Tiffany laughed dryly as she punched a wooden dummy modeled on the ones used in the martial art of Wing Chun. She had started off hitting a punching bag bare-fisted, but found it did nothing to relieve the ache that resided somewhere deep in her upper chest. Instead, the dull pain resulting from striking the wooden dummy seemed to work a little better.

“I’ll be straight with you.”

Did Jessica even know how that sounded to Tiffany? If the girl was so darn observant, had she seen how Tiffany lusted after her? Had she felt those sly looks shot her way whenever they had dance practice together? Sensed the awkward avoidance in the showers that prevented the total unraveling of self-control? Does it even matter? The girl hates Tiffany, and Tiffany…well, Tiffany was disappointed, but she didn’t hate Jessica. There were so many like her before. Why start hating now? There’d be a ton of others that deserved to be higher on the list, and despite all that she had said, Tiffany still found herself very much physically attracted to the ice princess.

Glancing at the clock, Tiffany sighed and saw that training would start soon. She was physically quite worn out, but the workout left her a little less ‘achy’.

Today was going to be a long day…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tiffany entered vocal training a little late. She glanced around, they usually only had vocal practice with small groups of four or less. Taeyeon. Miyeon. Tiffany herself. And oh look, what luck. Jessica.

The ice princess stiffened visibly when Tiffany walked in. This would be the first time the two of them would have vocal practice together. But clearly, that was not the reason for the awkwardness. The other two in the room were oblivious.

Vocal training started off ok. Tiffany’s voice was not nearly as powerful as Taeyeon’s, it did not have the range of Jessica’s vocals, nor did she sound as sweet as Miyeon. But Tiffany wasn’t necessarily weak, rather her somewhat limited Korean, and her deeper, huskier voice, made it more of a challenge. Plus, the music they were practicing wasn’t really her style. Tiffany wasn’t ‘feeling it’ and it showed. Her instructor chastised her repeatedly for lack of conviction and emotion in her singing. Gritting her teeth in frustration, Tiffany wished she could be in dance training instead. At least the physical exertion would be cathartic.

“Tiffany! Can you hear yourself? You sound like you’re reciting your multiplication tables! It’s been almost two weeks and you haven’t shown me that you’ve improved at all!” the instructor stopped her for the nth time. Two of the three girls stared at the ground, trying to make it less awkward. The third smirked gleefully.

“Honestly! I don’t understand why the president insisted on you joining SM when it’s clear that you have had no training whatsoever! This is not fair to you, it’s not fair to me, and it’s certainly not fair to the other trainees!” the rant continued. Tiffany felt blameworthy. She really wasn’t trying. The president, Tiffany owed him this. But she was just so unfocused and tired today, perhaps if she could show him on her own terms?

“I’m sorry. Please allow me to try again. But this time can I use that guitar you have? And would you mind if I chose my own song?” Tiffany asked with a very low bow to the instructor, then one bow to each of the three girls in apology. As she was bowing to Jessica, Tiffany could see balled up fists with white knuckles. Was the girl was still mad? Talk about holding a grudge… The instructor narrowed his eyes at Tiffany, before giving a careless wave in the direction of the acoustic guitar sitting in the corner. Tiffany walked over to grab it and took her seat.

Hey babygirl. I hope you’re watching, cause you know I hate this. But for you…a thousand times over.

She strummed a few times, tuning the guitar, and then biting her lips in concentration, she strummed out a few test cords. Satisfied, her voice rang out slightly tremulous from nervousness. Tiffany began to sing.

I felt the

Faint trace of thunder

Rattle this old house

I saw the fire light the sky

But there’s no sign of rain anywhere

I need a hurricane

To empty out this place

Seems it’s the only way

To salvage any sense I have left

To move on

I’m waiti