The club has a secret room. It has a DJ booth, dimmed light, and a glowing dance floor. It’s a lounge with a quiet, soft atmosphere. It might as well be in another building. You can only access it if you have a special key, or if you know the special knocking code.

Hugo has the special key.

And I know the special code.

The DJ booth is playing a smooth jazz playlist when I enter, and we start swaying along the slow beat. For a while.

The girls from the cheer squad and I liked to go outside as a group. And sometimes, the boys would tag along. They watched us rock the dance floor with the perfectly prepared choreographies that put every single dancer to shame. Even the weird ones that always seemed to appear out of nowhere around midnight and had glowing eyes.

Really, we sort of suspected that part of their interest would have been lost without the short, short cheerleader outfits.

*sigh* Teenagers.

It doesn’t stop me from having the time of my life on the dance floor once my friends have had enough. I’m cheer-captain for a reason: whether with pompoms or with glow sticks, my whole family has rhythm in the blood.

And Charlotte and Romain apparently don’t mind me being busy with something else.

It’s okay, though. On this particular night out, my head is absolutely elsewhere. And pretty soon, I leave the dance floor too, anyways.

The Queen of the Dancefloor

The Queen I tell you.

Too preoccupied with my moves to care about them.