༺ TEN ༻

"I got the role!" Is the first thing I yell before I attack Dad with a hug. "They chose me! I'm gonna dance for Clara! And Thomas says the boy I'm gonna dance with is nice!"

There's a sigh when I say the they chose me again, but I can't care.

He laughs, kissing my forehead. "Congrats, love. You're gonna do amazing."

I jump into Sonya's arms, who surely didn't expect that. "I got the role! I'm going to be Clara, Nya! And Thomas congratulated me!"

She hugs me back, chuckling. "Everyone is congratulating you. Congrats, sis."

"Thank you!" I can't stop myself from hugging Mom again. "Mommy, I'm going to be freaking Clara!"

She laughs. "I'm glad you're so excited. I'm proud of you, love."

My eyes are glistering with tears when I look up. "Thank you."

"Hey, don't cry." I'm buried in her arms again. "That's gonna make me cry." 

"I'm just so happy," I hiccup.

And it's also my period.

"Why don't you choose a nice dinner to celebrate?" Dad suggests.

I hum. "Poke bowls?"

"Sounds good." He nods, sitting down on the couch. Soon, everyone follows his example.

"Can we—" I start, but never finish the sentence. Luckily, no one notices.

It'd be weird as hell to invite Thomas over, though I'd like his presence for a reason I can't understand. I mean, I like him. He's a good... friend?

But friend sounds weird because I don't think it's normal to blush that much around a friend.

Whatever.

"Hey, Sonya?" I scoot closer to the girl. "How about tomorrow you and I go do some shopping together? Before my work? There's a cute bakery I'd like to visit."

She nods happily. "Sounds good, Rose."

I smile. "It does, doesn't it?"

❤︎︎

The bakery we walk into is a cutely decorated one, and I love watching the cakes getting exchanged and eaten by people, because they're so beautiful and look delicious.

"Hey, you're the girl Thomas keeps talking about!"

My head shoots up at his name. Immediately, there's a warmer feeling in my body and I feel my cheeks heat up. "Uh— me?" I point between Sonya and I. "Or... her?"

Only then I look at the dark-skinned boy behind the bar. He's smiles a sweet smile, his brown eyes glowing. "You. I know Sonya already. She's my friend. And I'm pretty sure you're Thomas's girl, not Sonya."

"Ohh, you're Fry!" I realize, holding out my hand. "Nice to meet y— did you just call me Thomas's girl?"

Fry chuckles. "Well, you're not his friend for sure."

I frown. Not even because his name is strange, but because of his words. My lip juts forward without control. "I'm not Thomas's friend?"

His eyes widen. "No, no! I didn't mean it like that. I mean... whatever. I'm not gonna start drama to explain."

My confusion doubles. "He doesn't like me? Wait, am I annoying him and did he tell you that and- and I don't know!"

"He finds you awesome, trust me." Fry winks. Either Thomas got it from him, or he got it from Thomas. "Not annoying."

"Okay." Relief floods my chest. "How many friends does Thomas have, by the way? Everyone I seem to meet is his friend. First Winston, then Aris, and now you."

"Small town," he says. "Now, we're holding up a line. Can I get you girls anything?"

I look at Sonya. "Which one do you want?"

She points at a cupcake.

"Okay, we'll take that one. And a coffee for me, please," I say.

"On it's way. Seven dollars."

I pay for the food and my drink before we sit down at a small table in the corner of the bakery.

"Why didn't you get food? I thought you found them so beautiful."

"Too beautiful to eat," I confirm. "Kidding, breakfast was big and I'm full. Though they are very beautiful."

She shrugs. "Alright, then. Do you think I can stay here while you work? To study? Fry can provide me of free drinks."

I smile, nodding. "Sure. Just be safe."

Sonya rolls her eyes. "Will be."

❤︎︎

"I met your friend in a bakery," I tell Thomas once we're at work. This whole week has made me realize how often I see him. It's almost abnormal. "He was nice."

"Frypan?" Thomas looks up. He's wearing a black polo under the apron, which I by now notice he always wears under it. Or at least any polo, and then lose pants. "Yeah, he's awesome."

"Is that really his name?" I frown. "It's interesting. I've never heard anyone with that name. Though as a baker, it might fit him well."

Thomas laughs, and it sounds awesome to my ears. "His real name is Siggy, but Minho came up with the nickname Frypan. It's almost his real name now."

"Ah-ha." I nod.

We're mostly cleaning up this Sunday. There aren't a lot of guests because we work at noon today, though a few people wouldn't pass the opportunity to get an Italian lunch.

