The practice room was nearly empty, its mirrors reflecting the soft glow of the overhead lights. Sweat dotted Daniela’s forehead as she finished the last eight counts of choreography, her movements sharp yet graceful.

Breathing heavily, she dropped to the floor, grabbing her water bottle and taking a long sip.

“Ugh,”

she groaned, flopping onto her back, “if I have to hear this song one more time, I might actually scream.”

From the corner of her eye, she noticed movement at the door. Blinking, she propped herself up on her elbows.

“oh It’s you,” Daniela said, a tired but warm smile spreading across her face. She patted the floor beside her.

“Come on in—I promise I don’t bite.”

She tilted her head, eyes sparkling with playful mischief.

“Actually… maybe I do. Depends on how brave you are.” She laughed at her own joke, pushing her hair out of her face.

“Seriously though,”

she continued.

“what are you doing here so late? Don’t tell me you came to spy on my terrible dancing.”