"How'd today go?" My dad asked me as I walked through the door. The bus had taken ages to arrive and mum was already back home although she wasn't downstairs thankfully. I knew that if I saw her I would get another burst of rage through my body and I didn't know how many times I could handle feeling that kind of emotion towards someone I used to adore. "Your mum told me you hung back with some friends."
"Oh did she?" I muttered.  Of course she would tell him a complete lie to save her own skin. 
"What happened?" He asked me and rested a hand on my shoulder.
"She bought me a tutu so I got the bus home," I told him the simplest form. Much better than telling him that she had asked me if I was a girl and then bought girls clothing just in case I had changed my mind about the whole thing. I couldn't face crying, I had nearly done that on the bus so many times on the way home. I somehow  managed to block out the tears by listening to my music as I watched the trees drift past the window. The last thing I wanted was to go to dance class with a blotchy face and blurry vision. 
"Wasn't that a bit of an overreaction?" I pushed his hand away from me. "I'm sure she didn't realise you don't wear them."
"She knew," I said bitterly and glanced at the clock on the wall. "Anyway I've got to get ready."
"I'll drop you off," he told me as a way to make up for momentarily agreeing with my mum. 

~

I hated dance. Note the past tense because I now love to dance. I used to think dancing was feminine, I used to hate everything about the movements but when I began to accept myself I realised that activities don't have gender labels attached and I could be myself and still love to move freely across a floor like Billy Elliot.
Dancing was the only time I could feel like myself. It was just me and the music. No one could stop me from living and breathing the sweet melody playing from Miss Chic's radio... except maybe a black haired boy. 

"What are you doing here?" I hissed. My foul mood amplifying when I saw Phil in the boys changing room of the dance studio. 
"I should be asking you the same question," he told me with a smirk and leant against the wall, his fingers gripping the clothing hooks. "Girls is the next door down the hall, Dani." 
"You don't dance!" I snapped, ignoring his quip at my gender.
"Obviously I do," he replied casually as he pointed at his gym bag to show his shirt and leggings poking out of the top. They were so new they still had the labels on, guess he missed that when he was too busy trying to be sarcastic.
"Some people actually take this stuff seriously so get lost!" I continued, balling up my fists but Phil looked anything but angry. He seemed casual and mellow.
"I need this if I wanna continue sports," he told me with a shrug, "my mum wants me to do something other than basket ball."
"There's a great swimming place not far from here, go for that," I encouraged. Phil seemed someone who was more built to swim than to dance.
"Too late oops," he scoffed. 

I sighed and turned away to get changed. I hated that jerk, I decided as I yanked my shirt off. Suddenly I felt very aware of all the bare flesh in the room. Since I was early it was only the two of us in the room but I felt more self conscious than when the room was full. I absentmindedly looked back at Phil and stood speechless for a second. I was in awe of his figure, I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away no matter how many times I convinced myself I should. He was taking his shirt off and I could see his pale skin underneath. He was skinny but with slight muscles forming, probably from his basketball games. His hair fluffed up when his shirt was off and spread out over his face producing an amazing contrast between his black hair and almost white skin. I stared at his chest the most, though. I looked at how flat it was, how small and compact his body was in general. His hips were straight, he had the most perfect boy body and I would know from the many times I had obsessed over them.  

"Stop staring at me, hetero!" Phil snapped when he saw me looking and shoved on his black shirt to cover himself up. I regained my posture. 
"I wasn't staring!" I said but felt my cheeks go bright red and knew they had given me away. "And... and... if I was I'd be gay, not hetero."
"Strange. I didn't know a girl liking a guy was called that." He shrugged and turned away from me. "A girl liking a guy is what we normies call heterosexual."
"Good thing I'm not a girl then," I told him. 

AN:
Hey hey! Sorry this update took so long. I was set on updating this story everyday during half term but I got a stomach bug .-.
- Rach x