Hey guys! Happy New Year! Hope you're all having fun while Bella and Edward are here in school, stressing out bout exams and the dance in between making out.

Which reminds me – this chapter is quite different to the stuff I normally do, mainly because I'm rather craptacular at kissing descriptions, so I was wondering if anyone would possibly like to help me out? Oh! We could make it like a competition, and then I can promote the story of the winner wherever I go on the site or something. PM or review me with descriptions/ideas/ ideas for the comp if you're interested.

Or if you need to tell me it's a really bad idea and I'm an idiot, but I wouldn't appreciate that as much. Rose XD

Disclaimer: Nope, not yet.

Monday starts, and again, we are faced with classes.

On the upside, with Angela gone home (even though that's bad), Olive doesn't share a room with anyone, which means one less person to share a bathroom with in the mornings. It is a miracle what an extra fifteen minutes of bathroom can give a person on a grey Monday morning. Last week's nice weather seems to have disappeared completely, and it seems to start raining every other five minutes.

In English, we are handed out all the requirements for our exams. It all looks fairly easy, and I've read all of the books we have to know inside out more than once, so it should be fine.

Maths…actually doesn't look too bad. One of my New Year's resolutions was to really pay attention in class, and it seems to have paid off. All of the units we'd covered and started revising are on here, and I seem to know what to do with them.

After we've gone through the sheet, Mr Rotchford hands out practice exams for us to do in class and as homework before next lesson. Which is tomorrow, and this is three hours worth of math problems.

By fifth period, when we're shuffling into Lilith's room, we've got four hours of homework for tonight. Which means no private practicing with Edward. He comes up to me, and points this out.

'I know,' I say. 'Looks like the next chance will be the weekend.'

He frowns. Obviously he doesn't want to mix work with fun, and doesn't want to spend our date talking about the concert.

We all sit in our pairs in class as Lilith hands out yet another sheet on requirements and assessment. It seems to be exam preparation montage day among the teachers.

'You will be marked on three different altitudes,' she begins. Altitudes? Never heard that one before. 'Firstly, your creativity. How you've made the dance your own and poured yourselves into it.'

Mike sniggers at the corny sentence, but is then shut up by a dead look from Lilith.

'Just make sure the dance is you. About you, obviously about you. Next, you will be assessed on precision and technique. The refined quality of your routine. The amount of practice you put in. Okay?'

Everyone nods, knowing that mark will be rather hefty and crucial. 'The third mark will be your percentage of how you and your performance compare to all the other students dancing. It is the same for those in the music stream. So remember: Creativity and personality; Technique and precision - another thing that comes under that is how well you use the skills you've developed over your time here, so be sure to include things from all of the basic modules we've done. They're listed there on your sheet. And lastly, remember to be competitive. This is the score the contactors are looking for the most. They don't care if you're not 100% on your footwork. They're taking you to their various schools so you can learn that stuff. The only thing they need to be sure of is that you're the best, and they're not missing out on someone who could be a star. But to get the best mark there you have to have excellent technique and creativity, and those two parts will be marked by all the school's dance teachers. So it's one big circle, really.'

Everyone sits there, taking in the speech for a minute, before Lauren puts her hand up. 'Can you tell us the schools that the contractors will be from?'

Everyone pretty much groans the word "typical" while she sits there patiently.

'Er, I'm not meant to, but I will. We've got the London Dance Academy looking for one scholarship student. The New York Dance Company want one also. Those are the two big ones. Then there are several places for the Sydney and Paris Institutes, but those aren't as large scholarships, and aren't usually regarded as seriously. But they are still excellent opportunities for any one of you, if you are asked. But remember: these spots aren't dedicated solely to this school. If they don't find the "wow" factor here, there are plenty of school across the country to choose from. You've got to earn your spot. Any more questions?'

Everyone shakes their head quietly. Next to me, I see Edward looking concerned. He's stressing over the spots. As am I.

For most couples, it's still brainstorming time. Edward extends a hand for me, and pulls me up, whispering in my ear, 'I've got an idea,' as if he were an eighteenth century thief.

We go over to Lilith, who is choosing a track to play while we work. 'Hey guys. What can I do for you?' she asks with her back turned to us. She puts on some familiar old Radiohead before turning around.

'Could we do our maths homework now, so we can have the studio for practice after class?' Edward asks.

