James isn't the (thedanseur) wrote in repose, @ 2018-10-07 16:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, adrian march, jamie mayer |
Rec center: Jamie & Adrian
Who: Adrian M and Jamie M
When: Fuzzy-recent
Warnings: Tights? HIGHLY unlikely.
Full disclosure? Jamie didn't believe anyone from the town forums would show up to a class. It was super casual business promotion, to drop it in like, oh hey, come learn to pirouette but he didn't think anyone from the forums actually would. There were some moms, from the neighborhood who came to do like, barre but he didn't give a discount to the group of women who made him think of the kind of bitchy cheerleader who had made high school as miserable as they could achieve, which was like, considerable mileage. They came with their reusable coffee cups and their yoga mats, and they stretched and he taught and he felt a little guilty he didn't like, like any of them but not so bad that he cared after class ended.
He was into a rhythm with the rec center. He rented one of the rooms, which was mostly windows and bare floors and standing barres that got carried into the center that were pushed to the back. There was a sound system, which was Jamie's, with an iPod dock, and the place rocked out to salsa for the old people once a week and to contemporary/hip-hop stuff when the kids came in on a Saturday morning. He liked the kids, because they were enthusiasm and energy but secretly? Jamie liked the old people best. There was something about the way Bob would hold Angela's hand, like solicitous and gentle and kind that made him think of grandparents he never exactly had, or people he wanted to grow up and be.
Whatever, ballet class. Which was adults-only, which meant there was like, a forty-something woman who wore a skirt-suit somewhere high powered in warm-ups stretching, and a couple of older, graying ladies, and a dude who was pushing fifty, and gloriously dedicated to like the perfect execution of whatever. Super gay, but maybe he came in from the Capital, Jamie couldn't picture him on a farm. It was dusk out, and the windows were open to fall chill, and Jamie wore pants loose at the hips and tight at the ankle, and a loose cotton tank that was only partly ironic and was fiddling with the iPod before class really began.