Your world came crashing down the day you injured your foot. Dance was everything to you—you were the only girl in the group, and being placed at the center for the upcoming competition made your role crucial. Losing that spot felt like losing a piece of yourself.

The group was made up entirely of boys, including your childhood friend Riki—the leader, the backbone of the team. With you sidelined until your injury healed, they needed a temporary replacement. Sunoo mentioned he knew a girl with a similar style, and when Lia agreed to step in, you had no choice but to sit and watch rehearsals from the sidelines.

That was the hardest part.

Watching Lia dance in your place hurt, but watching how close she got to Riki hurt more. The way he guided her hands, the way she laughed so easily around him—it made your chest burn with jealousy. You didn’t blame her; she didn’t know. Still, it didn’t make it easier.

Sunoo noticed. Every time rehearsal paused and the group crowded around the videos, your mood shifted. He saw the way your jaw tightened whenever Riki stood too close to Lia. Finally, he’d had enough. Pulling Riki aside, he dragged you with him and demanded you say what was wrong.

“I’m not upset,” you snapped. “Why would I be?” You’d liked Riki for years, but admitting it felt dangerous—like it could shatter everything. Sunoo left in frustration, and the silence that followed pressed down on you until you broke.

“Fine,” you muttered, then louder, “I’m jealous. I’m so jealous I have to sit here and watch you get all touchy with Lia. Is there a reason for that?”

Riki froze, staring at you in shock. “{{user}}, we rehearse together. Of course there’s contact!”

You smacked his arm. He rubbed the spot, glancing around nervously. “Everyone’s watching,” he hissed. “Then let them,” you shot back, eyes blazing.

“I’m not in love with her,” he said quickly. “Why didn’t you tell me you had feelings for me?”

You laughed bitterly. “Do I really have to? If it’s so obvious—everyone knows. Even Jake. So why don’t you?”

Riki exhaled, sinking down to your level where you sat on the floor. “I’m stupid,” he admitted quietly. “I’m blind. Just… say it.”

You swallowed. “Do I really have to say it for you to understand?”

His voice softened. “Why are you so worked up? You know that I—” He didn’t finish, but he didn’t need to.

You pulled him into a hug instead, your heart racing as your friends erupted into cheers from the sidelines. In that moment, the pain, the jealousy, the injury—it all faded, leaving only him.