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"Yeah?" he grinned.

"Yeah."

He pulled me even closer, his lips hovering over mine. "Say it then."

I let out a soft laugh before whispering, "You’re mine, Langston." His lips crashed into mine again, this time slow, deep, claiming. And in that moment, I knew this was the start of something real.

With schoolofficially back in session, my days were no longer my own. Between classes, rehearsals, and late-night homework sessions, my schedule had quickly gone from free-flowing and relaxed to hectic and exhausting. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Especially not my dance rehearsals.

Today, my partner Monty and I had been working tirelessly, fine-tuning our routine for our upcoming showcase.

The song choice was Jill Scott’s“He Loves Me (Lyzel in E Flat).” The dance was sensual, intimate and. motional.

We weren’t just moving to the music—we were telling a story. A story of longing, love, and passion. A story which was inspired by real life. Every step, every touch, every glance had to be felt, not just performed.

"Breathe through it Serenity," Monty murmured, his deep voice steady as we moved together. "Feel the music. Let it guide you."

I exhaled, relaxing into the movements, my body melting into his as he spun me out, then pulled me back into his chest. Our bodies moved in sync, every shift, every brush of our hands and arms deliberate and charged.

When the song reached its peak, our faces were just inches apart, our breathing shallow, our bodies close enough that anyone watching would feel like they were intruding on something private.

It was the kind of dance that made the audience believe in love, even if they had never been in it. And as the final beat of the song faded out, I realized— I was worried about what Creed was going to think.

Later that evening, I stretched across my bed, my phone pressed to my ear as Creed’s familiar voice filled the line.

"How was rehearsal?" he asked, his voice low, relaxed.

"It was good. Long as hell, but good," I murmured, rolling onto my back. "Monty and I were working on our routine for the showcase."

"Yeah? What song y’all using?"

I hesitated for a second. "He Loves Me by Jill Scott."

A short pause. "Oh, word?"

I bit my lip. "Yeah… it’s, um, pretty intimate."

Another pause.

"How intimate we talking SB?"

I exhaled, closing my eyes. "It’s a partner dance, Creed. It’s supposed to tell a story. We gotta be close, there’s touching, eye contact… it’s intense."

I waited, listening for his reaction. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, but I could hear the way he shifted on the other end of the line.

Then—

"It’s just a dance, right?"

I frowned slightly. "Of course it’s just a dance. But I wanted to make sure you were cool with it."

"I mean… yeah, I ain’t trippin’." But there was something in his voice. Something tight and restrained. I knew Creed well enough by now to know when he was holding something back.

"You sure?" I pressed gently.

He let out a short chuckle. "Yeah, SB. I’m sure. I know what you do, I know what this is."