The thunderous bassline of "Starlight Echo" pulsed through Practice Room B, a sprawling space where mirrored walls amplified every movement, every bead of sweat. The air vibrated with the raw energy of a meticulously choreographed routine. Lux, along with their team of eight backup dancers, moved as a single, cohesive unit, their bodies a symphony of sharp angles and fluid transitions. Anthony Go, Heather's uncle and their seasoned dance trainer, stood at the far end of the room, his eyes scanning the performance with a hawk-like intensity. His phone, perched against a water bottle, displayed the choreography, a digital blueprint mirroring the live spectacle unfolding before him.
The room was a kaleidoscope of motion. Rhys, his dark hair plastered to his forehead with perspiration, led the charge, his movements powerful and precise. Beside him, Jess moved with his signature grace, his limbs flowing like liquid shadows. Emmett, usually the most playful, was a picture of focused intensity, nailing a complex spin with unwavering concentration. Dave, his face flushed, struggled to keep up with the intricate hand gestures, while Henry, his energy boundless, threw himself into each step with a fierce determination.
The eight backup dancers, a mix of men and women, mirrored Lux's movements with unwavering precision, their bodies a testament to countless hours of rigorous training. They moved in perfect synchronization, their forms creating intricate patterns against the mirrored walls. Some executed powerful leaps and turns, while others maintained a steady, grounded rhythm, their movements providing a dynamic backdrop to Lux's performance.
Anthony's voice, amplified by a small microphone clipped to his shirt, cut through the music. "Backup dancers, your formation on the bridge is too tight! You're crowding Jess! Lux, Dave, your hand movement on the 2nd verse needs to be sharper. Remember, it's a flick, not a wave!" He rewound the track, replaying the sequence. "Again, from the bridge!"
The music roared back to life, and the thirteen figures launched into the routine, their bodies a blur of motion. Rhys's eyes, locked on his reflection, scanned for any imperfections, any deviation from the precise choreography. He felt the burn in his muscles, the sting of sweat in his eyes, but he pushed through, his focus unwavering.
The room was a whirlwind of controlled chaos. The rhythmic pounding of the music, the sharp staccato of their footsteps, the soft whoosh of their synchronized movements, all blended into a hypnotic rhythm. The mirrors reflected a sea of bodies, a dynamic tableau that pulsed and flowed with the beat.
After what felt like an eternity, Anthony finally held up a hand, halting the music. "Alright, that's a wrap for today!" he announced, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "You guys nailed it. But remember, precision is key. Keep practicing."
The members of Lux and the backup dancers collapsed onto the floor, their chests heaving, their bodies drenched in sweat. They were exhausted, but a sense of accomplishment hung in the air. They had conquered the choreography, mastered the intricate steps, and now, they were one step closer to delivering a flawless performance.
"Man, I'm starving," one of the female backup dancers, Mina, said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "Anyone up for a cafeteria run?"
"Yeah, me too!" another dancer, Taejoon, chimed in, stretching his aching limbs. "That routine took it out of me."
The rest of the backup dancers murmured in agreement, their stomachs growling in unison. They looked towards Lux, their expressions hopeful.
"You guys wanna grab something with us?" Mina asked, addressing Lux. "The cafeteria's got some decent noodles today, I heard."
"Thanks, but we're gonna pass," Rhys said, leaning back against the mirrored wall. "We're beat. We just wanna chill for a bit before heading home."
"Yeah, we're gonna rest up," Jess added, closing his eyes. "That routine was killer."
"We'll catch you guys next time," Emmett said, giving them a tired smile.
"Alright, suit yourselves," Taejoon said, shrugging. "More noodles for us then!"
The backup dancers gathered their belongings and headed towards the door. "See you guys at rehearsal tomorrow!" Mina called over her shoulder.
"See ya!" Lux responded in unison, their voices laced with exhaustion.
As the door closed behind the dancers, a comfortable silence settled over the room. The five members of Lux sprawled on the floor, their bodies aching, their minds drifting.
"I'm so hungry," Dave groaned, rubbing his stomach. "I could eat a horse."
"Me too," Henry agreed, closing his eyes. "I wish someone would bring us food."
"Don't even joke about that," Emmett said, chuckling weakly. "We'd be lucky if we could even move to get to the cafeteria."
Just then, a light knock sounded at the door.
