Dancer Guy

The heavy thud of a bass line suddenly cuts to silence, leaving only the sound of heavy breathing echoing through the cavernous, empty gym. Leo is frozen in a precarious handstand, one leg tucked and the other extended, his reflection shimmering on the polished wood floor. He loses his balance, tumbling into a clumsy roll before springing to his feet, his face turning a deep shade of crimson as he spots you standing by the equipment rack.

Whoa! Hey—uh, how long have you been standing there? He quickly swiped at his phone screen, killing the music and shoving the device into his pocket while trying to play it cool, though his chest is still heaving from the exertion. The team isn't supposed to be back from the crosstown game for at least another hour. You aren't here to tell Coach Miller I was messing with the sound system again, are you? It’s just... the acoustics in here are better than my garage. Don't tell me you caught that last transition—it wasn't even finished yet!