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Kiara knew that she was born to dance. She had begun in her youth, and now she was enrolled in, and excelling at, Juilliard. She rehearsed daily, beginning with ballet and ending with ballroom, and was most alive and content in her disciplined world of dance. Every move was choreographed and scripted. She knew who she was, in the give and take, and what was expected of her.

She was a talented vocalist, and had performed in concert choir as well as music theater, but she couldn't imagine wanting more or different. At night, she prayed, "God, I'll never need a husband if I can just dance forever."

It was all she wanted from life, until she met her male counterpart, Mikhail. He was exquisite and exacting, the perfect leading man with dark hair, muscular build, and turquoise eyes.

At first rehearsal, she looked up at him, and he held her stare with his own. She couldn't look away, and couldn't breathe. She had never seen eyes as captivating before. It was visceral, magnetic, remarkable, and absolutely unsettling.

Their styles, precision and timing seemed to mesh perfectly but, ultimately, Kiara found the thought of him disquieting. Though she couldn't pinpoint what was unsettling, she found herself distracted by thoughts of him, far too often, and she took it as a challenge.

She'd arranged a night of the most strenuous dancing available. She was flawless, from ten spins, to lifts, to jumps, to death drops, really meaning to burn him from mind. Revelers lined the dance floor applauding, and she gave them an amazing show. She left the club completely happy, having accomplished her goal. Kiara was walking on air, even in five-inch regulation dance heels.

Upon getting herself back in her dorm room, she sat on the bed and discovered a message from Mikhail. Damn it!

"Kiara, don't forget rehearsal at 9am. Make it 8:30am if you can."

She just couldn't fathom how he could get under her skin with a simple, impersonal message. And now I'm right back where I started, she groused.

Finally, she broke down and called her lifelong best friend. The hour was late, but she knew it wouldn't matter. Noelle was a true blue friend. No matter what, the two were inseparable, and always there for each other.

Noelle rarely minced words, and Kiara needed her honesty, even if it was occasionally bracing.

"Noelle, I have a new male lead."

"That's good. Right?"

"Yes, I guess. I just..." she stopped short.

"Talk to me, Kiara. What's troubling you? Is he giving you a hard time?"

"Not in the way you might think. He's just... terribly distracting."

"Distracting? How so?"

"As a partner, he's perfect but, off the dance floor, I can't shake him."

"Is he stalking you?"

"In a manner of speaking. He's always on my mind. When I should be thinking through steps and timing, when I'm studying, when I'm washing my hair, when I'm eating breakfast, when I'm 'fill in the blank', I just don't know how to shake him!"

"Uh oh," Noelle smirked.

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