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IRL
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↳ ❞THANK YOU FOR
BEING HERE WITH ME.❞

In the world of pirouettes and pliés, Lovette was a maestro, a ballet extraordinaire since childhood. If grace were a currency, she'd be the queen of an elegant empire, twirling her way through tutu-clad conquests. But dissatisfaction lurked beneath the perfect développé and poised demeanour. She traded the rink for the dance floor, finding solace in ballet's disciplined embrace, even if it couldn't replace the magic of figure skating.

The dance studio was shrouded in an intense atmosphere. Lovette, clad in her ballet attire, stood at the barre under the watchful eye of the formidable dance instructor. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead illuminated the room, casting a stark contrast against the shadows that danced with each movement.

"Higher, Lovette! Extend those lines," the instructor's voice cut through the silence, demanding perfection. Lovette, accustomed to the precision of figure skating, took a deep breath and elevated her leg, the stretch reaching for perfection.

Yet, with each grand jeté and fouetté, there was a silent rebellion within Lovette's soul. The dance studio, for all its disciplined beauty, could not capture the spirit she once embraced on the ice. The instructor's sharp critiques were a reminder of a world that measured grace in rigid lines, while Lovette yearned for the fluidity of a frozen stage where she could dance freely.

Her pointe shoes whispered against the floor, but Lovette's mind echoed with the crisp sound of blades carving through the ice—a symphony she had traded for the muted tones of the dance studio. The instructor's gaze remained fixed, an unyielding force driving Lovette to push beyond her limits.

As the routine reached its climax, Lovette executed a final, elegant arabesque. Her breath caught in her throat, not from exhaustion but from an unsatisfied longing. The applause that followed was a formality, an acknowledgment that she had met the instructor's impossibly high standards. Yet, as the echoes of clapping faded, Lovette couldn't shake the feeling that she was dancing in the shadows of her former self.

The ballet class had finally reached its end, and as she finished pulling on her sweatpants, Lovette reached for her phone in the duffle bag. Biting her lip, she powered it on, her anticipation hanging in the air. Disappointment flooded her body when she found no messages from Chris, but frustration flared up as she noticed his recent posts on Instagram. She held in a scoff, shoving her phone into her bag before heading home. The drive home felt agonizingly slow, filled mostly with annoyance at Chris's radio silence.

He's posting on Instagram, but he can't respond to a text message. Or even call me?

The words lingered in her mind like an unspoken accusation, fueling the fire of her frustration. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as she navigated the streets, the rhythmic hum of the engine a backdrop to her simmering discontent.

The question, heavy with disappointment and irritation, surged forth as she pulled up to her house, noting Mateo's car out front. His recent transfer from Yale to Harvard had become official, and having a familiar face from back home was a comfort. Lovette sighed, opened the front door, and kicked off her shoes. The soft padding of her feet echoed in the corridor as she made her way to the kitchen, in search of something to drink. Turning a corner, she nearly collided with Mateo, who was just stepping out of the bathroom.

"Whoa, watch it there," Mateo teased, a playful grin on his face as he sidestepped her.

"Sorry," Lovette mumbled, her apology carrying the weight of her preoccupied mind.

Mateo tilted his head, concern furrowing his brows. "Everything alright?"

Lovette sighed, the tension in her shoulders relaxing a fraction as she shared a glance with Mateo. "Just frustrated. Chris is being... Chris."

Mateo's expression shifted from playful to understanding, his feelings for Lovette lingering beneath the surface. "You wanna talk about it?"

A bitter chuckle escaped Lovette. "Tried that, but he's too busy posting on Instagram to respond to my texts."

Mateo raised an eyebrow, secretly wishing she would realize there might be someone right in front of her who cares. "Ouch. Sounds like someone needs a reality check."

"Yeah, well, I might just give it to him," Lovette said, her frustration finding a momentary outlet in her words.

A brief silence hung in the air before Mateo's curiosity got the best of him. "Just got back from the rink?" He nodded toward the duffle bag she clutched in her hand, a familiar companion of her skating excursions.

Lovette stood there, facing Mateo's questioning gaze.

"I haven't been to the rink in a while. I came back from ballet," she admitted, her voice carrying a tinge of nostalgia.

"I thought you'd never stay away," Mateo responded, a genuine note of surprise in his voice. "I mean, you were practically made to be on the ice."

Lovette managed a small smile at the compliment, appreciating the sincerity in his words. "Thanks, Mateo. It's just... things changed after my parents..."

