Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

When it ended, the air felt cold all of a sudden, and I
breathed hard, remembering I wasn’t alone.
“Are you…are you still there?” I asked, my mouth
parched.
He didn’t say anything for a moment, but when he did, his
voice was calm. “The way you move, it’s…different.”
“Different than what?” I stilled, breathing hard.
But he didn’t answer. I’d gathered my teachers were
sometimes frustrated with me over years because I improvised.
A lot. I appreciated the classical education I’d received, but I
didn’t want to do the same things that had already been done
to death. I kind of just went on impulse, because it made me
happy. Did he not like it?
I found my way to the chair again and sat down, removing
my pointe shoes. “Are you still thinking you might hurt me?” I
broached.
“I’m not in a hurry.”
I almost laughed. It was a pointless question to ask,
because I didn’t expect him to tell me the truth, but somehow,
I liked his answer. There was humor in it.
“Why don’t you call the police?” he whispered, and I
could tell his voice had gotten closer. He was approaching me.
I bent over, slipping the first shoe off and stretching out the
ache in my foot. “Did you like the dance?” I asked instead.
“I won’t stop you if you call for help,” he explained. “Not
tonight. GGo ahead.”
“It wasn’t choregraphed. I just improvised.”
“I could kill you,” he pointed out. “It would be over before
you realized what was happening.”
“I want you to like the dance,” I continued, ignoring his
one-sided conversation, because it would mean I would have
to have answers for things I didn’t have answers for yet. “My
parents think the idea of a blind ballet dancer is ridiculous, but
it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. It can be done.”