Chased by My Possessive Ex (Dylan) novel Chapter 10

DYLAN

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I took a deep breath before I entered Diane’s studio. A few people greeted me as I entered the premises, but I can also notice those few people who are glancing at me from head to toe as if they were judging me for even being there. As soon as they recognized me, I could see how they started whispering while looking at me.

I tried to ignore that uncomfortable stare and went straight to the reception to log in. The receptionist handed me the logbook.

“You may now proceed to room eight,” she instructed me.

Before I went ahead to the room she mentioned, I tried to ask her about Diane. “Is Diane here?” I asked.

“Yes, Miss Diane is here,” she replied, emphasizing the word “miss” as if she was telling me that I can’t be on a first–name basis with the owner of this place.

I swallowed the invisible lump in my throat and tried to brush off her obvious judgement. “Can you please tell me where she is? I need to talk to her.”

She forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes before responding, “I’ll let her know if I see her.”

I opened my mouth to press the issue, wanting to emphasize the urgency, but she swiftly cut me off.

“Your class is waiting for you, Dylan. Parents don’t appreciate their money going to waste, and being late means losing money.”

I clenched my jaw as frustration started bubbling inside me. I wanted to insist on it, but it was clear she wasn’t going to budge.

With a heavy sigh, I ran a hand through my hair and took a step back. “If you see her, can you please tell her I need to talk to her? It’s important.”

She gave a slight nod before turning away, already dismissing me. I hesitated for a second, debating whether to push further, but I knew it wouldn’t get me anywhere.

Some mothers in the lobby who witnessed our interaction were looking at me with judgement in their eyes. I took a deep breath as I deliberately forced myself to ignore them.

I proceed to go to my class with a heavy feeling. I need to come up with the money tonight or I might find myself on the streets. I tried to call my parents before I left the apartment, but they weren’t answering my calls. I texted them as well to inform them about the situation, but I haven’t heard anything from them.

I took a deep breath, pushing aside my frustration as I stepped into the dance studio. The room was filled with tiny giggles and excited chatter; a dozen little kids in pink leotards and ballet slippers scattered across the floor. Some were spinning in circles; others were sitting, completely uninterested in warming up.

My heart pounded. This was it–my first time teaching ballet to kids this young.

“Alright, everyone, let’s gather in a circle!” I clanned my hands trying to get their attention. A few of them

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immediately toddled toward me, eyes bright with excitement. But the rest? They carried on as if I hadn’t spoken at all.

I sighed, forcing a smile. Patience, Dylan. You need patience.

I crouched beside a little girl who was busy adjusting her ballet shoes. “Hey there, sweetheart. Want to join us in the circle?”

She looked up at me with wide, serious eyes. “My mommy says I’m a princess, so I don’t have to listen to anybody.”

I blinked. Oh, boy.

Before I could think of how to respond, a little boy came barreling toward me, arms flailing. “Miss, miss! Look, I can do a twirl!”

I barely had time to step back before he spun around wildly–only to get dizzy and plop right onto his bottom. He blinked up at me in surprise before breaking into a fit of giggles.

Despite myself, I laughed. This was going to be a challenge.

“Okay, okay,” I clapped again. “Let’s start with something fun! First, let me introduce myself. My name is Dylan.” However, it seems like they weren’t interested in knowing my name. “Second, who wants to pretend to be a butterfly?”

That did the trick. A few kids immediately flapped their arms, making tiny ‘whooshing‘ sounds. Others giggled and hopped in place.

I took another deep breath, clapping my hands again to gather their attention. “Alright, little butterflies, let’s start with something simple.”

A few of them stopped flapping their arms long enough to listen, while others kept twirling in their own little worlds. I smiled, reminding myself that patience was key.

“Let’s all stand in first position,” I said, demonstrating by placing my heels together and turning my toes outward. “Can everyone do this?”

A few of the kids tried, some nailing it perfectly while others fumbled, their little feet pointing in every direction but the right one.

I crouched beside one of the younger girls, gently adjusting her stance. “There you go, sweetheart. Just like

that.”

She beamed up at me. “I did it?”

“You did it,” I confirmed with a smile.

I looked around and saw a little boy attempting to balance on one foot instead. “Miss Dylan, look! I’m flying!”

I chuckled. “That’s amazing, but let’s keep both feet on the floor for now.”

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Chapter 10

Once they had their feet somewhat in position, I moved on. “Now, let’s try a plié! That means we bend our knees gently, like we’re dipping into a bowl of warm soup.”

“Soup?” One of the kids giggled.

“Yes! We don’t want to spill the soup, so we have to be very gentle,” I explained.

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They all bent their knees, some wobbling, others giggling as they tried to balance. One little boy squatted so low he plopped onto the floor with a thud. He blinked up at me, then burst into laughter.

“That’s a little too deep, buddy,” I said, helping him up.

We spent the next several minutes practicing simple movements–pliés, tendus, and little jumps I introduced as “bunny hops” to keep their attention. Every few seconds, someone would get distracted, and I had to gently guide them back to the routine.

Just when I thought things were going smoothly, chaos erupted.

“My feet hurt!” a little girl whined, stomping one of them against the wooden floor.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” another boy pouted, plopping down on the floor with his arms crossed.

“I’m thirsty!” A tiny voice piped up from the back.

And just like that, the entire class turned into a chorus of complaints.

“My tutu is itchy!”

“Miss Dylan, he pushed me!”

“I want to go home!”

I crouched down to their level, clapping my hands to get their attention. “Alright, alright. I know we’re all getting a little tired, but let’s take a deep breath together, okay?”

“No! I don’t want to!” One of my students, a tiny girl with messy pigtails, screamed at the top of her lungs. She stomped her foot on the floor so hard that her pink ballet slipper nearly slipped off. Her face was scrunched in defiance, her little arms crossed tightly over her chest. “I want my mommy! I don’t like you! You’re not a good teacher!”

I sucked in a slow breath through my nose, my jaw clenching as I forced myself to stay calm.

Before I could respond, another voice piped up from behind me.

“Yeah! This is boring!” a little boy shouted, flopping onto the floor dramatically. “Why do we have to do this? I want to go home!”

“I want a snack!”

“Can we just play instead?”

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The chorus of complaints swelled around me, and I could feel my patience slipping, piece by piece. I had been trying–really trying–to stay calm, to be the patient and kind teacher these kids needed. But after an entire morning of tantrums, whining, and refusal to follow even the simplest instructions, I felt the last thread of my restraint snap.

I stood up abruptly, placing my hands on my hips. “Enough!”

My voice came out sharper than I intended, cutting through the noise like a clap of thunder. The room instantly fell into stunned silence. A few kids blinked up at me in shock, their mouths slightly open. One little girl’s lip trembled as if she might start crying.

Just as I was about to open my mouth to apologize, the door to the studio swung open. I turned, my stomach dropping as Diane, the head instructor, stepped inside. Her sharp gaze swept over the room, her heels clicking against the polished wooden floor as she walked toward me with an air of quiet authority.

“What is going on here?” she asked, her voice calm but laced with disapproval.

The kids stood frozen, as if sensing the tension in the air. Some lowered their heads, while others shuffled uncomfortably in their ballet slippers. I swallowed hard, already knowing I was in trouble.

Diane’s eyes landed on me, her brows knitting together. “Dylan, could you please step out for a minute?” she said.

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