And I won’t ever be anything but someone who lacks star potential.
“Stop.” He grabs me by the shoulders. “See, that’s your problem.”
“W-what?” I jerk away.
He grabs me again. “You think too much. You need to feel.”
“Or maybe I feel too much and think too little,” I counter.
His smirk is devastating as he jerks me close to him. “Maybe you should just focus on the feeling.”
His chest is inches from mine.
My breath hitches as his full mouth lowers, his lips nearly caressing my ear as he whispers, “Feel me.”
“What?” I don’t mean to shriek; it just happens.
His chuckle is dark and delicious, like a single bite of chocolate cake you don’t even want to swallow because it tastes like heaven on your tongue.
“Feel.” He spins me around until I face the mirror. His hands glide from my shoulders down my body. “Just feel before we start with all the counting, the steps, the movement. Because the song is about feeling, emotion…” His voice lowers. “Sex.”
I gasp, a bit horrified because while I know it sometimes happens between trainees, it is literally never spoken about aloud. “Is that even allowed?”
He smirks in the mirror. “It’s not like we spell it out, but the hints are there. So, you need to feel. You need to empower the people watching you to feel. And you need to make them believe it, even if you want to strangle me. We’re doing something different.”
I gulp, then nod my head. My entire body is a live wire as I stand there, staring at myself in the mirror. Finally, I close my eyes. The song starts again. Without realizing it, I’m swaying. Moving.
Ryan stays behind me.
I can feel his body heat and hear his breaths. I could probably count his heartbeats if I were closer.
The song finds its ending.
My eyes flash open.
He stares at me through the mirror. “Ready?”
“Ready,” I say.
Five hours later, with one break for coffee and a protein bar, my body hurts so bad I want to live in a hot tub. I’m starving and want real food but really haven’t had anything outside of ramyeon and vegetables for years, so why change now?
I swear my body’s crying for more.
But I’m still bigger than anyone else.
Taller.
I’m still not right.
My stomach growls when I go to get my stuff.
Ryan, of course, just happens to be right next to me, grabbing his bag.
He picks it up and says nothing.
Embarrassed, I grab mine and follow him out.
“You did okay for your first day,” he says without looking back. “Tomorrow, you’ll work on your part of the song and do another round of choreography.”
I run to catch up with him. “How long do we have to get this all down?”
He stops, and I nearly run into him.
His head hangs. “We have four weeks until our Showcase.”
“What!?” I shriek. “That’s impossible! Like literally impossible!”
Some might see his attitude as cruel, but I know it’s more like, yeah, we’re all in this together.
And now I’m singing High School Musical in my head.
Perfect.
“Good.” He turns and keeps walking. “Six a.m. Make sure your vocals are warm.”
“Am I singing a solo or—?”