"Ah, Yoojung! Great to see you again!"
I smile at the receptionist, shivering slightly as I enter. I wonder why nobody here ever bothers to turn the air-conditioner down a notch. It's so cold that the mirrors occasionally get fogged up. Nevertheless, it's still much warmer than the freezing weather outside.
"Do you have a class today?"
I nod. "It's at 6, actually. I'm just here to observe the earlier classes, to, y'know, learn some stuff here and there."
The receptionist smiles and waves me off. It's one of my first days at work and I am bursting with anticipation. I glance in the mirror as I neaten my hair, which had been tossed into a mess by the rough wind outside. People have always called me 'Baby Yoojung' because of my 'adorably' puffy cheeks and huge eyes, which, according to Hyojin, are as large as saucers. I seriously doubt that.
Hyojin is one of my closest friends, and thankfully, she's also a choreographer here. I first met her when I toured Singapore together with my dance troupe, Oriental Shock. That was when I had met Lia Kim, yet another extraordinarily talented dancer as well. Hyojin's like an older sister to me – hilarious, wise, down to earth – basically a huge ball of energy. I joke to her that her hair looks like a mushroom but she's never really bothered about it. She jokes to me that my hair looks like I styled myself to go to school. I gaze in the mirror and frown. Does my hair really look that boring? "Yoojung ah, are you 42 or 24 years old? Spend more time to make yourself look pretty! Otherwise, boys will never pay attention to you!" my father used to laugh.
Lia is a feisty dancer. Like Hyojin, she's full of energy and passion when she dances – full of youthful confidence as well.
I place my bag in the locker and saunter through the hallway, glancing into the classrooms.
I'd met some of the other choreographers recently. May J is like a second Lia – both have short hair, wear crop tops nearly 99% of the time, and are amazing dancers. She has such a beautiful smile! Although she never admitted it, she and Bongyoung are probably together already. The way she smiles when people talk about both of them gives the story away. Bongyoung Park is yet another choreographer here in the studio. He has curly black locks, a nice, easy smile and a tall frame, making girls swoon over him instantaneously.
Eunho Kim. Large eyes, friendly but rather shy. His hairstyle is a bowl cut and I find myself suppressing a laugh every time I stare too long at it. He's amazingly talented.
Sori Na. Long, jet-black hair, huge, sparkling eyes, rosy lips. This girl sets the dance floor on fire. Her hiphop moves are mesmerizing. Her natural swagger adds to the vibe.
Junsun Yoo. Very attractive smile. Loves shorts a bit too much. Apparently nobody has ever seen him wear pants before, which is something incredibly perplexing to me. He and Sori are like a married couple – always quarreling, but have their tender moments as well. They're adorable.
Koosung Jung. So incredibly adorable! He still looks like a little kid. Really friendly and outgoing and never seems to run out of energy, or things to talk about. Crazy talented.
I glance through the icy glass doors into one of the classrooms. Mina Myoung. Apparently, she's the queen bee here – and I can see why. She's tall and lanky, and her hair is long, black and silky. Her hair flutters around her like a cape as she dances. She's moves confidently and gracefully while her students gawk at her in awe. She has a good body too – very long, skinny legs and a tiny waist, which is further enhanced by her crop top and track pants.
I look at myself distastefully. I look like a potato sack. I wear large, oversized sweaters most of the time. "What?" my inner Yoojung protests. "It's your style. You can wear whatever you like." I sigh and continue walking.
"Hey, Yoojung!" I hear Bongyoung's voice behind me.
"Hey! You're here for class?"
"Mmhmm." He nods as he catches up with me. "Mine's after Jay's."
"Jay?" I ask, confused.
"Yeah, Jay Kim. He's one of my best buddies, y'know? I'm guessing you haven't met him yet." Bongyoung gestures towards the classroom in front. "He's almost ending class. Let's go take a look."
As if on cue, the students stream out of the classroom, buzzing happily with each other. I silently hope that my students would be happy after attending my classes too.
