...worthless freeloader...

Odile locked eyes with herself in the mirror, fingers gripping the barre. She stretched to a backdrop of mellow jazz and contemplated her circumstance.

It's just such a disgrace. All that hard work, and for what? To become the black swan of the family?

Her Belgravia home boasted its own studio, a once-grand ballroom converted at the whim of current owner and former ballerina, the Honourable Abigail Proctor, CBE. Odile spent most of her time here, now that she no longer had access to Kingsley facilities.

Well, she could have wrangled access, on account of being a Proctor, but using her family privilege in order to escape her family home seemed counterproductive.

You should be grateful that you even have this. Why haven't you joined a dance company yet?

Odile winced at her reflection. She'd been offered plenty of opportunities... by company directors too well-acquainted with her mother for her comfort.

Doesn't mother know best, anyway? She's only looking out for you and wants you to succeed.

"All Abigail wants is to get knighted before she's sixty," Odile mumbled to herself and raised her leg up to her ear.

Don't be mean, you know how much she's suffered. You effectively ended –

Her music came to an abrupt halt, then her phone began to buzz on the grand piano with a call instead.

"Oh, for fuck's sake..."

Huffing and puffing, Odile straightened up from the barre and stomped over. She hated how her furrowed eyebrows relaxed at the sight of caller ID 'Magic Jun' on her screen.

"You won't believe what just came in the mail," he blurted right off the bat. "Or maybe you already got yours?"

She rolled her eyes at her disgruntled mirror self. "Good morning to you, too, Mr Yang. What in bloody hell are you on about?"

Jun chuckled. "I just got a parcel from Vincent Friday. A Phenomenal care package."

"Huh." Unplugging her mobile, Odile wandered out into the hall in search of a maid. "What's in it?"

"Some pretty sweet merch and fancy goodies, but the most important thing of all..."

The ground-floor drawing room stood deserted, so Odile headed downstairs.

"Carry on, then," she urged Jun, deadpan. "The suspense is killing me, mate."

"Oh, yeah, I can hear it!"

Odile finally found one of the maids and, holding the speaker away from her mouth, inquired as to any post that might have arrived for her.

"Oh, looks like I got a parcel, too," she told Jun before he had a chance to spoil the ending. "Let's see."

She secured her phone between ear and shoulder and tore at the packaging. Hoodie, T-shirt, leggings, all branded Phenomenal, luxury wine and chocolates, and, lying flat on the bottom of the box, a black envelope.

"Did you find it?" Jun asked, overenthusiastic.

"The thank-you card? Yeah, it's right here."

"Well, open it!"

Odile sighed loudly into the speaker. A stiff black square, scrawled with silver handwriting, slid with ease out of the unsealed envelope. It was not a thank-you card. It was a VIP invitation to the Phenomenal launch party in London.

"Did you open it?"

Odile hoped Jun couldn't hear her gulp. "I did, yeah."

"You're not excited," he guessed.

"...No," she couldn't help admitting.

"But why? It's a Vincent Friday party! And we did his title track video! It's basically our party, too."

"I know, Jun, I... It was a really cool gig and it's an achievement to be proud of, but I don't necessarily feel like getting involved with Vincent Friday any further."

Beggars shouldn't be choosers, but here we are.

A prolonged stretch of silence, punctuated by Jun's breathing on the other end of the line. "Did he do anything to you?"

"What?"

His tone sharpened around the edges. "I know how guys like Vince can get with the dancers and trust me, I will not stand for that shit. If he so much as touched you – "

"Oh, gosh, no!" she hurried to interrupt him, her cheeks burning. "No, nothing of the sort, just..."

Jun sighed, his relief palpable, but cautious. "Okay, then. Meet me for coffee?"

"Jun, listen..." How could she talk herself out of this one? Because if she did meet him, they wouldn't stop at coffee. "You're very sweet and I'm very thankful – "

"Come out and meet me if I'm that sweet. At the Kingsley shop?"

"Jun..."

"Bring the butler if he's not letting you leave."

Odile caught herself smiling and bit her lip. "We don't have a butler."

"Then what's stopping you?" Jun argued and she could hear the victorious grin in his voice.

*

The Kingsley Café, on the ground floor of Jun and Odile's alma mater, was as big a part of the academy's culture as the dancing it taught. Students worked and studied there, went on dates, met recruiters and celebrated their accomplishments. Most people in the café knew Jun and Odile by name, a testament to their own alumni eminence – and the roaring success of the Phenomenal music video.

Although they'd sat in a secluded corner, a few of their old classmates still spotted them and came to say hi. Friends of Jun, it seemed, as the guys fist-bumped and teased 'Magic Jun' for his profitable pastime.

"Lucky," Odile noted, once they'd been left alone again.

"Lucky what?" Jun raised his mug of hot chocolate to his mouth. "That I'm a cool stripper?"

"Yes." She leaned forward with her elbows on the tiny table. "If I were a stripper and my peers knew about it, they would slut-shame me to death."

"Well..."

He set his mug down, licking cream off his lips. His appetising American accent had her on the edge of her seat.

"You're lucky you don't have to be a stripper. And who even says peers, anyway?"

Mortified, Odile fell as far back as possible in the cramped space.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered. "I don't mean to be a snob."

"No, it's fine, I get it." He cupped his drink between his palms. "And anyway, I'm only the 'cool stripper' because it means I'm not 'stealing' anyone else's place. They're safe, so they can afford to be nice to me."

Odile managed half a smile. "And that's why they're peers, not friends."

"Fair enough." He winked. "They've always hated us, haven't they? Our peers. Me, because I'm too poor. You, because you're too rich. But really, it's because we're both too good. If we do this together... we'll be unstoppable."

Jun didn't have to spell out what this meant. Odile gulped into her black coffee.

"Can I ask you something, though?" Jun's voice distracted Odile from the NSFW thoughts budding in her brain.

She absent-mindedly nodded her assent.

"How did you end up dancing contemporary at the Kingsley Academy? Why not ballet?"

Odile hesitated. "I did go to ballet school when I was little," she said and shrugged a shoulder. "Once it became apparent that I was not cut out for it, my parents shipped me off to a boarding school where I could dance all sorts. My teachers there recommended the contemporary module at Kingsley."

"Not cut out for it?" Jun frowned. "Are you kidding? I only passed our pas de deux class because I got partnered up with you."

She blushed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, you're all right!"

"Yeah, not half-bad for a freestyle guy, huh?"

Odile smiled and seized her chance to turn the conversation around. "So, how did you end up at Kingsley? All the way from Chicago?"

"Easy – it was cheaper than college in America, even as an international student. And I got a grant for my first two years."

"Oh, well done, you!"

"Thanks." He slurped the remnants of his hot chocolate and the tip of his tongue traced his smirking lips. "Shall we get out of here now?"

The twenty-minute walk in the snow to his place passed in a blur. Before she knew it, Odile was gasping at his ceiling and grasping at his sheets.

"Odile..."

Her fingers clawed at his shoulder blades, her insides clenching at the way he said her name. That one word alone, uttered like an incantation, could get him anything he wanted. A fleeting fear electrified her, at how effortlessly he pulled her strings.

But one look in his eyes and her doubts cleared. His kindness glinted beneath the lust, a warm fire burning low. It need only be stoked to unleash its full potential. He would protect her no matter what. Fight for her, if she agreed to walk with him.

In sync for life.

"Jun..."

In-between stilted sighs and muffled moans, she made up her mind. She would walk with him.