'Yeah, go ahead. Just tell the others you're off practicing or something with your music and you don't want them to hear or whatever.' She is immediately relaxed as soon as she's not addressing the class formally. 'Can I trust you two not to do anything silly in your dorms?'

'Yes,' I say.

'Yeah,' Edward says.

'Okay then. Hurry, and be back before the end of the lesson okay? I've got some stuff to do so I need to give you the keys then.' Edward and I nod before hurrying off.

We get some weird looks from the groundskeepers, obviously not sure why we're out of class. We arrive at Edward's dorm after a short trip to mine to get my bag of homework I dumped during lunch. He offers me drinks and nibblies, and after a glass of water we get straight down to business.

I think we both really want to fool around and do silly things we shouldn't do at two-thirty on a Monday afternoon while everyone else is in class, but we need to get all this done so we can spend four hours practicing the dance rather than our number skills.

With twenty minutes before we have to be downstairs, Edward gives up, and heads to his computer. The school website has all the answers to the practice exams we do in case we don't have time to correct them in class, so Edward starts reading answers to me, and I circle those multiple choice like a machine and write down every answer exactly as he says before he writes down all the ones he'd told me.

We both make sure we slip up every once in a while, by one or two, and decide that if he asks why no working out is here, it's been done on another bit of paper we chucked. Of course he'll give the 'in exams you must show working out' speech, but that's even if he asks for them to be handed in. He'll probably just read out a string of multiple choice letters, then tell us to check our answers as homework.

We're going to get at least five of these practice exams and I make a promise to myself that I will complete one with no help from sources other than my brain.

By the time we've finished with that, we still have ten minutes left before we have to go down. I shove my books in my bag, and Edward comes to sit next to me on the couch. He picks up my hand and starts drumming on it, like my fingers are the keys to his piano.

He leans in closer and puts his arms around my waist, and his face next to mine. 'I don't want to go back down there,' he whispers. I know exactly what he means. I'm perfectly happy now, and can't bear the prospect of moving.

Before I can think of something to respond with, his lips are on mine. He's gentle at first, but then something comes over us, and we kind of lose the plot a bit.

We slide down from our sitting positions, and he's on top of me in no time. My hands find themselves crawling under his T-shirt and tearing it off him, then exploring every part of his chest. He's muscly –well, we all are here, but like, really quite muscly. He pulls my cardigan off and then un-buttons my shirt. His hands go to my shoulders and work their way slowly – painstakingly slowly – down.

When he reaches my abdomen, I'm pretty much squirming under his touch, panting heavily. His hands fiddle with the waistband of my leggings, and I desperately want him to go further, but then the school bell rings, completely ruining the mood that we had created and majorly bursting our bubble.

We hear the rush of kids streaming into their dorms around us, and pry ourselves off each other. He pulls his T-shirt back on and tries to manually comb through his hair, while I button up my blouse and replace my cardigan.

He looks at me and smiles. I imagine I look just as flustered as he does, so I get up and also attempt to comb through my hair looking in a mirror on his door. When it refuses to cooperate, I scour through my bag for a hair tie and pull it all into a bun on the top of my head.

I hope Lilith thinks this is to keep my hair out of my eyes, but as we walk into the studio, and she's the only one there, I can see she sees our cheeks are too red to have just run down the stairs.

'Sorry we're late,' I say.

'Maths?' she asks lazily from her desk where she is searching through papers and blank discs with titles. She knows; I can tell.

'Yeah. We got it done, though.'

'Great. All the more time practicing for this.' She fiddles around a bit more before pulling out a stapled mess of paper and two DVDs.

'Here, guys. That's the only other time we had couples performing. 1989. Don't bother with all of them, just look at the ones I've put in the details for. Here's the DVD player, so you guys can work that out. I just think you should watch those before you begin choreographing. Especially the last. Here are the keys. Lock up when you're done and drop them off to me in the staffroom, kay?'

We nod, and she says bye and clears out. We both immediately cross to the DVD player, and Edward puts the disc in while I stand there watching. He sits on Lilith's swivel chair and forwards to the first dance we have to watch.

'Bella,' he says, patting his lap. I smile and go sit on him.

The dance is called Sunset of the Moons, and was performed by two kids called Roger Timothy and Gezette Winston. She is a twig, really, and he is a big strong muscle man. But they look like they're in love. They jump and twist as lovers would, and the dance is so in unison in some parts that you think they have a sort of telepathic communication. The music is some old piece that for me is nameless, but the amount of times they would have heard it in practice makes me feel familiar with it.