"Yo, Jay!" Bongyoung calls cheerfully. "Have you met Yoojung yet?"
I freeze.
Wow.
Standing in front of me is a guy even taller than Bongyoung. Bongyoung is already pretty tall. This guy is just… well, he's pretty impressive. Like Mina, his body is long and lanky, and so are his limbs. His arms are thin, but wiry and muscular. My eyes can't help but roam over the rest of his body. His cheekbones are absolutely stunning. My inner Yoojung makes a bet that they could cut the glass doors behind us. His eyes are ash-black, and deep like a bottomless abyss. Emotionless, too. I feel tingles running down my spine as my breath catches in my throat.
He turns to look at Bongyoung, then fixes his gaze on me. I stare back at him helplessly, not knowing what exactly to do or say. How should I react? Should I say hi? Should I smile? My feet are rooted to the floor. His gaze is surprisingly unnerving, his eyes like a pair of lasers, perforating my body. It's as if he's looking right through me. I gulp.
"No," he says casually and quietly. "I haven't. Are you taking over the next class, Bong?"
He totally ignored me. Well, almost totally. I flinch at his callousness.
"Yep!" Bongyoung replies in his usual cheery manner. "Yoojung, shouldn't you be headed for your class too?"
He snaps me out of my daze. "Oh, yeah! I should go now!" I say, a bit too enthusiastically as I turn on my heel and barrel out of the room, my cheeks burning.
Jay Kim. His name replayed in my head a dozen times. I don't think he had any idea what effect he had on me.
My class was fantastically fun!
"Bye Yoojung!" they chime as they stream out of the classroom. I had taught them one of my old choreographies to a Korean pop song, and they absolutely loved it. The smiles on their faces really brightened up my day, but I still felt pretty exhausted.
I sip on my iced coffee as I stroll out. What should I teach them next? Hiphop? Or more contemporary? Maybe I should try Justin Bieber? Or Taylor Swift? I check my phone. My students are already furiously tagging me in all their latest Instagram posts. I can't help but chuckle to myself.
Maybe I should -
"AGH!" I feel as if I'd just slammed into a brick wall. "Ah, sorry, sorry…" I apologise profusely, my cheeks reddening instantly. My iced coffee streams down my hands as I struggle to pick up the cup from the floor.
I look up. It's not a brick wall.
It's Jay Kim.
I spring up to my feet. "Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness. I'm really, really sorry…" I cringe at how weak and squeaky my voice sounds. A large brown stain is blossoming on his white shirt. I vigorously munch on the insides of my cheeks, a bad habit that I have when I'm nervous or stuck in a sticky situation. Such as this.
He stares at me vacantly, expressionlessly. At the corner of my eye, I can see his jaw muscles tightening. My inner Yoojung is sobbing and yelling and screaming.
"Ah, Jay, there you are – oh my God, what happened to the both of you?!"
I quietly heave a huge sigh of relief as Bongyoung appears to save me from this incredibly awkward situation.
"She spilled her coffee on me."
I glance at Jay again. His voice holds no emotion. He says it in an extremely matter-of-fact way, as if reading from a textbook.
Bongyoung grins, rummaging through his bag, eventually pulling out an almost identical white shirt. "You can have my extra shirt for today, then."
Jay's lips curve into a small smile as he takes it. Without any warning whatsoever, he takes his stained shirt off.
His body is nothing short of amazing. He's thin, but incredibly lean, wiry and muscular. It's as if his body is made of 100% muscle and no fat. I can't help but gape. Unfortunately, he puts the new shirt on within seconds.
He abruptly turns to look at me, and I feel my breath catch in my throat again. Again, without warning, his lips curl into a subtle smirk as he observes my expression. "Thanks for the shirt, Bongyoung." He slings his stained shirt over his shoulder and casually walks out, whistling to himself.
I feel as if I'd just been tossed into a whirlpool.
Great, I thought to myself. This is going to be absolutely fantastic.
