Counter Punch [g.d. au]
Summary: Things have heated up between Y/N and professional boxer, Grayson Dolan, and she finally decides to take him up on his offer to visit him on his turf for once. Meanwhile, Grayson proves that heโs still unable to keep his balance in check.
A/N: This is a continuation to an earlier blurb I wrote called โArabesquesโ. I encourage you to read that before this, but it isnโt a necessity! Sorry this took so long, and also itโs probably god awful.ย Donโt really think anyone cares about this or my work anymore, but I figured Iโd just postโฆ Soโฆ here ya go
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โPoint your feet please! Remember, pretty toes! Pretty toes, Lucy!โ
โMiss. Y/N, my toes are as pretty as they are going to get!โ
The sudden burst of sass is a telltale sign that the little ballerinas have probably had enough for the day, making you pause to look over them once you realize just how long youโd been pushing them for. Lucy, with her permanent pout and brows turned down, stares back at you, her tiny feet bouncing eagerly as she notices that certain look in your eyes. She waited on the edge of her seat for the chance to finally be dismissed, so she could run back out into the hall and take a sip from the water fountain before sneaking a peek into Mr. Marceloโs class โ the new center of her affection after a certain temporary ballerina had decided his time with the company needed to come to an end. You look at the other girls as well, some stifling tiny yawns, and others rubbing tiredly at their eyes โ further solidifying your decision that it was time for practice to end in exchange for their daily naps.
It had been a long ballet class this Saturday in preparation for the recital that was just around the corner. For the most part, the girls had been good at practicing their routines and listening intently to your different critiques and instructions. However, there was only so much of the little four, and five-year-oldโs attention you could keep; they were impatient now, and their focus was obviously running thin. You start to notice some of them too busy making faces at their reflections in the mirror to pay attention to anything you had been saying, and decide they were all too far gone to perform at their most capable at this point. It wasnโt only them that was losing focus though; you were just as eager to get out of there once you remembered your own after-class plans. So, without another second to waste, you clap your hands together to get their attention and smile through your admitted defeat.
โAlright, girls, how about we call it a day, yeah? I can see youโre all tired. I wonโt keep you any longer.โ
You would have thought you just announced that you were taking them all out for ice cream with the way they cheered and pushed themselves away from the ballet bar. Tiny, pale-colored, tutus turned into a blur as small, ballerina shoes padded past you swiftly in a race for the door, all of them eagerly pushing one another to find their parent who was sat patiently waiting in the break room to take them home. Some were already calling out for their mommas, others yelling for chicken nuggets or mac nโ cheese to cease their grumbling bellies; meanwhile, Lucy was yanking on the door handle with all her might, yelling for someone to โget me outta here!!โ as dramatically as she could. In any case, the focus was obviously no longer on dance, and you were glad you called it a day when you did.