She trailed off, the unspoken pain lingering in the air. Mateo, understanding the depth of her loss, offered a sympathetic nod. "I get it. But you're too good to let that talent go to waste. Ballet is great, but it's not the same, is it?"

His words resonated with an undeniable truth. Lovette's love for figure skating ran deep, and she could feel the void left by its absence. The crispness of the ice, the glide of the blades, and the freedom of movement – ballet, for all its grace, couldn't replicate those sensations.

"Yeah," she admitted, her gaze drifting towards her duffle bag, a silent acknowledgment of the skates it once held. "It's just not the same."

The conversation dwindled there, and they parted with a brief smile, Lovette's thoughts lingering on Mateo's genuine concern. As she made her way to the kitchen, the evening breeze carried a sense of unease. Chris's continued silence gnawed at her, and the need to understand battled with the fear of what his response might be.

The next day arrived, and with each passing hour of unanswered messages, Lovette's frustration grew. In an attempt to distract herself, she scrolled through Chris's Instagram and watched his latest YouTube video. The curated snippets of his life in California, now seemingly worlds apart from hers, only intensified the void she felt.

Just as the disappointment threatened to consume her, there was a knock on her bedroom door. Mateo stood there, a hopeful expression on his face.

"Hey, Lovette. I was thinking, how about we hit the rink? Maybe it'll help clear your mind," Mateo suggested, the sincerity in his eyes evident.

Lovette hesitated for a moment, caught between the allure of the ice and the potential of Chris messaging her. Eventually, she nodded, appreciating Mateo's attempt to reconnect her with something she had once cherished so deeply. "Sure, let's go."

With newfound resolve, Lovette stepped out of her room, trying to leave behind the anticipation of Chris's message. The driveway greeted her, a space where reality awaited, and Mateo stood by the car, holding the door open for her.

As she approached, he repeated the question that had stirred memories and emotions within her. "When's the last time you skated?"

Lovette replied, "Uh, last year with Chris. He taught me how to play hockey."

Mateo nodded, the familiar crunch of gravel under the car's tires marking their departure. The drive to the rink was filled with comfortable silence, a camaraderie that didn't require constant conversation. The memory of the last time she skated with Mateo, the emotional routine they performed together in their senior year, loomed in her mind.

The parking lot, once bustling with eager skaters, now lay quiet. As she stepped onto the pavement, the cool breeze carried the scent of the familiar ice, awakening a sense of nostalgia. Mateo followed her lead, taking on the role of a silent companion. The rink's entrance loomed ahead and Lovette hesitated, her fingers grazing the handle of the door, memories of past routines flooding her mind.

"Ready?" Mateo's voice broke through her reverie, and she nodded, determination lighting her eyes.

Instead of answering, she swung the door open, and a rush of chilled air embraced them. The rink, an expanse of glistening ice, beckoned like an old friend welcoming them home. Mateo laced up his skates with practiced ease, his movements a dance in themselves. Lovette followed suit, the familiar ritual grounding her in a sense of nostalgia.

"What's your favourite part about figure skating?"

Lovette paused, a thoughtful expression on her face. She delicately tightened the laces, her mind drifting to the essence of the sport she held dear. "I think the fluidity of it all. I'm so organized, so strict with schedules and plans." She looked up, meeting Mateo's gaze. "But here, on the ice, I can let go. It's like the one place where I can be fluid."

Mateo nodded, absorbing her words. He understood the contrast, the dichotomy of Lovette's life. The ice, for her, wasn't just a surface to skate upon. The rink became a sanctuary where the structured, intellectual Lovette could momentarily shed her constraints and dance with the wind.

The rink was practically empty, the few skaters present creating a distant hum of activity.

"Remember our last routine?" Mateo asked, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

Lovette nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. The routine had been their last performance together before parting ways for college. "Of course I do."

"Good, cause I have a surprise."

Suddenly the familiar music began to play, the one they had danced to at their final competition a year ago, Mateo extended his hand—a silent offer to join him, one which she hesitantly took. Lovette and Mateo moved in synchrony, their bodies communicating in a language only they understood. Each glide, each twirl, was a testament to the years they spent as figure skating partners. The routine was emotional, a narrative woven through intricate movements, capturing the essence of their shared journey. Lovette lost herself in the routine, the memories interweaving with each step.

The routine concluded with a final, poignant pose, and for a moment, the world stood still.

Breaking the silence, Mateo's voice cut through the air. "You still skate like you own the ice, Lovette. There's a magic in the way you move—a kind of grace that's indescribable."

