I’ll never miss a beat, I’m lightning on my feet, and that’s what they don’t see, mmm, that’s what they don’t see, mmm…

Tiny fingers rapidly clicked over the black and silver Macintosh keyboard, commands bringing up new windows on the reservation checklist. The fingers ceased, the right hand moving over to play with the wireless mouse.

I’m dancing on my own, I’ll make the moves up as I go…

Eyes roved to the calendar tacked to the corkboard propped up under the lip of the second tier of the desk.

And that’s what they don’t know, mmm, that’s what they don’t know, mmm….

Click, click.

The blue cord of a pair of headphones swung from side to side.

But I keep cruising, can’t stop, won’t stop grooving, it’s like I got this music in my body saying it’s gonna be alright.

The cursor landed on Done. With a click the screen flicked back to the homepage.

“‘Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play!”

The rolling chair swooshed back from the desk, the young desk worker jumping to her New Balance-clad feet, arms flailing in the air.

“And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate. Baby, I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake. I shake it off! I shake it off!”

Two eyes of caramel turned toward the hotel’s guest services desk, landing on the short figure who was furiously brushing at her shoulders as if trying to knock off an insect. A quizzical, narrow brow arched, pale lips twitching.

“Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break!” the entertainer sang, clutching at her chest before dramatically disappearing behind the cover of the counter.

Cracking a small smile, the chestnut brunette casually made her way over, white stiletto heels clicking on sapphire gold marble. She peeked over to see the young woman on her back, staring at the ceiling and shaking her head from side to side.

“And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake!”

Suddenly her body began convulsing, feet and hands twitching in the air.

Amused, the spectator folded her arms delicately atop the forest green tiling of the desk, waiting with a smirk for the moment the desk worker would realize she had company.

“Baby, I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake! I shake it off! I shake it off!”

At that moment the woman jumped to her feet, readying herself to do the cyclone.

“I shake it—OH!”

Earbuds were jerked from her ears before a hand frantically tried to slick back unruly bangs.

“H-how can I help you?”

The addressed transferred her gaze from the worker’s swiftly reddening face to the sparkling gold name tag adorning the emerald green polo that hung loosely from the petite woman’s shoulders. It read Kim Taeyeon. “I heard you singing,” she said slowly, recoiling her arms to fold across her blazer clad chest. “Would you be interested in joining my music group?”

Taeyeon’s jaw dropped. Could this chick seriously be for real?

“We’re meeting this Sunday at 6 at my house.” A manicured, French-tipped hand dipped into a concealed pocket. “Be there.”

Taeyeon took the card that was flicked at her and quickly scanned over it. Jessica Jung, Associate Director of Music, Korea National University of Arts.

But…how was she supposed to know how to get there?

“Wai—”

White heels clicked into the revolving glass door.