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Each door along the hallway had a small, square window, allowing a quick peek inside. Heather, carrying two large insulated bags, peered through each one, searching for Practice Room B. The rhythmic thumping of bass and the sharp staccato of dance moves echoed from behind one of the doors. When she saw the sign labeled "Practice Room B," she smiled. Inside, she spotted her uncle, Anthony, leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. She gave a light knock before pushing the door open. "Uncle."
The moment she stepped into the room, a whirlwind of movement erupted. Five guys, faces flushed and eyes wide with hunger, surged toward her like a pack of wolves descending on a fresh kill. "FOOD!" one of them shouted, his voice laced with desperation.
Heather's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and amusement. She stumbled back, nearly losing her grip on the bags. "Whoa, hold your horses!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with laughter.
Just as she was about to lose her grip, a hand shot out to catch one of the bags—it was Rhys. He flashed her a grin, a playful glint in his eyes, and winked as he took the bag from her. "Saved by the bell," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. He then casually walked to the corner of the room where the others were sitting.
The rest of the guys looked just as famished. They'd been pushed hard during their practice session, and since Anthony was a perfectionist, they hadn't been allowed a break until the dance was perfected. Now that it was done, they were ravenous—and Heather had arrived with food like an angel sent from above.
Heather watched them with a raised brow. She wasn't about to let them eat her uncle's share too, though. "Hey, you crazy dogs! My uncle hasn't gotten his food yet!" she called out, hands on her hips.
The group froze, realizing their mistake. They all looked at Heather and Anthony, guilty expressions plastered on their faces. Feeling the weight of Heather's disapproving gaze, they all stood up and bowed. "We apologize," they muttered in unison.
Rhys, ever the troublemaker, walked over to Heather, grabbed her hand, and gently pulled her toward the others. "Come eat with us. It looks like Aunt Maggie packed something for you, too," he said, as he settled down on the floor with the rest of the group.
Heather hadn't expected to be included. She thought her task was just to deliver the food and head out. But, seeing how much Rhys was insistent on her staying, she sat down next to him. She crossed her legs to the side, as she was wearing a dress, but the guys couldn't help but notice her long legs, appreciating her elegance.
Seeing Heather's slight discomfort, Rhys's expression softened. He walked to the corner, retrieved his sweatshirt, and gently draped it over her legs. "Here," he said, his voice warm. "Just in case."
Heather let out a relieved sigh and glanced at him with a grateful smile. Rhys winked in response.
"Next time," Rhys teased, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, "consider wearing something... less revealing when you're around these guys."
At that moment, Dave nearly choked on his drink, glaring at Rhys. "Hey! What do you mean by that? I'm not like that!" he said, trying to recover from his near mishap.
The others, flustered, immediately defended themselves, their faces turning crimson. Heather couldn't help but laugh at their reactions.
After they finished eating, Anthony clapped his hands to grab their attention. "Alright, you guys can head home now. I've got to meet with the CEO about your next album," he said, ruffling Heather's hair before leaving the room.
"Yes! Finally, freedom!" Henry exclaimed, jumping up and rushing to the corner to grab his things, followed by Emmett. Meanwhile, Dave and Jess took care of the trash.
Rhys stood up and reached out a hand to Heather. "I'll help you up."
As she took his hand, Heather stood and handed him back his sweatshirt. When she glanced at her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, she realized the skirt of her dress had ridden up, revealing far more of her legs than she intended. She groaned inwardly, cursing the fickle nature of the fabric.
Rhys, noticing her discomfort, subtly shifted his position, standing behind her to shield her from the others' view. He didn't want her to feel embarrassed.
Heather, noticing the shift, looked at Rhys in the mirror and sighed. He must have noticed the dress. She quickly adjusted it, pulling it down as best she could. This dress always seemed to ride up when she sat down, which is why she rarely wore it.
Then, with a gentle touch, he tied his sweatshirt around her waist, effectively hiding the errant hem. "There," he said, his voice soft. "You're all set."
Heather's heart pounded in her chest, a mix of gratitude and something else, something she couldn't quite name. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a warmth that mirrored his.
"Thank you," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
"Anytime," Rhys replied, his gaze lingering on hers. He then walked over to grab his bag from the corner.
Heather could hardly breathe, still flustered. She quickly gathered her thoughts and tried to shake off the heat rising in her cheeks.