The lights go down and the audience is standing, applauding massively. The camera closes in on a lady who can only be Gezette's mother and next to her, a tall man with the exact same hair as Gezette. As the camera pans across to the next two seats, we see a robust couple that obviously are Roger's parents. They're hugging and crying, certain that this will get their kids a contract. The camera, ever-knowing, cuts to the balcony where about eight or so men and women, dressed in formal black, are standing clapping, whispering in each others' ears. The audience sedates, and the music to the next dance starts, and in the five seconds we see before Edward pauses it, we know that Gezette and Roger's dance was a standout.

Edward reads from the top of three pages she'd stapled and given us. 'Gezette Winston and Roger Timothy. Sunset of the Moons, 1989. After the performance, Gezette was offered a place at The London Dance Academy, as was Roger. They trained there for five years, and were the leads in their last performance with the Academy, Swan Lake, and over their time in London developed a steady relationship. They both then moved on to New York, where after another five years of tuition at the Dance Academy there, they got married.

'Gezette studied for a teaching degree, and is now a full time teacher at The London Dance Academy, where she had begun her tertiary training. After he finished his training in New York, Roger moved back to London so he could be with Gezette while she taught, and decided to teach as well. He is now Director of Dance there. Both have done extremely well there, earning high places in the hierarchy of the school.'

'Wow,' I say. 'What a fairytale life.'

'Mm.' We both sit for a minute, and I'm imagining that life, but replacing Roger and Gezette with Edward and I. Because that's pretty much all I've ever wanted, written down on that bin of paper in Lilith's curly handwriting.

'Next one?' Edward proposes, breaking me out of my imagination montage.

I nod, still mentally drooling over the prospect of that life and story.

This one is called Roses for Sand, and I can kind of see why. The girl, Natalia, has the rosiest complexion, and I'm fairly sure it's been enhanced by blush and white powder. And the boy, Jeremiah, has a yellowy tone. It's obviously a love story, and they were obviously going out at this point in time, because when they finish, she's in his arms, and he leans down and kisses her. It has to be the most romantic public display of affection I've ever seen. I sigh in content on Edward's lap, once again imagining us in the places of the pair on stage. He puts his arms around me, and I lean into his chest.

'That's so gorgeous,' I comment.

'I wonder what the contractors thought of it,' Edward muses. I realize what he is getting at: could Jeremiah's lack of discipline put the officials off offering him the scholarship? The camera leaves the stage to cut to the parents, then up to the officials. It seems pretty half and half: they're all clapping, but the three women and one man are applauding with corny smiles, while four men have stony faced expressions, obviously not amused.

Edward pauses it, and reads from the second sheet. 'Natalia Dezclavio and Jeremiah Bullson. Roses for Sand, 1989. Natalia and Jeremiah were at this stage a couple, and tried to incorporate this in the dance. But some of the contractors weren't impressed with what he did at the end. It was, of course, an amazing dance, and both had earned places at various schools, but it was decided that it would benefit their careers if they weren't placed together. So Natalia got the one place in New York that was being offered, and Jeremiah went to Sydney. Their relationship suffered over long distance, and was eventually severed.

'In New York, Natalia flourished under the strict regime. She was a consistent student, and was dux of her year several times. During her time at our school, she was predominantly a classical ballet student, but the diverse range of subjects and cultures on offer for her in New York opened her mind to newer concepts. She became intrigued by world dances, and after she finished at the New York Academy, she opened up a dance school of her own for children up to the age of eighteen. It wasn't an academy, but a school that children came to have lessons at for an hour a week, after school or on weekends, in the genres of Classical, Creative and International; those being the three she was trained for. As her school gained status and reputation, it grew and Natalia was able to hire more teachers and thus expand the range on offer at the school. The Dezclavio School of Dance is still operating in the City, now with three different bases throughout the city. Natalia is principal of the school still, and now lives with her new husband Michael and two teenage daughters, Robyn and Esther, in New York. Robyn and Esther both attend the school twice a week, and have won many awards for their dancing. Natalia offers free programs to disadvantaged and homeless children, and has earned several citizen awards for her acts of kindness.

