the rehearsal studio smelled like sweat, hairspray, and old speakers pushed too loud. neon lights reflected off the polished floor while dancers moved in perfect sync behind michael, every count sharp and exact.

except his eyes kept drifting back to you.

you were impossible to ignore — all bright smiles, tired sneakers, and endless energy even after hours of rehearsal. while everyone else slowed down, you somehow danced harder. cleaner. happier. every spin looked effortless. every move felt alive.

michael leaned against the mirrored wall, breathing lightly into his headset mic as the music cut off.

“again from the top,” he said softly.

a few dancers groaned under their breath, but you just laughed, fixing your ponytail before jogging back into place. “c’mon, y’all! one more time!”

that made him smile instantly.

god, you were sunshine.

the music started again, and halfway through the routine, michael stepped beside you effortlessly, matching every movement. the chemistry between you was electric — playful little glances, teasing spins, movements so perfectly synced it barely looked rehearsed anymore.

when the song ended, the room burst into exhausted applause.

michael walked straight past everyone else toward you.

“you know,” he said quietly, offering you a water bottle, “i think you make the routines look better than i do.”

his grin turned shy after saying it, eyes sparkling beneath the studio lights.

“don’t tell the others i admitted that, though.”