A soft smile touched Lovette's lips as she met Mateo's gaze. His genuine compliment reverberated through the frozen air, warming her from the inside out. It was a testament to the connection they had forged on the ice, a connection that time and distance had failed to erase. "Thank you for being here. For doing this."

Skating off the ice, breathless yet exhilarated, Lovette felt a profound gratitude for Mateo's suggestion. Nothing could truly compare to the joy of figure skating—a sentiment that had become increasingly clear to her. As she and Mateo settled on a nearby bench, the vibrations of her phone interrupted the moment.

Chris was calling.

Apologizing to Mateo, she quickly stood up, conveying the urgency of the situation. "I'm sorry, Mateo. I need to take this." Lovette felt a mix of excitement and apprehension as she answered the call.

"Hi!" The word escaped her lips, a blend of eagerness and nervousness.

The call began on a promising note, the warmth in Lovette's voice palpable as she greeted Chris. They exchanged pleasantries, catching up on the details of their lives. However, as the conversation progressed, the underlying tension couldn't be ignored.

"You've been distant lately," Lovette said, frustration and concern seeping into her voice. "I feel like you're not making any effort to keep our relationship alive."

"What are you talking about?" Chris replied defensively.

"I need to feel like you're invested in this relationship, and lately, it seems like you're not," Lovette pressed.

Chris's response was swift and defensive, "Well, what do you want me to do? I can't just drop everything and fly out to Boston every time you want to see me."

"I'm not asking you to do that," Lovette shot back, her frustration escalating. "But it would be nice if you made more of an effort. It's like you're not even trying."

Chris let out a frustrated sigh, the distance between them stretching through the phone line. "It's not like I can just pick up and move to Boston. I have a life and a job here in L.A."

"I know that, Chris. I'm not asking you to move back here. I just want to feel like you're committed to making this work. And lately, it feels like you're not," Lovette's voice trembled, hurt and vulnerability seeping through her words.

The silence that followed was like a looming storm that was about to break. Lovette took a deep breath, summoning the courage to address the growing distance between them. "Chris, we need to talk about this. We can't keep ignoring the issues in our relationship."

Chris's tone turned defensive, "What issues? I told you, I have a life here, and it's not easy juggling everything."

"I understand that, but we can't keep going on like this," Lovette urged, desperation colouring her words.

A strained sigh came from Chris's end, a clear sign of his reluctance to delve into the heart of the matter. "I just don't have time for this right now, Lovette. I have a lot on my plate."

"Chris—"

"I have to go." Chris cut off abruptly, leaving Lovette hanging in the silence of the disconnection. The sudden termination of the call felt like an emotional guillotine, about to sever the fragile thread of communication between them.

She felt the weight of unshed tears welling in her eyes, her lip quivering with the emotional turmoil.

A sudden jolt ran through her when she felt Mateo's comforting hand on her shoulder. His touch, unexpected yet grounding, was a lifeline thrown into the turbulent sea of her emotions.

"You alright?" Mateo asked.

Then the dam broke and Lovette couldn't stop the tears from falling. The frustration of unmet expectations, the hurt of unanswered calls, and the loneliness of her situation poured out in each tear. The vulnerability she tried to shield from the world was now exposed, and Mateo, perceptive in his silence, became a witness to the emotional tempest that raged within her.

Mateo's hand remained on Lovette's shoulder, his touch offering a silent anchor in the storm of emotions. Lovette, unable to contain the floodgate of her tears, felt a mixture of frustration, hurt, and a profound sense of loneliness. As the first sob escaped her, Mateo's grip on her shoulder tightened, and without a word, he pulled her into a warm, reassuring hug. Lovette, enveloped in the embrace, found solace in the comfort of Mateo's presence. His support spoke louder than any words could, and in that moment, she allowed herself to lean on him. She clung to Mateo, her grip on the fabric of his jacket almost desperate.

As the tears subsided, Lovette pulled away from the embrace, her eyes meeting Mateo's. "Sorry," she said hurriedly, wiping away her tears. The apology hung in the air, a reflexive response to a vulnerability she seldom revealed.

Mateo offered a gentle smile, silently communicating that he was there for her. "You don't have to apologize," he assured, his understanding gaze speaking volumes.

Lovette gazed into Mateo's understanding eyes, leaving her torn between the comfort of his presence and the unsettling uncertainty of what awaited in the aftermath of her conversation with Chris.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
hi 😀

Chris pushing away Lovette but that is unintentionally pushing her towards Mateo... such a silly boy!

also for anyone who is curious as to what their final duet song is, it's Flying by the next step!

i hope you all enjoyed it!

until next time <3!