Bad For You

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"Ladies and gentleman. As you all know, the winter ballet is fast approaching."

Francis circles the room as he talks, and we all listen with rapt attention and bated breath, our eyes glued to his every movement. We've just finished barre work and I was prepared to move onto center like usual.

Instead Francis drops this bomb on us.

It's not as if I didn't know about the winter ballet per say. It's more like I tried to ignore it and pretend like it didn't exist and wasn't happening. The winter ballet was one of our biggest performances of the year. It would be a full-length narrative ballet with live accompaniment by the orchestra and music department, guest artists—both dancers and musicians—original choreography, professional costuming and production design.

Basically it was a huge deal.

My mother had been dropping causal hints about it but I refused to engage. Now with this official announcement began the start of a very stressful few weeks ahead.

"Do you who will be coming this year?" Svetlana asks excitedly.

Francis smiles. "I do. That however, is on a need to know basis. For now. All you need to know is that auditions will be coming up soon, and that you will need to work twice as hard if you want it to be a success."

There's a mixture of excited chatter and dread. I'm on the latter side. My stomach churns and I press my hand against it, breathing deeply. It helps a little, but my anxiety still racks up.

"You okay?" Priyanka asks next to me. We were slowly starting to become friends. Lucy and Noelle had become even tighter since her injury, leaving Priyanka out in the cold. I thought it was messed up how Noelle just tossed Priyanka to the side like she was nothing after years of friendship.

I force a smile. "Would you believe me if I said I was?"

Priyanka shakes her head. "No, probably not. I get it though. It's a lot of pressure. And you usually always get one of the lead roles."

"Maybe it will be different this year," I say, not sure who I'm trying to convince. I wouldn't mind being a background dancer.

However my mother would sooner die than allow that to happen.

Practice continues on like usual and when it's over I don't even bother changing. I just toss on my wrap and coat before hurrying out to meet Hannah at the front of the school. We were going to the antique shop.

"They want me to perform a solo," Hannah grips the steering wheel tightly. "Me! I mean I've done hundreds of solos before, but this is different. They want me to perform an original. At the ballet. Oh God, what if I fuck up?"

Looks like I'm not the only one under pressure here.

"You won't," I say assuredly. It's easier to make someone else feel better about their problems than my own.

"But how do you know that?" Hannah presses. "Huh? How do you know?"

I don't actually. We may very well all fuck up. That thought doesn't help much though, so I forcefully push it away.

"Because you're extremely amazing at what you do and you've worked so hard. So there's no way you could mess up."

Hannah exhales. "I just need to play my baby. Then I'll feel better."

We arrive at the antique afore and she parks the car. The bell chimes overheard as we enter. Immediately something feels off. It's like there's a huge gaping space in the shop. And that's when I realize.

Hannah's Steinway is gone.

Hannah stares at the space it once stood in disbelief. "No," she whispers. "No. No no no no no. This cannot be happening. Maybe it just needed a tune up or something."

Mr. Oakley, the owner, emerges from the back. When he sees us his face falls.

"Where's my piano?" Hannah demands.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice remorseful. "Someone bought it a few days ago."

"Bought it?" She echoes. "Who? Who bought it?"

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to divulge that information. I'm sorry," Mr. Oakley truly does look like he feels bad. He knew how much that piano meant to Hannah.

Hannah's lip quivers and her eyes fill with tears. "She's gone," her voice cracks as she turns to me. "My baby is gone."

"Oh Hannah..." I pull her into a hug as she shudders with sobs. "I'm so sorry. It's okay. Just let it out."

Mr. Oakley shifts uncomfortably. "I truly am sorry. I'm sure one day you'll own a piano just as beautiful."

Hannah pulls back and whirls on him. "How could you?" She asks, her voice betrayed. "How could you sell her like that? I would've come up with the money somehow...I just needed more time."

"He was just doing his job," I try to say. "Come on, let's go."

I start to pull her out of the store, flashing Mr. Oakley an apologetic smile. "This is the worst day ever," Hannah sniffles. "It must be a sign. My performance is doomed."

