“Alright, so I got one weekend to learn this routine. Think I could do it?”

Honestly, she was talking to herself more than her boyfriend, who was currently warming up with some old predebut choreography. If Vernon wasn't a rapper, he was definitely a performer. She was always impressed by his dancing, his moves were always so effortless and natural to his body. He moved like water, rushing and flowing to his own rhythm.

He threw another devilishly wicked smirk into the mirror (channeling his nonexistent bad boy) before the music faded into a lull. As the music dissolved, he planted himself back to reality. Her Vernon smiled sweetly at her, doing a little involuntary hair flip to flick the sweat from his brow. “Did you figure it out?” he asked.

“Kinda.” she replied vaguely, gesturing to her laptop screen. Pressing play on her video, she showed him a couple moves she had to learn.

“Oh, we got this.” he said confidently. “How long until the performance?”

“The day after tomorrow.” she muttered, drawing circles with the toe of her sneaker.

“And why did you agree to do this so late?”

“Because.” she sighed, plopping onto the ground. “I wasn't supposed to originally. But my friends lost a female dancer and they were guilt tripping me that I hang out way too much with my boyfriend and I need a hobby.”

“Well, did you mention the fact that your boyfriend is an extremely busy idol?”

“No.” she deadpanned. “Then they'd steal you away from me.”

“You know that ain't happening, baby girl.” he assured, holding out a hand. “Now let's practice before the performance team takes over the room.”

“And then, ya gotta milk it like this.” he performed the move.

“Milk what?”

“It's a dance term. Just relax your muscles and ease it out.” she did what he instructed, but Vernon wasn't satisfied and reached behind her, holding her open arm while steadying her waist with his other arm. “Like that.” he murmured, his lips close to the shell of her ear.

She glared at their reflection. “Y’know, I'm pretty sure I did that move right. You're just finding excuses to touch me.”

“Of course I am.” he said brightly, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. “You're a great dancer.”

“Ah, then good! We’re done for the day.” and she moved away from the mirror, only to find Vernon tracking her moves as she walked back to her laptop. “What?”

He leaned in, tilting his head expectantly. “Don’t I get a thank you kiss?”

“No!” she cried, pushing him away by the chest.

“But I helped you!”

“But you’re all sweaty.”

“But you’re glowing.” he replied, sounding uncharacteristically suave.

Honestly, she could care less whether they were sweaty or not. Vernon tugged at the hem of her black tank top, edging her closer to him. She reached a hand out to brush the warm bangs from his forehead, pushing it back. Before she could lean in and deliver that thank you, he pushed away at the last second, and grinned encouragingly.

“Let’s dance.” he said suddenly.

Confused, she replied, “But we’ve been dancing all day.”

“No, I mean let’s really dance.” and his eyes lit up wonderfully, like he’s been wanting to do this all along. “Like the dances you had in high school. What was it, formal?”

“Prom.” she murmured wistfully, remembering those fond school memories. Even though it was only a few years ago, it felt like forever that she was walking down the dance floor in a beautiful dress for the final song. “You saw my pictures?”

“Prom.” he repeated, brushing a stray fly away from her ponytail. “The boy who got to dance with you is incredibly lucky.”

“Too bad I wasn’t.” she laughed lightly. “He stepped on my toes the entire night.”

“Well then,” he stepped away, and fiddled with her open laptop. Scrolling through YouTube, he clicked on a familiar ballad he’s been playing for ages. Vernon wasn’t much of a ballad guy, so it was one of the very few songs he treasured. Slow, acoustic music filled the speakers, bathing the room with warm tones and sweet singing. He held out his hand, and she held out hers. Placing a cotton-soft kiss on her knuckle he asked, “Shall we go back in time?”