After doing some serious online research, I decide to contact the Broadway Dance Center. Not only does it have a phenomenal reputation, but New York, New York isn't that far away. Checking to make sure my geography wasn't off, I confirmed it was only about an hours flight away. I was more than willing to make that trek if it meant keeping me out of trouble.

When Ben finally got it out of me what I was doing with my nose buried in my laptop, he, of course, made fun of me. I became defensive; old me would have made a crack about his weight and how he should sign up with me. However, I didn't want to be an ass to someone who was there for me when I was trying so hard to put myself back together. Instead I told him the truth behind it all, and he, surprisingly, apologized for his initial teasing.

"Why do you look so shocked?" Ben asked me with a chuckle, looking a bit perplexed.

I want to say Because it's weird knowing how much you care about me. I want to tell him, Because I've grown accustomed to me doing the apologizing. But I know that would only lead to a spiral of negativity on my end. Instead I merely shrug and go back to staring at my screen, ending the conversation.

I'm a little dismayed when I see they don't offer straight up ballroom dancing on their website. I'm a little excited when I find a few of the instructors are trained in it, however. Then, in a flash or brilliance wherein I remember who the fuck I am, call them up. After chatting for a little while it's confirmed they don't teach ballroom. However, once I tell them who I am, and that money means literally nothing to me, I'm given the names of some dance instructors to get in contact with.

So I hop on their profiles online, trying to dissect everything in this world of dance I don't understand. Before I know it an hour has gone by, and I have at least ten million tabs open. Finally deciding on one, I pick up the phone, hoping I'm able to catch them. I'm thrilled when on the third ring, the line picks up.

"Hello, this is Christine?"

"Hi Christine, I hope I'm not bothering you?"

A hesitation, and then, "No. May I ask who's calling?"

I take a deep breath, switching into Professional Orion (as my friends have dubbed the serious side of me). "I'm Orion Bauwens. I was provided your contact information by Gwynne, at the Broadway Dance Center? I'm interested in taking up ballroom dancing. I understand the Center doesn't provide classes in that, but I was sort of hoping we might be able to work something out, either through the Center or privately?"

There's a pause, and I hear Christine take a deep breath.

"Mr. Bauwens," she replies. "Please don't take offense to this, but is there some way you can confirm who you say you are?"

"Sure," I reply with a chuckle. "I'll send you a selfie, a la Reddit way, with a hand written paper with the time and date. Does that work?"

"Sure," she replies, and then adds quickly, "I'm really sorry if I offended you--"

I laugh. "No offense taken. I'm going to hang up now and do that selfie, okay?"

"Alright."

"Yo, Ben!" I call as I'm hanging up. "I need paper and a marker!"

A few seconds later, my drummer comes into the kitchen. "Sure--what for?"

"Just get me the damn paper." I pause then and smile. "Please."

"Whatever, weirdo," he mumbles, and then leaves. After a minute he comes back with what I've requested. Scribbling down the date and time, I take a few selfies, with different expressions. I hadn't realized Ben was half-watching.

"Prima donna!" he shouts at me, walking past the room.

I laugh, but then realize he's right. So I send the selfie, just of me with my head tilted slightly down, a smirk on my face. Seconds after I send it the phone rings.

"Hello, this is Orion Bauwens," I say, even though I know it's Christine on the other end.

"Thank you for humoring me," Christine says, and I've been doing this long enough to hear in her voice she is trying really, really hard not to freak out.

It's stupid, she can't see me, but I naturally flash my disarming, 'it's okay, relax' smile. "It's no problem, seriously."

"Mr. Bauwens, before we get into what exactly you're looking for, may I say something?"

I chuckle. "Sure, of course."

She takes a breath, and her composure admittedly impresses me. Then again, I'm sure she's trained famous people before. I mean, according to her profile she's fairly famous in her own right, I just had never heard of her. "I really enjoy your work, and I once used Diaphragm as the music to an interpretive dance in a competition--which, I totally won, by the way," she finishes, sounding smug.

"Aw!" I say, pressing my hand to my chest. I hope she can tell by my voice I'm being truthful. "That's so awesome, I'm genuinely flattered! Thank you so much."

She laughs a little. "You're welcome." She takes a deep breath and composes herself. "So, Mr. Bauwens, let's discuss briefly what you're looking for, and we'll see if I'm a good fit for you. You're interested in ballroom, correct?"

"Correct."

"And do you have any experience in ballroom dancing?"

I give my nervous laugh.

A pause. "Do you have any experience in dancing, period?"

I laugh nervously again, which makes Christine laugh.

"I'll take that as a no."

I laugh, but it's normal. "Have you seen any of my concerts? I just sort of flop around on stage."

That makes her crack up. "Yes, I've actually been to quite a few of your concerts, Mr. Bauwens."

I grin, relaxing. I think this is the start of something beautiful. "Please--call me Orion."

~

Once Christine and I were done hammering out details (meeting twice a week on Mondays and Thursdays), I shut my laptop. However, I didn't move. Instead I sat, and began to ponder.

Was this really going to work? Was dancing going to be a good enough distraction? It was a handful of hours per week--what would I do with the rest of my time?

"Uh-oh."

I lift my head and find Ben staring at me as he moves to the fridge. Removing a can of pop, he tosses me a water bottle. Afterwards, he slides into the seat across from me.

"Uh-oh?" I ask.

"You have that, 'I'm lost in the deep caverns of my mind' look."

"Oh." I open up the bottle and take a drink. "Well...I mean, yeah."

Ben laughs. "That wasn't a sentence, Ori."

I sigh and pick at the label, looking at it instead of him. "I just..."

"Orion."

I look at him, and he's sitting with his arms crossed, lips puckered at me. I look back down at the label.

"Orion," he says with a softer edge.

I look at Ben again. He sighs and uncrosses his arms.

"I know you and Jake have always been closer than you and I. But whatever's going on, you gotta open up, okay? Please?"

I look down, feeling ashamed.

"Look...I'm not trying to claim I know what it's like to walk in your shoes."

I look up, and this time I keep eye contact as he speaks.

"In general, I'm never going to get you. You know me--I'm a pretty happy, laid back guy."

I nod.

"So I'm never going to understand what it's like to have a heart like yours. One that's been stabbed, and beaten, misused and ruined time and time again. But the thing is, Ori, even after all that, your heart is still beating."

My lips part slightly, surprised.

"And yeah, I don't know all the details...I'm not even sure I want to know all the details...But I've known you since we were Freshman, Ori. I saw your pain. I saw all your black eyes, and when you'd come to school limping, and when your lip was busted. And please, don't insult my intelligence and act like I was oblivious to the days you were really quiet, as though saying a simple 'hi' was too much for you."

Now I blush.

"Orion," Ben says finally. "The point is, this isn't going to work if you don't lean on me, okay?"

I try to swallow the lump that's in my throat away. I nod.

"Well?" Ben asks me then.

"I just--" my voice cracks, so I clear it. "I'm worried I'm gonna screw up again. You know, fall off the wagon again."

"I won't let you."

That makes me roll my eyes.

"I'm serious. Over my dead body, Orion Bauwens."

That makes me smile. I still don't believe him.

Ben continues. "If you're not going to believe in yourself, believe in me."

Once again, I'm surprised.

"Please?"

So I nod.

Ben smiles then. "Good. Now--what do you want for dinner, idiot?"