Not Your Boyfriend (2PARK✔️)

Lesson One: Counting

I find a corner of the studio to hunker down in while my fellow trainees file in, shoving at each other and flapping their jaws loudly. They come in groups of two or three, until all ten of us scheduled for this group lesson have arrived. I remain in my corner, awaiting the impending arrival of our teacher, who will analyze us as a group along with individually.

I don't think the latter will be my friend during this practice. Since starting extra practices with the New Guy three days ago, the main dance I'm supposed to perform onstage hasn't even been touched. For three hours a day, we've been counting beats and stepping from side to side. I haven't built a sweat in a single lesson of his.

Unless you count the sweat that collects between my clenched fists.

I stare at the bare wooden flooring between my crossed legs, tapping a steady beat against my thigh and trying to recall to mind the group dance I also haven't bothered to practice on my own. I've mentally reached the bridge of the song when a body seats itself directly beside me. I see his tanned arm before I see his clothed face, a grimace quick to replace my bland expression.

"What are you doing in the corner? Your fellow trainees are stretching already." New Guy doesn't make a move to pull me up however, and just watches my peers as they bend this way and that, pulling on one another's arms and reaching towards the ceiling in unison. "Have you prepared well, Your Highness?"

"What're you doing here?" I ask instead, deflecting the question to the best of my ability.

"I asked your instructor if I could sit in on the beginning of the assessment. I told him I was your tutor and he said it was fine." My hand freezes against my thigh, having lost count on its own the moment he sat down beside me. "So have you prepared well?"

"No," I say gruffly as I push myself up, using the wall for support. "I've been busy counting my steps and going to classes between our group lessons. And the studio has been locked up earlier than usual lately so solo practice time is hard to come by."

Dark eyes, almost black regard me carefully from over today's white mask. God I hate that color. "Don't you have a bedroom? Or a living room? A parking lot even?"

He doesn't ask condescendingly, but the questions still irritate me more than they should. My dorm room wouldn't work, and the living room is overflowing with clothes and other trainees, but the parking garage beside our dorm building would've worked all this time. I groan and draw my foot back to kick out, but drop it with a slap against the wood instead when the door to the studio opens.

Our thirty-something Teacher Seo steps into the room expressionless, waving a large hand to welcome silence. He regards our group as we gather into our line, my place third from the rightmost spot. We don't greet him as a group, synchronization not learned between us yet, rather saying 'Hello' on our own terms.

"Where's Jihoon-ah?" His eyes glide down the line before reaching mine, still expressionless. "You'll be going first today, as your tutor made it painfully obvious that you've been falling behind in your lessons and need time for your studying."

My eyes widen as I glance over my shoulder, New Guy clearly smiling behind the stupid mask that he'll surely never abandon. His dark hand lifts, his fingers wiggling in a small wave, only meant to egg me on. I sigh, facing forward once again, giving only one nod to Teacher Seo.

"Yes sir, I'll work hard." Snickers from around me poke at my sides, drawing the blood to the surface of my cheeks in embarrassment. I could use one of New Guy's signature masks right about now.

"Alright then. Everyone get in place for the group dance, solo dances following immediately after." Teacher Seo drags a chair to the head of the studio, perching himself atop it for a better vantage than the floor can allow.