to her diet and follow her insane schedule. I