"Your performance is not doomed," I reply. "I know it sucks now, but you'll be okay."

"It feels like I just lost my child," Hannah says sadly. She wipes her eyes. "I'm being so stupid right? It was just a piano. And it wasn't even mine. Not really."

"You're not being stupid. When something important is taken away from you, that hurts. Even if it wasn't yours."

Hannah's voice is glum. "Yeah, I guess. I just want to go home and drown my sorrows in chocolate."

The car ride home is silent. No matter what I say or do, Hannah won't be cheered up. And maybe that's okay. Sometimes you just need to wallow in your own sadness before you feel better. I just hate seeing her so upset. She's usually so upbeat, happy, and cheerful. It makes me feel sad.

When I walk through the door my mother greets me. "Hey honey. How was school?"

"Fine," I reply, slipping off my shoes.

"I heard they officially announced the winter ballet."

Ugh. Of course that would be the first thing she wants to talk about. Can't I have at least twenty-four hours to process it?

"Do you know what ballet it is yet?" My mother asks expectantly.

I close my eyes, summoning all the patience I have, before re-opening them. "No. Not yet. I'm sure I will soon though."

My mother stands from the couch. "Well make sure to keep me updated."

I refrain from rolling my eyes. As if she didn't keep herself updated.

"Dinner is on the table. I picked up a shift at the bar tonight so I'll be home late."

My ears perk up. "Okay," I reply as casually as possible. I eat my dinner as she gets ready for work, and as soon as she's gone I whip out my phone.

Me: can you come over? my mom is working late so she won't be home

Theo: be there in thirty ;)


"I think the fact that we're not supposed to be doing this makes it that much hotter."

"Yeah?" I breathe as I grasp Theo's shoulders, sinking down on him.

"Definitely," his hands thread through my hair and tugs, exposing my neck. He sucks the skin above my collarbone and I moan as I rock above him, lifting my hips then lowering myself back down until I gain a steady tempo. This is a powerful position. It makes me feel bold. Sexy. In control. Our breaths because shallow as we move faster, kissing, touching, fucking.

I run my hands through Theo's hair and pull his head back so we're staring into each others eyes. There's something so raw about looking into your partners eyes while having sex. It's another level of intimacy, like they can see right through you down to your very soul. You're exposed and vulnerable, giving pieces of yourself to them. Our mouths touch and our gazes lock but we don't kiss, instead taking each other in. The only sounds in the room is our heavy breathing and the sound of our bodies coming together.

Theo reaches down between us to rub my clit and I climax hard, moans and sighs of pleasure falling from my lips. Somehow my body keeps going until Theo comes, and then we collapse back on the bed together. Our bodies are covered in a light sheen of perspiration and I feel warm and giddy inside.

"I love having sex with you," I admit breathlessly. Theo chuckles.

"And I love having sex with you."

I smile happily and relax against his chest. We both lay there quietly. Sometimes it's nice to just silently enjoy someone's company. I trace circles on his upper arm while closely examining the tattoo there. Three birds are flying together in a bright blue sky. It's really pretty and detailed, from the soft wings of the birds to the clouds in the sky.

I love you.

The words are on the tip of my tongue but I told them back. Not yet.

"I think I want to get a tattoo," I say absentmindedly after awhile.

Theo shifts beneath me, adjusting us in a new, comfortable position. "Really? I thought dancers weren't allowed to have tattoos."

"Ballet companies are becoming more accepting of it now," I reply. "As long as it's small and somewhere not easily visible."

"What would you get then? Hypothetically speaking."

I sigh. "I don't know. Maybe pointe shoes or something."

Theo's chest vibrates with laughter. "That is...very cliche."

"Shut up," I lightly smack him with a grin. "It has to be something meaningful to me. Pointe shoes are basically the symbol of ballet."

"Where would you get it?" He asks.

"My lower hip. Or maybe the inside of my wrist. Or my ankle."

"All very painful places."

"It would be worth it in the end. What about you, do you regret getting your sleeves done? You might lose out on job opportunities."

