His Precious Flower

Chapter 6

"The very graceful ballerina.

Exquisite legs move along the arena and stands the weight on her toes, how much work, how

much effort goes in, nobody really knows.

To be calm, to construct, there's no number, there's no luck,

The toes will bleed,

The tears will shed,

To achieve the pointed perfection of the ballerina's legs."

I sing the familiar tune I made up when I was nine for the millionth time, something I only do

when I'm practicing alone.

My leaps come to a stop when I'm tired of repeating the song and I walk around the empty room

of the gym to cool off my legs.

The past two days have been a constant practice for me. With nothing else to do, I've come to the

gym and practiced in an unoccupied room from 5-5 each day. Twelve hours of constant practice

takes me back to my younger years when ballet was all I had to live for. It was the only thing I

had going for me.

I love the sport more than my own family, but perhaps that because they're bad people.

I shake my head to clear the negative thoughts before untying my pointe shoes and putting on my

raggedy old tennis shoes.

I only make fourty thousand a year, but I can't complain because that's alot for someone who just

got the job.

Though I've been practicing since I was two, I wasn't in a position to get a job until I was out of

my families grasp.

At least my long practices have done me well and helped me land this job easily.

Hopefully one day I'll be making twice as much money for something I love.

The only thing I dislike are many of the other dancers.

They're stuck up. They get mad at me for getting along with Jac so we'll, but what I can I do?

He's a good instructor and I'll treat him as such.

Nobody would come see a lone ballerina though, so I'll have to settle for being part of a team.

Life story aside, I look at the clock to see I went twenty minutes over.

I don't want to hurt my muscles, so pack my bag and decide to head home and rest.

Leaving the room, I walk past the locker rooms and down the stairs.

At the bottom is all the weight training and cardio machines, so I walk through the line of

equipment with a straight gaze so as not to become tempted to continue working out.

Need. rest.

I almost make it out before the strangest thing happens.

"Flavia!"

The Russian accent seems more breathy than usual, and I turn around to see an exhausted

looking Dimitri.

He wears black track pants with no shirt, but the heavy glaze of sweat may as well count as a

coverup.

He seems to have worked out so profusely that beads of liquid stream down his face.

It's not a bad sight, but I can only imagine how slippery his skin is.

"Dimitri," I greet unable to remember his last name.

He stacks the last plate from a bench pressing bar back onto the rack before walking my way.

As he comes closer, he wipes his chest and face with the towel in an attempt to dry off.

It doesn't help, but his muscles ripple finely and I don't mind the view.

"What are you doing here, flower?"

The nickname seems random to me, but feel that it would be rude to question him.

"Staying shape. I see you are too."

Though clearly in different ways, we both seem to want to perform well.

He nods and digs his phone out of his pocket, probably checking the time.

"Are you heading out?"

I nod and Dimitri throws his towel in a nearby laundry bin.

"Wonderful. I'll escort you."

The walk outside is a bit awkward and I feel strange being near someone other than my two

friends.

In fact, conversation doesn't even spark until we're outdoors.

"Your car?"

His question leads to an awkward answer and I shift uncomfortably while slowly walking away.

"I only live five blocks away so I don't need to have a car," I try to explain without making it

sound like I'm poor.

Dimitri raises his eyebrow and stares behind me.

"You live in that direction?"

His voice is darker now and I decide to wiggle out of this situation quickly.

"Yep. It is and I have to get going. Thanks for the escort!"

With that, I turn quickly and speedwalk down the way, only to hear heavy footfalls behind me.

"I'll accompany you," Dimitri states.

I don't want to argue with the man that could fire me, so I allow it

In seven short minutes, we arrive at my building, which from the outside isn't so bad if you don't

notice the bullet holes in the brick.

"This is it. Thanks again."

"I don't want you staying here," he says coldly before I can even get through the door.

I shrug.

"It's what I can afford. It's fine."

Unfortunately, Dimitri follows me through the hall and to the door of my apartment.

"This is hardly suitable," he grinds out with frustration.

"Luckily you don't have to live here," I retort unlocking the door.

"At least give me your number so I can check on you."

I sigh heavily and drop my bag on the other side of the door before turning to a cross armed

Dimitri.

"I don't have a phone. I don't NEED a phone. I don't need you to check up on me okay? I'm fine."

With frustration, I close the door harshly in my boss's face.

Despite his knocking, I lay down in the bed and close my eyes. 12 days before I can go back to

work.

Hopefully, I won't run into Dimitri until then.