Tri's studio looked way too professional for this disaster waiting to happen. Wide mirrors covering an entire wall, polished wood floors glowing under warm lights, and that faint lemony-clean smell that screamed: you're about to humiliate yourself here.
The so-called "dance team" shuffled in early, despite swearing they'd been dragged against their will. By seven sharp, nearly twenty kids were crammed in. Most wore gym tees and sneakers; one dude even rocked flip-flops like he was ready for a beach trip.
Vy tied her hair back and groaned."God, just seeing these mirrors makes me want to faint."
"Fainting's fine," someone shot back. "But slipping and face-planting mid-routine? That's how you go viral on TikTok."
Snickers broke the tension.
Meanwhile, Uy Phong sat up straight, staring at his reflection like it was auditioning for a movie poster. Yep. Still gorgeous.
Next to him, An Phong flipped a book like the noise didn't exist. Though Uy Phong swore he caught him sneaking glances at the mirror too.
At exactly seven, Tri marched in with a tote bag and a towel over his shoulder. He clapped three times, voice sharp and commanding:"Everyone's here. Good. Let's warm up."
The room groaned like a funeral procession.
"Warm up? For dancing?" a weak voice piped.
Tri raised an eyebrow."You think dancing's just flailing around? Skip warm-up and you'll be crying with pulled muscles tomorrow. Now—line up."
So they did, with faces like condemned prisoners.
After ten brutal minutes of stretching, Tri paced like a general inspecting troops. Then, finally, he nodded."Alright. Good start. Let's move on."
He cued the speakers. A sweeping instrumental filled the studio—drums, strings, soaring notes that practically shouted patriotism. For a second, even the most reluctant kids straightened up, like maybe this wouldn't be a complete trainwreck.
Then Tri dropped the bomb."The piece is about our homeland. We'll need farmers, village maidens, soldiers… and enemy invaders."
Gulp.
Roles were assigned. Vy as the maiden. An Phong, of course, as the soldier. And Uy Phong—naturally—cast as the foreign invader.
"Wait, what? Why am I the American soldier?"
The boys all gave him a look. Someone muttered, "Bro, you literally lived abroad. You look imported."
"But I'm Canadian!" Uy Phong protested.
Another chimed in, "You're huge. If you play the soldier, who's scary enough to be the invader? Think about it."
…Fine. They had a point. Still stung, though. He deserved hero material, not villain duty.
The girls rehearsed first, miming farmers drying rice with sweeping, graceful motions. Surprisingly elegant, almost mesmerizing under the music.
The boys, sidelined, devolved into restless commentary—yawns, jokes, a few starry-eyed stares at crushes.
Uy Phong and An Phong stood together, arms crossed. At first, both casual. Then… both zeroed in on Vy.
Normally Vy was chaos incarnate, loud and rowdy as any guy. But on the studio floor, as the maiden, she was serious, fluid, sharp in every step. For once, she looked… beautiful.
Uy Phong smirked—until he noticed An Phong staring too. And not just staring. Mesmerized.
Oh, hell no.
He jabbed an elbow into An Phong's side. The other boy flinched, mask of cool indifference snapping back in place, crystal gaze gone dark again.
"What?" An Phong said flatly.
"Nothing, psycho," Uy Phong muttered, though irritation burned under his skin. Why it burned, he didn't know. He just hated it.
The two locked eyes—one icy, one bristling. Sparks, but not the fun kind.