୨⎯ Dance teacher ⎯୧

Chapter 16

An: new rule this means thoughts

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In the tense silence that enveloped us, each passing second felt like an eternity, stretching out as if time itself had slowed down. The rhythmic ticking of the clock reverberated through the room, serving as a constant reminder of the palpable tension lingering between us.

My senses were heightened, attuned to every subtle change in the atmosphere. Each breath I took seemed to elongate the intervals between the ticks of the clock, and with every inhale, the movement of the hour hand appeared sluggish, as if reluctant to progress to the next number on the dial.

The warmth of his hands as they encircled my hips sent a shiver down my spine, a stark contrast to the coolness of the room. His touch was deliberate and gentle, exploring every inch of bare skin with meticulous care, evoking a whirlwind of emotions within me.

Amidst the heavy panting that filled the room, echoing off the walls of the empty hallway outside, the only other occupants were a solitary potted plant, a vibrant red rug, and two paintings adorning the walls—a silent witness to the charged atmosphere between us.

From a scientific standpoint, the surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins was a primal response to the perceived threat of the situation.

It heightened my senses, sharpening my awareness and temporarily dulling any pain that threatened to overwhelm me. Yet, in that moment, it felt more like a burden than a boon.

Every sound in the room seemed amplified, grating against my nerves and intensifying the overwhelming sensation of being on edge.

From the squeak of his shoes to the subtle crackle of his bones, each noise seemed to pierce through the thick silence with unnerving clarity.

"shit." he muttered under his breath, he tickled my nose with the scent of his skin—a potent mix of sweat and anticipation that served as a visceral reminder of the precariousness of our situation, a moment that should have never come to pass.

It took me a few precious moments to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation, but in that suspended reality, it felt like an eternity.

My feeble attempts to push him away were met with little success, lacking both strength and conviction.

As minho stepped back, the warmth of his touch was replaced by an icy void that left me reeling.

Our eyes locked in an intense gaze, and in that fleeting moment, I glimpsed a fire burning within him—an intensity that threatened to consume us both.

Of all the possible outcomes, the probability of this kiss was infinitesimally small—a mere fraction of a percentage point amidst a sea of infinite possibilities. And yet, here we were, caught in a moment that defied all logic and reason.

But as the saying goes, never say never. In the blink of an eye, the impossible can become reality, and the unthinkable can become truth.

Minho's dark brown eyes bore into mine, penetrating flesh and soul with a sharpness that rivaled any blade. What did he and a knife have in common? Both had the potential to leave me wounded, bleeding to the core.

With each passing moment, my vision blurred, and my body moved of its own accord, propelling me away from him and towards the elevator. I felt dizzy, overwhelmed by the lingering taste of him—earthy and intoxicating—as it danced upon my lips.

I sensed his gaze trailing me as I went to the elevator, his silent pursuit palpable even in my absence.

Yet, I refused to succumb to the urge to look back—not solely because of who he was, but because I kissed him back, without hesitation.