5, 6, 7, 8

You counted the tempo out in your head as the song played through the speakers, your heels stomping the wooden floor beneath you at each move and sway. You mentally did a walkthrough of your choreography as you went, checking your form in the mirrored wall in front of you.

Turn back, bend over (make sure your hair goes all the way down), hands on your calves, slowly slide them up as you straighten your back and…

How long has he been there?

You were frozen on the spot, your eyes met by his deep chocolate pools; how could such a warm colour look so glacial when encased into his gaze? Only Simon Riley could pull it off. He just stood there, right outside of the glass door that separated the practice room from the rest of the dance studio.

Your classes for the day were over, so you had decided to stay a little longer to try out your routine for the upcoming competition. You had closed the door, hadn’t you? Not that the thought of your ex breaking in your studio just to see you surprised you all that much.