After three long years of planning, scheduling, and rescheduling, my two best friends and I finally find ourselves lounging on the warm, sunny beaches of Miami, where the nightlife is hot and the men are even hotter. It's night three of our girls' week out and tonight's itinerary calls for an evening of Latin ballroom dancing at a place aptly called "Del Fuego".

We have just finished eating dinner at a local eatery close to our hotel, and are back in our room to change into something a bit more...dazzling for the night's festivities. "Good Lord, Kang Jae Rin, what on earth is taking you so long?! You are going to make us late for the free lessons that start at 8:30!" a voice scolds me from the other room. "Yeah, hurry up!" another one echoes.

The voices belong to the two people that I hold nearest to my heart, but I can't help but snap back at them, "I would've been done earlier if I didn't have to wait for you two beauty queens to finish with the bathroom first!" I put the finishing touches on my curls and smoky make up before slipping into (what I consider to be) a deceptively flirty dress. The material is skin tight, black lace with red underlay, and it falls mid-thigh and has a boat neckline with long sleeves. It seems very demure, but if you look at me from behind, it is a completely open V that ends at my lower back.

I am met with a combination of wolf whistles and "Finally!"s when I emerge from the bathroom and grab my tiny cross-body evening bag from the sofa. "Alright mamacitas, lets go kill 'em tonight!" I declare.

We arrive just in time for the free lessons and rush to the dance floor as soon as we get there. For half an hour, an instructor stands on the stage and guides us newbies through the basic steps for the salsa, cha cha, rumba, and various other Latin ballroom dances. We start individually, but are then paired up with random partners, switching every minute or so. There are probably 15 other people participating in the lessons with us, with the obviously more veteran dancers standing along the side and watching.

Before we know it, the half hour lesson is up and we are let loose to set the dance floor on fire. My BFFs and I immediately make a beeline for the bartender, needing some liquid courage before we will be confident enough to show off our newly acquired moves. With drinks in hand, we manage to secure a tiny high-top table right off the edge of the dance floor that is barely large enough to hold our three martini glasses. Open dance has started (complete with a live band and singer!), and we can't help but to marvel in awe at the veteran couples that are on the floor. There is a wide variety of people out there, from pairs in their mid-twenties like us, to couples in their fifties, who look like they have been together for decades.

"Oh my gosh, look at that old couple!" I point out an adorable pair that is laughing and seem like they are having a grand ole time. "They look like they don't even have to think, and their bodies just know how to move completely in sync."

"It's not fair," one of my friends whines, "look at how her hips move. I can't even do that now and I'm like half her age!" We continue to chat as the night goes on, occasionally venturing out to the floor just to dance with each other, regardless of how goofy or out of place we look. After several fun, upbeat songs, the singer announces, "Ok everyone, grab your lovers and come on out to the floor! We are going to slow it down a little especially for you."

I immediately feel a tap on my shoulder and look up to see the tallest, most smoldering, most attractive man I have ever seen in my life standing in front of me, offering me his hand. "Shall we dance?" he leans in to whisper lowly in my ear in English.

Being the socially awkward person that I am, I squeak in surprise and instinctively reply, "I'm sorry," in Korean. I quickly realize my mistake and can feel the redness spreading across my cheeks, "I, uh, I mean, I'm sorry, I don't really know the steps..."

He retracts his head a bit to look at me directly, eyes sparkling. "It's ok," he assures me in Korean, "because I do." I think I died a little. He takes my glass out of my hand and places it on the table, telling my friends that he will take good care of me before whisking me away to the center of the room. Just in time, the intro to "Sway" ends and the singer starts to croon.

When marimba rhythms start to play, dance with me, make me sway.

Mystery man takes my right hand in his left and pulls my hips into him with his other hand before settling it in the bare expanse between my shoulder blades, in close carriage position. My skin feels like it is on fire where his hand is resting. Thanks to my heels, his mouth is level with my ear if he stoops a little, and I hear his voice above the music, "Don't think about anything, just follow me."

