WHEN SHE’D LET slip that she had a competition coming up in the next month, Reggie had taken note of it, knowing that he’d do whatever he needed to do — take the ghost bus through the 405 if he had to — in order to be there. In fact, he’d made certain to let Luke and Julie and Alex know that they couldn’t book a gig on the eighteenth of the next month, thanks, or else they’d be doing it without a bass. Luke had joked and called him whipped, but Reggie didn’t correct him. After all, the grin on Luke’s face said that he was happy for Reggie, despite teasing him, and the fact that Julie had written it onto her calendar as a no-go date for the band meant that they were respecting it, even if they got to tease him about it.
But, god, he’d never have expected her to be so goddamn GOOD. Every time he got to see her dance — but especially when he got to see her dance by herself — he was reminded that Kayla wasn’t just sorta good, or kinda good: she was INCREDIBLE. The blow-your-mind don’t-even-know-how-someone-could-be-that-good kinda incredible. Tonight was no different; she had left the room holding their collective breath as the music to her piece had finished before the audience had burst into thunderous applause. Even the girls competing clapped, knowing that they’d always been fighting for second place.
He couldn’t help but glow under her delighted gaze. He grinned, ducking his head before meeting her eyes again, and nodded. “I really, really, REALLY liked it,” he assured her. “REALLY liked it! You’re incredible! Like, my brain can’t even totally catch up with just how sick you are. You’re like the Michael Jordan of dancing. You’re like the…. like the DOLLY PARTON of dancing!” He sat down next to her gear bag, breathless from the performance, nearly as much as she was. “You’re just…. so fucking cool, you know? I can’t even believe it.”
she doesn’t get nervous before performances anymore . by the time the day has rolled around, there’s nothing else she can do but practice being mindful in the passenger seat of her father’s car. the nerves come when she’s choreographing, when she’s learning and practicing and crafting, because there’s so much more that can go WRONG then compared to a live performance. and if the routine is shit, the performance is shit. so when kayla knows she’s about to put her best foot forward ( and she never accepts less than that, ) she doesn’t bother putting herself in a tizzy. that strategy had led her to another showstopping routine today and the eventual continuation of the cycle. now that everything is over, however, she gets a brief interval of relief between the end of her routine and her christening as the FIRST PLACE WINNER.
her original plan was to refill her water and get back out there to bask in the praise of those seated around her, but she’s found a much better seat on the floor between reggie and the water fountain. he’s probably the only guy in the world who’s compliments have the power to make her BLUSH, and that’s probably because he’s so out of this world himself. kayla ducks her head to hide a laugh, the adrenaline she built up over the course of her solo gradually fizzling out of her as she gives into relaxation. there is no rush. there is no need to be anywhere but here, taking a break and enjoying his company.
❛ — i’m fucking cool ? i mean, you’re right, but that’s a lot coming from a literal ghost bassist. you’re such a FLATTERER. ❜ she takes another sip of her drink, this time with more control so the water doesn’t dribble down her chin and make her look like a fool. kayla’s head eventually flops against the wall, a tired smile slowly spreading across her face as she carefully eyes him beside her. it’s really rude of him to be so fucking cute about all this. ❛ thanks for coming. i like, totally didn’t even think you’d pop up. which might be kinda dumb, considering you can literally pop. ❜
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