it started with suspicious calls, a shrill ring, then a hushed whisper as his father ducks into the other room. has since evolved into late nights at work--team meetings, so he'd call them, that ran til almost 2 in the morning when he’d finally return to them smelling like malt liquor and cheap perfume. this night, 12 year old dallas stays awake, hoping then hoping not to catch a glimpse of what he's suspected all along. it's not until 2 on the dot, hours after his mother has dutifully retired to what's supposed to be their shared bed, that he sees it under the faint, half-light of the moon. his dad shoulders his coaching duffel, then bends to kiss some woman that is not his mother, goodnight.
it’s the first time he ever saw red. came sprinting out the house, yelling “that ain’t my momma” loud enough to let the whole neighborhood in on what had been going on in the dallas household. it was also the first, and only time, his daddy ever slapped him clean across his face.
regardless of anything he says, dallas is a relationship kind of guy. he appreciates the stability of it, doesn’t mind merging his life with someone else’s as long as the lines don’t blur. it’s probably why he spends so much time at this dance studio now, lugging in supplies, and filling up on desk mints while the middle aged receptionist flirts, reminding him that she’s flexible, too. he likes peeking in, when he can, on bianca in her element. smiles instantly, at someone so hotheaded suddenly so patient in the midst of her primaballerinas. it’s why, he decides she deserves a little something extra today. he knows better than to scuff up the floors, discarding his outside shoes at the door when he drops in. a dozen of distracted kiddos scurry in his direction, chanting “dallas, dallas!” ever since he brought candy for halloween he’s been popular in these parts. “i’m gone after this, don’t wanna interrupt your class, but i just picked these up” he unveils a shoebox containing a pair of dance shoes, so new they practically sparkle. “you know since them old ones you had was beat” he keeps it pg, kisses her cheek, and still a dozen ‘ews’ sound behind him. but he just wants her to know that what’s important to her, is important to him too. @misbeehaved
🗝 ― a memory you never want to forget.
he had tried to convince himself that the captain’s vote wasn’t such a big deal. he could still be a valuable team member, it was merely a title. but he’s not that type--to delude himself into feeling better. he wants it, more than anything he’s ever wanted until this point, and isn’t afraid to admit it. so bad that when their coach calls for hands, he has to play it cool when really it’s hard to swallow the lump in his throat. but as more, and more hands rise, in his favor, it becomes increasingly clear that it’s unanimous. he’s their team’s leader.
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