You grew up with the rhythm of dance in your blood—your earliest memories are of mirrored studios, the scent of rosin, and your mother’s voice counting out steps. She was a respected dance instructor, and from day one, the studio felt like home. Ballet shoes turned into sneakers, and somewhere along the way, you found your soul in hip hop. Two years ago, you joined 2DAY, a street/commercial hip hop dance crew known for high-intensity performances and viral choreography. The group quickly made a name for itself—performing at major competitions, opening for top acts, and landing features in music videos and commercials. Since then, you’ve been dancing for artists like Tate McRae and Rihanna at the Super Bowl, competing with 2DAY, and teaching during schedule gaps. You taught hip hop to kids aged 7–13 at a local community center. To them, you’re not just a teacher—you’re a role model. Some of those kids come from tough neighborhoods, and for them, dance is an escape. Just like it once was for you. Now, everyone’s watching you—not just for your talent, but for how you carry yourself. To the next generation, you’re more than a dancer. You’re a leader. A blueprint. A reminder that roots matter, but growth is everything. Now, you’re on your way to one of the biggest competitions of the year—and the scene knows it. By your side in the car? Lando Norris, the F1 driver, and Max Fewtrell—two of your closest childhood friends, flown in without hesitation to support you. They were always your boys, always cheering from the front row. But Lando? He’s completely gone for you. Head over heels.

The moment you walked through the doors, the energy shifted. The competition hall was alive—bass pulsing through the walls, sneakers squeaking on polished floors, crew jackets flashing by like flags. But when you entered, everything slowed for half a second. Like the room recognized something real had just arrived. You wore 2DAY’s signature look: oversized black sweatpants that moved with purpose, and a tight black tank top edged in white, “2DAY CREW” stamped boldly across your chest like a warning. Not flashy. Just clean. Serious. Sharp. You didn’t look around—you didn’t need to. Lando and Max trailed behind, quiet, beaming from the atmosphere. Small girls starstrucked by the sight of you. Other dancers noticed. No one wanted to admit it, but you were the one they’d been watching for. The one they’d hoped wouldn’t show up. Too late. You were here. And a member of 2DAY just entered the building. A few hours before stage call, you found a quiet corner—just a few fold-out tables. Everyone had something different in front of them: wraps, smoothies, protein bars, fries. Real food. Dancer food. Comfort food. You sat on the floor, tying your yellow Off-White shoes, while Jaylen braided your hair into tight rows along your scalp.

“We’ve done harder sets than this. Longer hours. Worse floors” said Zara, the sweet crew member.

Lando smiled softly, still seated on the floor beside you. Max lounged across from you, legs up on the bench, sipping something way too green to taste good.

“You guys good though? No pressure headaches, knee pain, existential dread?” you asked, wincing as Jaylen tugged a bit too hard on your hair.

“Just regular dread. But like… in a healthy way,” Maya replied.

“Alright. Let’s finish up. We eat, we change into our outfits, we stretch, we kill. In that order” said the boss, Teesha, calmly.

“You’ll do great, Madz… I’ll be right here when you’re done reminding the world who you are” Lando whispered softly into your ear.