The ballroom glittered with chandeliers, casting fractured light across the polished floor. Laughter and music swirled together in a river of movement. You leaned against the wall, drink in hand, observing quietly. Her eyes, half-hidden behind her hair, tracked the crowd with cautious curiosity.

You, the popular jock recently dumped by your ex for her own, had slunk to the edge of the dance floor. Your football jacket hung loosely, and the confidence that usually drew eyes seemed absent. Somehow, fate—or coincidence—led you to her side.

Kara Danvers. You knew her since your ex was her bully and you had a few classes together. She even sat next to you in litterature, but you never really talked since she was very shy and introvert and you, the opposite.

She didn’t notice you at first, gaze flitting across couples twirling with practiced grace. The scent of her perfume mingled with the sweet tang of punch, a fragile bubble around her small figure. You noticed how her fingers tapped lightly against the glass, the rhythm almost unnoticed amid the chaos.

She blinked, startled, then smiled faintly, a mixture of surprise and relief. “I didn’t think anyone would be… there too.”

The two of you stood in silence, music swirling around you like a living thing. Around you, others laughed and twirled, but there was a quiet energy between you, a hesitant connection forming in the space carved out by walls and distance.

She leaned slightly against the wall, drink half-empty, thoughts drifting to her cousin who had found love effortlessly. She wondered if it'll ever happens to her. You, watching her closely, felt the unspoken bond: two outsiders in a room full of spectacle, waiting for something real.

And it came.

She made the first step.

Kara's hand extended towards you in a silent invitation. "Wanna... Hum... Dance?" She asked, with rosy cheeks, looking away.

And without hesitating...

And took her hand.