"So you're all kind of a friend group?" I wonder. "Minho, you, Aris, Frypan, Winston?"

"Pretty much. Funny thing, Sonya is friends with Aris and Fry, too."

"She mentioned them before, yeah." I nod again. A sigh leaves my mouth. "Must be nice to have such a big friend group."

He smiles. "It is. And Newt's getting used to it, too. It's awesome."

I can't help but be jealous. I want a friend group too. There's no one in this town or any town where I've lived who I can call when I'm bored, or who I hang out with in my free time.

That are the outcomes from thinking I spend so much time dancing. After all, there's a lot of hours in which I'm doing nothing.

Though The Nutcracker will change it for sure. Janson said that I, as Clara, have to dance almost every day to stay on schedule, so maybe that'll distract me.

"Hellooo." Fingers snap in front of my eyes. "Keep the pretty head here, Blondie."

I blink a few times. "Sorry, did you say anything?"

"Well, I said Teresa mentioned she would like to hang out with you more often but I'm sure you're not interested in that.." He cracks a smile as mine grows bigger. "Here's her number."

Cheerfully, I note it on my phone. "Thank you, Thomas."

He gives me a soft smile, which my eyes brighten at. "No problem."

"I owe you a lot," I murmur.

He chuckles. "Don't worry. You don't owe me anything. I enjoy helping." A pause. "Also, Newt and I are gonna hang out so why don't you just go back with me?"

"Sure." I shrug. "Thanks already."

❤︎︎

I'm nervous for tomorrow. I'll meet Aris and do some stuff that'll get us used to each other, like simple moves and talking to each other.

So here I am, sitting on my bedroom floor as I try to decide what will be good to practice. Janson will definitely tell him to lift me up a few times and crap like that.

Before I know it, my eyes have trailed to the mirror. What if he finds me too heavy? What if I lose balance and I fall? What if we don't match well? What if he hates me like all dancers my age so far have, excluding Teresa?

A loud sigh leaves my mouth. I stand up, flexing my shoulders from how long I sat on the hard ground before. My eyes trail back to my reflection in the mirror.

They trail over the green tank top and black shorts I'm wearing as a chill outfit, and go down my thighs. I see what Janson meant with the eight pounds. There's some fat on my legs that shouldn't be there and my waist isn't curved like an hourglass or something. My upper arms are thick when I relax them, and there's so many other small things.

It's always the small things.

And I hate that I thought I'd be able to lose eight pounds before auditions, while I haven't even gone past five by now. Tomorrow, someone will lift me up and notice.

I shouldn't have eaten the spaghetti Thomas gave me, or recommend the poke bowls that turned out unhealthy, or given up on the salad dinners. The only good thing is that I skipped a nice cupcake.

Then, the door opens and I nearly fall from how much that scared me.

Thomas almost storms in, then stops with his mouth wide open, and says, "This does not look like the bathroom."

"The bathroom is next to my room," I tell him.

But he doesn't leave yet. Instead, he looks around. "That's a lot of ballet decorations you have there."

"Yeah." I look down, slightly embarrassed he almost caught me judging myself like that in the mirror.

"Hm." He walks over to my nightstand, where both a white and a black swan stand on. "You have both."

"I like both. Though I'm a white swan, I like the black one, too."

He sits down on my bed, holding the pieces. "What's the difference?"

"It's like introverted and extroverted, or sunshine and grumpy," I summarize. "White swan symbolize innocence, purity, and love. Black swans are often symbolized as the bad guys in plays, but I think they're mysterious, less open, and unexpected."

Thomas hums again. "Which one would you say I am?"

"Both," I reply. Just like that, I say it. "I guess you're pure and lovable, yet also have something mysterious and can do unexpected things. But there's a lot of different meanings behind the swans."

Thomas puts them back down with a small grin. "So I'm not innocent?"

My face gains more color. "Maybe. I don't know."

"And I'm mysterious?"

"Yes. You don't tell much about certain things. Like Janson, why Teresa really quit, that company, and the accident you went through. Somehow, I feel like it's all connected."

I didn't mean to say the last words. Neither do I feel like it's all connected, but now I say it, it makes sense.

"Maybe," he says.

"Would you tell me? At least about the company?"

He gets up, muttering something before his voice turns clear and he coughs while vaguely shaking his head. "I just realized it's still not the bathroom I'm in."

I swallow a sudden lump in my throat away. Did I ask for too much? "Door on the right," I call.

"Thanks."