The bustling market in Seoul was alive with colors, smells, and the hum of activity. Miami and I wandered through the stalls, occasionally stopping to admire trinkets or sample some street food. It was a welcome break from school stress, and honestly, I was enjoying myself more than I thought I would.
As we turned a corner, the sound of upbeat music filled the air, and my eyes were drawn to a small crowd gathered in the plaza. A group of performers was dancing and singing with synchronized energy that could rival any K-pop idol group. They were magnetic, their moves sharp and their voices blending perfectly with the music.
"Whoa," Miami said, nudging me. "They're good."
"Yeah, really good," I agreed, unable to take my eyes off them.
We stood there for a while, watching them perform. They exuded confidence and charisma, and I felt a familiar itch in my chest—the longing to be in the spotlight, to let loose and perform.
As if reading my mind, one of the performers caught my eye. A mischievous grin spread across his face, and before I could react, he stepped forward, grabbed my hand, and pulled me into the middle of the plaza.
"Wait, no!" I protested, my cheeks burning.
"Come on!" he said, his accent clear but his energy infectious. "You look like you want to!"
I froze for a second, feeling the weight of all the eyes on me. But then the music pulled me in, and my body moved almost on instinct. I found myself mimicking their choreography with ease, my movements flowing naturally as if I'd practiced it a hundred times.
The crowd cheered, their energy feeding into mine. Miami, of course, was no help—she was already recording everything on her phone, laughing and shouting encouragement.
"You're killing it, Clover!" she yelled.
The group of performers welcomed me as if I were one of them, matching my pace and even hyping me up. I twirled, flipped my hair, and hit every beat like I belonged there. My heart raced, not from nerves, but from pure exhilaration.
Then, mid-spin, I caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd.
Tris.
He was leaning casually against a lamppost, his arms crossed, watching me with a faint smile. His expression was soft, almost...proud?
I didn't know why, but the sight of him there made my heart skip. Before I could stop myself, I smiled back at him—a genuine, unguarded smile.
And for the first time in days, everything else faded away. It was just me, the music, and him.
Before I knew it, my adrenaline was doing the thinking for me. The music, the crowd, the energy—I couldn't resist. I turned toward the crowd and saw Tris still standing there, watching with that soft, amused smile that somehow made my heart flutter.
Without thinking, I marched toward him, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into the center of the performance.
"Clover, what—" he started, but I didn't let him finish.
"Come on! You're not just going to stand there, are you?" I challenged, flashing him a grin.
The performers around us whooped and made room for him, encouraging him to join in. For a split second, Tris looked like he might resist, but then he smirked, rolled his shoulders, and stepped into the groove of the music.
I didn't know what I was expecting—maybe some awkward, stiff moves—but what I got was entirely different.
Tris was good.
Like, really good.
He moved with an ease and rhythm that stunned not just me but everyone else watching. His steps were sharp, his transitions smooth, and the confidence in his movements rivaled that of the performers who'd been at it all day.
"You've been hiding this?" I shouted over the music, a mix of shock and admiration in my voice.
He just shrugged mid-step, the smirk still on his face. "You never asked."
The crowd was eating it up, cheering louder as Tris and I danced together. Our movements synced effortlessly, as if we'd rehearsed for weeks. It was exhilarating, the way we fed off each other's energy, building up to the music's crescendo.
Then, as the final beat hit, we struck a pose—completely unplanned but somehow perfect. Tris spun me into him, and we froze in a dramatic dip, my face inches from his.
For a heartbeat, the world went silent.
His eyes locked on mine, and I could feel his breath against my lips. My heart raced, not just from the dancing but from the tension crackling between us.
The crowd erupted in applause, snapping us back to reality. Tris broke the moment first, pulling me upright and stepping back as if the closeness hadn't affected him.
"Why are we both in Music Performance again?" he asked, a teasing edge to his voice. "You're an incredible dancer, Clover."
I blinked, still catching my breath. "What about you? Where did that come from?"
He shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Maybe I'm multi-talented."
The idea hit me like a spark. "You know, maybe we're in the wrong track."
Tris raised an eyebrow.
"I mean it," I said, my excitement building. "What if we shifted to Performing Arts? It's not too late, right? If we're both this good at dancing, maybe this is where we're meant to be."
For a moment, Tris just stared at me, like he was trying to figure out if I was serious. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Why not? Could be fun."
I grinned, my heart pounding with the thrill of the idea. "Then let's do it. Take the leap."
And just like that, we sealed the moment with a silent agreement, two people ready to chase something new—together.