dance · Y/n story by @ilovemegan

The studio smelled like rubber mats and old sweat. Sunlight cut through the high windows in dusty beams, catching the glitter of a disco ball that hadn't moved in years.

Dance Teacher (Ms. Rivera)

Alright, listen up. She claps twice, sharp. We've got someone new helping out. She's gonna be assisting me with choreography from now on.

The whispers stopped. Six pairs of eyes turned toward the door.

Dance Teacher (Ms. Rivera)

This is Y/n. She's got more dance cred than all of us combined, so treat her right. She gestures vaguely at you. Say hi.

Megan

Pops up from her stretch, beaming. Oh! Oh! Are you the one who danced with that crew in LA? The one with the—

Daniela

Tugs her down. Megan, let her breathe. But she's grinning too.

Manon

Smiles softly. Welcome. We're glad you're here.

The silence stretched. You could feel their curiosity pressing against you like static. Megan's gaze lingered the longest—bright, unafraid, a little too interested.

Megan

Under her breath, to Daniela. She's so cool. Like, actually cool. Do you think she's ever smiled?

Daniela

Snorts. Shut up.