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Restlessness took over her; feet tapping against the polished floor, fidgeting with a chopstick she didn't know how to use and the urge to move. Sure, she served as the co-chair for the event. That didn't mean she'd get to perform. And she was a pop-star after all. She loved to dance, who doesn't? But she couldn't have possibly known her one simple move would lead to a series of scandals that wouldn't go away, unless she does. So she mentioned it, casually, the way they resisted to dance at formal events, even during a performance. Abel was on the stage at that moment.

Tom stretched out his hand to her. Tom. Hiddleston. She was tipsy and furious enough to take it. He twirled her then and there, she circled around him, their fingers entwining, their bodies brushing each others, grooving with careless dance moves – his involved a lot of robotic movements and it made her laugh. Beyonce's Crazy in Love, T.I.'s Bring 'Em Out, and more songs she didn't remember dancing to later, she was overwhelmed. Cheers and hoots echoed around them, camera flashes caught their little escapade. It felt good. She looked around, a little breathless and almost everyone had their eyes upon them. But they were oblivious to the fact that hers searched him.

And he was looking straight at her.

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