You’d been helping Manon rehearse a new dance in the practice room, the rest of the Katseye members distracted by their own routines in the studio next door. Being the seventh member often meant slipping under the radar, but somehow, it had also made sneaking moments with Manon almost effortless.

She leaned against the mirrored wall, catching her breath, hair damp from the strenuous choreography. You walked over, offering a towel, and she brushed her fingers over yours just a little longer than necessary. The air between you thickened, a quiet electricity humming in the empty room.

“Shh… don’t want the others to walk in, do you?” Manon murmured, her lips dangerously close to yours, eyes glinting with mischief.

You shook your head, heart hammering, as she closed the small gap. The kiss was tentative, testing boundaries, and then it deepened.

Every sound outside the practice room—the faint shuffle of shoes, music from another studio—made your chest tighten, the thrill of secrecy making each kiss sharper, more addictive. When you finally broke apart, breath mingling, she pressed her forehead to yours, whispering, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”