Erik was often late in the morning. Chris still couldn’t muster the courage to tell him to be on time, so instead, he Instragrammed the clock on the wall. He posed a question: What do you think about people who always show up late? 

His friends were quick to respond:

They’re dicks! 

It means their time is more important than yours. People like that are the worst!

Someone standing you up on a date, Chris? ;p

There’s nothing more disrespectful than being late!

What? Do you have a boyfriend or something??? My heart is broken. ;)

His friends’ virtual pitchforks further validated Chris’s annoyance. 

Next, he texted Kevin, asking if he’d heard anyone talking trash lately, filling him in on the nasty locker note. Kevin’s text was simple: Obviously the Prima Donna Boy did it. What a prick!! 

When Erik finally showed, he said his usual, “Bonjour,” which Chris always returned with a, “Hi.” Often, there was then the awkward exchange where Chris asked how he was, and Erik gave the strangest replies, such as “cloudy” or “today, I have a new thought.” He never asked the question back, so Chris figured it wasn’t a part of his culture. Or Erik just didn’t care.

“Hey, by the way,” Chris said, “I got a weird letter on my locker.”

He studied Erik carefully, but he showed little reaction. In fact, it appeared he didn’t hear Chris as he moved to the stereo.

“This letter,” Chris continued, “said I should quit being Odetto, or I’ll be destroyed before I step foot on stage. It was signed the True Odetto, which was creepy.”

Erik faced him again. “I get letters like that, as well. There are people who are jealous.” 

“It’s not acceptable,” Chris said firmly. Again, his tone grew stronger.

Erik blinked, seemingly worried now. “Of course, it is upsetting. I will make sure everyone knows that kind of behavior is not tolerated.” He paused. “Do you need the day off?”

“No, no, I… I didn’t mean to snap at you about it. I’m fine.” Chris turned around, feeling worse than before. 

Confusion hit him: Erik, the most likely culprit, seemed visibly upset by the letter once he realized how distraught it made Chris. Was it not Erik after all?

Despite the uncomfortable start, once Chris’s hand touched the barre, his feet in first position, he calmed down. Erik vocally guided him through that morning’s routine in French, which was simple enough to follow. There was familiarity with the scuffling of his feet on the wood floor, the soft lilt of the recorded piano, and his primary companion acting as his reflection. The more time went on, his reflection became a friend rather than an enemy who reminded him of the flaws in his position. Eventually, the reflection became helpful, and it seemed like it was just him and him, with no time ticking. 

Only, when Erik touched him to correct him, he jolted out of his trance and wrestled with nerves all over again.

Erik continued training with Chris, giving him the same attention and efforts as before their role reversal. However, Chris couldn’t help but worry. Was it all an act? What was really going on behind those gray eyes? 

+++

During the afternoons and evenings, Erik parted from Chris to train other dancers, among them Chris’s understudy, Beau. Like many, Chris settled himself on the floor to watch the two renowned stars dance the pas de deux. It shot unbearable pain through him to see Beau dance in his place. Scratchy claws of jealousy and insecurity raked his nerves, yet he couldn’t tear his eyes off them. Erik and Beau were like two peas in a pod—both extremely skilled, radiantly handsome with near-matching blond hair. Not to mention, they shared the same first language and were chummy enough for Erik to give him the French cheek-graze greeting. 

The more Chris observed Erik in his natural ballet habitat, the more he learned about the difference in how he treated certain dancers. He called the ones he was friendly with by their first names, and they all happened to be big shots. Everyone from Europe also always greeted Erik with a “bonjour.” 

With Chris, Erik was always serious and turned the studio into Antarctica—a place too frigid for even penguins to survive. With Beau, he was relaxed and the two often laughed. Erik’s eyes even sparkled; he acted boyish and less like a stone statue. Was this who he really was? Who danced with Chris in Studio B? 

The spiral of negative thoughts wouldn’t stop. What if Erik begged Johan to make Beau Odetto instead? Who wouldn’t want to see the famed Beau and Erik dance the pas de deux? It’d make a great press release.

The two finished the pas de deux like the pros they were. After the final pose, they parted and bowed to each other in an over-the-top, princely manner, both their golden hair dripping down. Once they straightened, they laughed together.

Chris chewed his fingernail. He was so screwed.