"Are you sure it's OK for me to come?" Tricia asked timidly as she climbed into Mrs. McCartney's Ford Explorer next to McKenzie. McKenzie glanced briefly at Tricia until Tricia's eyes swam to hers. They made eye contact and smiled brighter than the blinding, golden sun seeping into the car like smoke raising from a BBQ.

"Sure," Jesse spoke first, turning in the front seat to face Tricia. "We like visitors...it makes practice less hellsome, right Matt?"

Tricia looked over McKenzie to a skinny, blonde boy sitting beside her. He peered over curiously and smiled like the nerd he is. "Your prescense means we get to work less," Matt stated gleefully. He reached out for Tricia's hand, "I'm Matt."

"Tricia," she smiled as their hands moved up and down easily like light weights. "It's a pleasure."

The hour ride to the dance studio was occupied by radio station surfing and arguments about sports, surprisingly. They pulled up to the tan one-floor building and were on the run from the second they parked. Mrs. McCartney yelled something to Jesse, but his mind were too focused about being on time. It says something about your character. With marathon-like speed and stamina, they sprinted down the maroon carpeted-hallway and around the bend to the first studio. They busted through the shiny, brown doors with 6 seconds to spare, panting uncontrollably like dogs.

"You cut it pretty close that time, Jester," Chris stated, not looking up at them and concentrating on his stretching near the mirrors.

"We...always have to make...an entrance," Jesse huffed, bee-lining toward the water bottles calling his name.

"Now that you're here..." Claudia shouted with spirit from across the room, taking her time walking over, "Who are these young ladies?" She asked, narrowing her brown eyes inquiringly and pointing to them.

"Guys," Matt started, relieving Jesse of his duties for the time being. He stood between McKenzie and Tricia, resting his hands on both their shoulders. "This is McKenzie, Jesse's cousin, and her friend Tricia."

Everyone all shook hands and introduced themselves. McKenzie thought the boys were decent, the one standing front row center with the blonde highlights, Greg she thought his name was, was quite a looker.

"So Jesse tells us you're from Virginia," Frankie started, giving himself the once-over in the elongated mirrors clinging tightly against the walls.

"Yep," McKenzie replied, taking a seat on one of the green folding chairs placed there for her conveinence. "Lived there for 5 years."

"Now she's living with me!" Jesse squealed dramatically, grabbing his cousin with friendly intentions in a headlock.

"Watch the hair, now!" McKenzie warned him with a flash of a smile, fishing her small fingers through her short locks.

"My kind of girl," Chris smiled flirtateously, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shifting his weight to one leg. Tricia and McKenzie both rolled their eyes secretly, the thought that the guys were oblivious to their "preference" slipping out of their minds like butter.

"Any girl is your kind of girl," Greg, the silent Bob of the group, retorted with a smirk. His eyes locked with McKenzie's for a few dragging seconds, their eyes hinged together by an unexplainable force of attraction. McKenzie let a shy smile slip from the confined depths of her heart. Greg gazed at her spell-bound, tossing her a sweet smile back.

"I just like to keep my options open," Chris defended himself with fake offense displayed in his face. "Some people aren't as picky as you Italians."

"What are you trying to say, Chris?!" Frankie heatedly asked, rolling up his invisable long-sleeved and taking a macho-man step towards this accuser. "Greg and I can take you out in a second!"

"That's because there's two of you!" Chris declared, pointing out the obvious. Every one shared in a laugh, the noise splintering the uncomfortable shack they were placed in. After 10 more minuetes of chitter-chatter, Claudia broke up the happy group and got them focused on the reason they were in this stuffy, well-worn studio; to dance.

After the first beat hit the smoldering air, the boys feet overtook the magnitude brains, clashing with the floor like angry thunder bolts pound the rain-soaked ground. Their arms flared with double-jointed-like precision as they hit their marks. Sweat drenched their faces, triggering their minds to focus harder and longer. McKenzie and Tricia watched intensely, viewing why the fans throw themselves at them so often. They work hard for what they do. Most guys these days don't have that devotion, that drive to be their best. These guys do.

During the grueling practice, Greg couldn't help his eyes wandering over to McKenzie. They were untrained puppies, not obedient to their owner's harsh demands. McKenzie's deep blue eyes dazzled as she spoke quietly to Tricia, her smile relaxing and tightening at Tricia's responces as both of them scrutenized over the guys. Tricia and McKenzie were holding hands tenderly at one point, dispatching some peculiar questions to Greg's brain.

Claudia snapped her fingers in front of Greg's frozen face and tossed him out of his daze. He had interrupted practice with his lack of participation and Claudia looked dissapointed.

"Are you OK, Greg?" Jesse asked, his voice ripe with consern as he laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Is..." Greg started, his eyes fixaded on McKenzie chatting with Matt, Chris and Frankie during a break, narrowing to the shapes of almonds. McKenzie and Tricia giggled like school girls, no ambition to be misleading to Greg. McKenzie and Tricia's hands were still tied together by the string of young lust, the hand-holding surprisingly not picked up by the other guys. "Are they together?"

Jesse was hesitent to answer, not sure if McKenzie would want him to share personal information with a stranger, well, to her Greg is. Jesse's eyes climbed down to McKenzie and Tricia's linked hands; his mind became clear. "Yeah," Jesse whispered, leaning against a bean fastened to the wood wall behind him. He swallowed a gulp of refreshing water and glanced up at Greg. His eyebrows were erased from their natural position and permenantely painted raised on his forehead, couldn't comprehending that he...he...found a lesbian datable, attractice, sweet. He didn't even know if those were bias thoughts racing through his confused mind. "I know," Jesse sighed, dropping the empty water bottle to the floor, it bouncing with a hallow 'thud.' "I was pretty surprised when she told me." Jesse bent down to tie a snake of his sneaker back into its coils, blowing McKenzie's sexuality off like stale comments from critics with high expectations. Jesse peered up at Greg again, Greg's eyes immoble from McKenzie, a placid expression etched on his face. Jesse knew that look; Chris always had that look milliseconds before he approached a girl he had his hopes set on. You have to have the reflexes of a cat to notice it in Chris, but not Greg, who wears his heart on his sleeve. "Oh no," Jesse moaned, raising slowly from the wax-smeared floor.

"It's nothing, Jess," Greg told him with a counterfeit smile of assurance. "Nothing."