(The Dance moves)

"So you're telling me I'm going to send her back to the city?"

Kyrie crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair as he stared intently at Calum. His face was serious, as if this conversation held immense weight. He pushed aside the laptop on the table, barely acknowledging the man who had interrupted him.

Kyrie Booker flashed his signature smirk, a mischievous glint in his eye, and his left dimple deepened. He had that classic American appeal – blonde, messy, curly hair, and a dazzling white smile. You might easily mistake him for just another regular guy, perhaps a brilliant law student, but he was far from ordinary.

He was the IT guy on the team, a fact made clear by the glasses perched on his nose.

Calum nodded, his hands clasped tightly on the metal table. He met Kyrie's gaze with unwavering seriousness.

They were in the secret headquarters, in the computer room where Kyrie worked.

"You're insane, dude. You shouldn't have saved her," Kyrie said, his voice heavy with disapproval. Disappointment etched itself onto his face, a clear rejection of Calum's actions.

"I didn't save her," Calum retorted, his voice sharp, his face hardening with anger. This startled Kyrie.

Kyrie raised his hands defensively, laughing. "Okay, okay, man! You never saved her." He continued chuckling as he lowered his hands, then asked, "Is she beautiful? Hot?"

Calum paused, his gaze drifting towards the small glass window beside them.

The image of her beautiful, goddess-like face flooded his mind. Her adorable, round hazel eyes, naturally red lips – she was undeniably beautiful. Her long, wavy hair, smooth, creamy skin, perfect thighs and long legs, and full breasts. Her curvy hips and the entirety of her mouthwatering body made him gulp.

He closed his eyes, trying to erase the image from his mind. He hated the fact that he found her so alluring.

He turned back to Kyrie, who was patiently waiting for his response.

"She's a mess," Calum replied, his words seemingly a summary of an entire 800-page book, yet somehow perfectly incorrect. Fascinating.

"I wonder why you disobeyed Crow just for that mess, dude," Kyrie said, his face expressionless, but his eyes widened in surprise as he laughed. He cut off his booming laughter when Calum's face darkened.

"I can't go to the city, either, sorry, dude. I saw it on the news this morning. I'm wanted. But at least I've got a cool nickname. The reporter called me 'The Keyboard,'" Kyrie said, a hint of pride in his voice.

Calum shook his head in disgust at the nickname, but Kyrie seemed to relish it.

"I know what to do, dude," Calum said, his voice serious, his gaze fixed on Kyrie, hoping for a useful suggestion.

"There's this new guy, he's clean, no bad records. I think if you ask him to do what you want, he'll probably agree. I already told him you're Mr. Crow's most trusted assassin," Kyrie said.

---

Mariana cleaned the house, particularly the kitchen, and had already eaten lunch. It was 1:45 PM, and she was happy he wasn't back yet. She hoped cleaning the house would change his mind about killing her. Too bad, if only he thought like her.

She sat on the azure couch, her eyes catching sight of the small radio beneath the round, brown, wooden table.

She picked it up, and thankfully, it turned on when she pressed the power button. She was delighted to hear one of her favorite songs playing on the radio station.

She couldn't help herself, she stood and started singing along, turning the volume up so she couldn't hear the sound of Calum's car pulling up.

She was so engrossed in singing that she raised her hands and clapped them slowly, even turning around, closing her eyes, feeling the rhythm and groove of the song, "Youngblood" by the band 5 Seconds of Summer.

She was oblivious to Calum standing in front of her, watching her act like a clown in a second-rate circus. His face was a mixture of surprise and amusement as he observed her wildly enthusiastic reaction. She was moving her body like crazy, dancing to the beat, but it wasn't exactly graceful. You could say she was a good singer, but definitely not a good dancer. Literally.

Calum stood patiently, watching her dance like a whirlwind until the song ended.

"Ahh, too short!" she exclaimed, her voice echoing through the room.

She picked up the radio, ready to switch to another station, but her round eyes widened, and she stopped. She stared at him awkwardly, shame flooding her face.

He looked at her, his gaze absorbing her shame. After a moment, he walked towards her and took the radio from her hands.

Her gaze remained fixed on him, unyielding, as he placed the radio back on the table and removed his black jacket.

He sat in the chair beside her, his legs spread, his arms resting on his thighs, his fingers intertwined. His head was bowed as a result of his sitting position.

"You sit down," he said.

She moved her feet involuntarily as she sat on the couch, on the other side.

Mariana sat formally, like a trained ranger, with impeccable manners and conduct. She stretched the end of the t-shirt to cover her exposed thighs.

Calum lifted his head, looking at her.

"You're going back to the city tomorrow. My friend will drop you at the bus station, and you can go back to California," he said.

She blinked twice, forcing a smile, trying to convince herself that what she'd heard was good news. It was, indeed, good news.

She couldn't think of anything to say, so she kept her mouth shut. But something in her brain compelled her to speak.

"Thank you," she said.

They stared at each other, her words prolonging the staring contest.

"Thank you, for... saving me. I was so crazy, thinking all the time that you were no different from those criminals who killed those people in the office, who killed Troye. But I realized if you had let me fall into the hands of those other masked men, maybe worse things would have happened to me," she said, slowly lowering her head, her eyes fixed on her hands, which were clasped on her thighs. Her face was sincere, her gratitude genuine.

"I'm no different. You're right," he said, his voice honest. She did her best not to look at him. What he said was never easy to hear, especially after her heartfelt thanks.

"What makes you think I'm different from them when I also killed people? I killed all those masked men. I'm a killer, a criminal. If you stay with me longer, you'll see how scary I am," he said.

This time, Mariana looked at him.

"So why did you save me from those hooligans? Why did you choose not to kill me, unlike what your boss told you to do?" she asked.

No answer came from his lips. He just stared at her, drowning in her curiosity and uncertainty. He didn't even know why he'd saved her. Right now, he felt like a loser, unable to answer such simple questions. He wanted to convince himself he hadn't saved her, but he had, twice.

Mariana didn't wait for him to speak. She stood and this time, she was the one who walked away.

"Wait," he said.

Mariana stopped, but didn't turn around. She couldn't wait to hear what he was going to say.

And these words came from Calum's mouth:

"Nice dance moves, by the way."

***