"No," Theo shakes his head. "I think of it like this. My body is just another canvas for me to express myself. I'll probably get more when I'm older. And if any job doesn't want to hire me because of my tattoos, I wouldn't want to work there anyway."

"What would be your dream job then?"

" by the beach painting leisurely with no worries and somehow making enough to live comfortably," Theo grins. "But that's not realistic. So I guess maybe I'd want to open my own art studio some day. Help other kids who want to become artists or even just want to get better at it."

I smile. "That's so sweet. I think you'd made a great teacher."

"Debatable. But I'd like to think maybe would day I would."

"You always underestimate yourself," I press a kiss to his chest. "But you're amazing Theo, even if you don't see it."

"So are you," he brushes my hair back and kisses me softly. The kiss turns more passionate and soon he's rolled on top of me, my body on fire again. I spread my legs as Theo reaches for another condom, my heart beating in anticipation.

I swear, I will never get enough of this boy.


Hannah slumps farther in her seat and I cross my arms. There's a low murmur of chatter and the fluorescent lights feel too bright as we sit in the waiting room of the clinic. We didn't have appointments and so far we'd been waiting for a little over an hour. After the first thirty minutes I started becoming annoyed. All I wanted was birth control, not an examination.

"Aurora Montogomery?" A doctor calls. Finally. I stand and Hannah shoots me a thumbs up.

"Good luck," she says encouragingly. I follow the nurse to the examination room. Since I'm not sure what to expect, I become antsy. The nurse smiles kindly at me.

"First exam?" She asks sympathetically.

"Yeah," I blow out a puff of air. "It won't hurt right?"

"Don't worry, it will be completely painless. Maybe a little uncomfortable but that's it," she snaps on a pair of gloves. "Let's check your height and weight first."

I stand on the scale and stare at the numbers as they flicker back and forth. One-fifteen. Afterwards the doctor pats the examination table. "Hop on up."

I gingerly get on the table and swing my legs nervously. The nurse takes my temperature, checks my heartbeat, ears, mouth, and blood pressure. Then she does the knee jerk test and has me lie back, checking my muscles.

"You seem perfectly healthy," the doctor discards her gloves and picks up a clipboard and pen, marking things down. "I'm just going to ask you a few questions now."

I nod. "Okay."

"Are you sexually active?"

"Yes," I clear my throat.

"When was the last time you had sex?"

"Um, like three days ago."

"Are you using some form of contraceptive when having sex?"

"Yes uh, we use condoms."

"Anything else?"


I'm not sure how many questions I was expecting her to ask, but it's a lot. She asks about my family medical history, my period, and what sexual activities I'm engaging in like oral or anal. Then she has me pee in a cup and leaves me waiting in the room while she gets it tested. As I wait anxiously for her to return my mind conjures up every negative scenario in the book. By the time the doctor returns I’ve nearly induced a self made panic attack.

"Good news," she smiles. "All your tests came back negative."

I let out a relieved breath, my body deflating like a balloon. The doctor laughs.

"Yeah, I know that feeling. Are you interested in getting on birth control?"

I nod eagerly. "Yes please."

"Alright, let's review your options."

We go over all the forms of birth control available and I come to the conclusion there's no way I'll remember to take a pill every day at the same time, especially with my dance schedule. It's just too risky. I decide to get the implant and we schedule an appointment for me to come back. When I finally emerge from her office Hannah jumps up.

"Finally! I was starting to worry something was wrong. So how was it?"

"Nerve wracking," I admit. "But everything is fine. No pregnancies or infections."

Hannah pretends to wipe sweat from her forehead. "Whew. The anticipation was killing me. So what about birth control? Are you getting on the pill?"

"No. I won't be able to remember to take it on time so I'm getting the implant instead."

"Damn. Look at you making big girl decisions. I'm proud of you for being responsible."

I smile. "Thanks."

"This calls for celebration. Frozen yogurt on me."


don't be silly 🤪 wrap your willy🍆

xoxo, g💓
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