When we dance you have a way with me, stay with me, sway with me.

My first instinct is to try to look at his feet to see what the heck I am supposed to be doing, but his hand comes off my back to tilt my chin up. "Don't look down," he says, "just follow the feeling of my hips." Ha! Like I need him to draw attention to the fact that our bodies are melded together, too close. I am glad he can't see my face, because I am about to die of embarrassment.

He softly whispers the steps to me, guiding me elegantly through the romantic dance. I have danced with other people before, but I have to admit that I am usually resistant to being led. But right now, with him, I have become completely pliable, easily malleable for his experienced hands.

Other dancers may be on the floor, dear but my eyes will see only you.

"Put your hands on my neck," he instructs, as his hands slide to firmly grasp my hips. I pull my head back to face him with wide eyes. "What?!"

"Your hands, my neck," he repeats. I gulp and do as he says, heart palpitating rapidly in my chest. He presses our foreheads together, noses brushing intimately. "Look at me," he breathes, and I feel a flurry in my stomach when our eyes meet. He smiles and I almost stop breathing. Pushing my hips away from his, he guides them firmly yet gently to twist quickly side to side and figure eights. I've always known I have natural rhythm, but I never knew my body was capable of moving the way he is making me move. And he is moving me in more ways than one.

Make me thrill as only you know how, sway me smooth, sway me now.

His eyes are alive as we dance and his gaze is igniting something within me that I wasn't expecting from a late-night stranger. I can't help but break into a grin because of how exuberant he is. He is absolutely glowing.

"Atta girl," he encourages me, "there's that smile." He spins me for good measure and brings us back into hold. "You're good," he compliments, mouth next to my ear.

"Only because its you," I respond back.

Sway me smooth, sway me now.

As the song reaches its climactic instrumental outro, he warns me that a lot if spins are coming and I should focus on a constant spot to keep from getting dizzy. I tuck one arm around my torso as he spins me for what feels like a dozen times before dipping me for a dramatic ending. Out of fear of falling, I tightly wrap one arm around his shoulders and brace my other hand on the side of his face, which is currently burrowed in my chest area. I pray to the heavens he isn't close enough to feel that my heart is about to explode out of my body.

He pulls me back to an upright position, still holding me close. "You followed me well," he exhales, catching his breath.

Before I can stop myself, I declare, "I would follow you anywhere." My response triggers a dark look in his eyes and he pulls away enough to slide his hands to grasp mine. He leads me away to a less populated area of the club and cages me against the wall with his arms. My back arches off the wall as I pull on the front of his shirt, desperate to eliminate the space between our torsos. A growl builds deep in his throat as he wraps one arm tightly around my waist and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear with his other hand, all the while keeping his eyes locked on mine. Our noses brush lightly and his lips are a breath away from mine when suddenly--

"Yah! Kang Jae Rin! I can't believe you fell asleep waiting for us to get ready," a voice loudly interrupts me. I bolt up into a sitting position and look around bewildered. "What's happening?" I ask.

"You got ready first and said you were you to wait for us on the couch, but then you fell asleep...your ability to sleep anywhere is seriously no joke," my friends debrief me.

I frown and clarify, "Wait, so we haven't gone dancing yet?"

"Not yet, but we are going to be late for those free lessons if you don't wake your lazy up!" they chide me. I reluctantly stand and gather up my purse and shoes as it dawns in me that it was all a dream, and mystery man isn't real.

We arrive at Del Fuego at 8:30 on the dot, but are informed that the instructor is running a bit late, so the lesson will start in a few minutes. I am too busy looking around at the decor to notice that a young man has walked out onto the stage. The screech of the audio system and the sound of fingers tapping on the microphone bring me out if my trance. As I look up, a single spotlight is to illuminate the instructor on stage. It takes half a second for my jaw to hit the floor. It's him. Dream boy. Mystery man.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he drawls. "I'm Jongin and I'll be your dance instructor for tonight. If this is your first time here with me, be prepared for me to change your life."