'Jeremiah went to Sydney, and did well there until Natalia broke their relationship off. He went in a downward spiral, getting involved with drugs and alcohol, and was eventually expelled from the Institute. He sobered up and went to the Sydney University in his late twenties, and studied the History of Dance. He went on to write a book about the lives of ballet dancers in strict Schools, which included things like dancers whose toes get torn to shreds by the wooden point in their slippers; and girls who are forced to be stick-thin to keep their place in the School. This book helped raise awareness of these issues, and now they were addressed. Jeremiah died in 2000 in a tragic car accident, and Natalia attended his funeral.'

'Wow. That's quite a story. For the both of them,' I say.

'Yeah. Wow.' He nods in agreement.

'Is that it?'

'Um, yeah. Now it's up to us.'

I stand up off Edward, adjusting my dancing leggings and crossing to my bag. I pull out the CD we'd made, and put it in the stereo while Edward packed away the DVD.

When he's done, I press play.

'How do you usually choreograph?' he asks.

'I move around. And if I do something I like, I keep it. You?'

'Same,' he says.

And so we do. He lifts me up, and we work on lifts and jumps with our song on repeat, and in two hours time we've come up with a basic out line for the first minute of our three or four minute dance.

When we finish up, we are both extremely red in the face, and I can see he's had it worse than me – while I've pretty much only had to concentrate on holding my body rigid while in the air, he's had to concentrate on not dropping me, and moving with me in the air.

His arms must be aching from all the weight and tension. I grab my drink bottle and take a chug and squirt my face before I hand it to him. He drains it in a couple of seconds. 'Hard work, hey?' I ask, and he nods. 'Aw, diddums. Come here.' I open my arms to him, and he comes over and hugs me, pulling me into a bear hug. He spins us around, and my feet lose contact with the floor. 'Ah!' I scream.

He puts me down and we're both laughing hysterically and panting with exhaustion. He crawls over to me from the place he collapsed a couple metres away and starts tickling me. 'Ah!' I squeal again, writhing around his tickling fingers. 'Stop it!'

He doesn't. Until, that is, he collapses from heat and tire. It's my time to strike.

'Oh!' he screams when I pounce on him, tickling under his neck. He wriggles for a minute, then stops, and simply looks at me. My fingers stop, and only then do I realise I'm straddling him, and our faces are only so far apart. Well, far probably isn't the best word. His neck pulls his head up, and closes the miniscule distance between our lips.

His arms close around me, and we stay like that for who knows how long. All I know is that it's a bit too long, because it was light when we started and now it's twilight, but he feels too good to stop. He unceremoniously rolls me under him, just after he does, the doors to the studio open.

Busted.

Lilith steps in. 'Shit,' I whisper to Edward, who has already rolled off me and is, too, breathless and red-faced.

'How's the dance coming along?' Lilith asks. I can see she's trying to look professional and scolding, but her joy in seeing me with the boy I'd professed my feelings about to her so many times is so utterly evident in her smile.

I sit up. 'Fine,' I breathe. 'We can show you.'

'In a minute,' Edward conditions. I nod in agreement.

Lilith sits down next to us. 'Look, guys, I know you're hormonal and all that, but this is a fairly public place. It's still school business hours on a Monday right now. The Headmaster or Mrs Dantine could have walked in giving someone a tour. They're both very stressed at the moment with exams coming up, and they're trying to secure spots for our students from the contractors. He's retiring at the end of this year and has just found masses of overdue, unfinished paperwork, so I assure you, if he or she had found you, you would be gone. You'd have to do the same as Angela and Eric. Okay?

'I don't mind this kind of stuff, as long as one: you do it in a more appropriate place, two: you don't go too far, and three: you don't leave signs of it around everywhere for people to catch onto like I did today. Yep? That's the reason I came down here in the first place. Also, I need my keys to get into my room. I've been hanging out in the staffroom all night and people got suspicious when I just didn't leave.' The both of us nod shamefully. 'Alright. Now get out of here. Did you watch the DVD?'

'Yeah. It was good. The dances were amazing. And the info about them,' I say.

'Mm. Tell me when you figure out the message of that, guys.' With that, Lilith locks the door behind her and leaves, leaving Edward and I staring after her.

What the hell did she mean?

There it is! Who can guess what she means? There will be a prize of some description for the person/people who does/do. Remeber to press the lil green button down there, won't you? Rose xxx