Molly readjusted her sports bra and resumed first position. Dance class had ended ten minutes ago, but she had a competition coming up and she knew that she really needed the practice. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted their ballet teacher, Dimitri, doing a few moves of his own on the floor. She knew she had to focus, but Molly couldn’t stop her eyes from drifting over to the dark-haired, muscular teacher. He was so graceful when he moved that Molly felt almost embarrassed for herself in his presence. She was a well-trained dancer, having danced since she was just a little girl, but she was nothing compared to Dimitri.
"Come on, Molly," she said to herself, stepping out off of the warm-up bar. "You know this routine. You’ve done it a million times. You can do it."