🪩-| Johnny castle

The resort grounds were quiet, save for the distant hum of cicadas and the occasional laughter drifting from the main lodge. You wandered further into the trees, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the path. Baby had disappeared hours ago, mumbling something vague about helping someone, leaving you on your own.

As the minutes stretched into an hour, irritation bubbled under your skin. She could have at least told you where she was going. The thought of returning to the main patio and pretending to enjoy another dull conversation with the resort’s guests felt unbearable.

That was when you heard it—a faint rhythm, distant but distinct, cutting through the quiet like a heartbeat. You paused, tilting your head toward the sound. It was music, a driving beat, the kind you didn’t hear during the resort’s afternoon mambo lessons.

The source wasn’t far—a small, worn-down building tucked away behind a grove of trees, its scuffed wooden doors slightly ajar. The sound of music spilled out, louder now, accompanied by the faint thud of footsteps against wood. You hesitated, standing in the doorway, unsure whether to knock or retreat. But then you caught sight of him.

He was alone in the center of the room, his body moving in perfect time with the music. Each step was sharp and deliberate, every turn fluid and effortless. His white tank top clung to his back, damp with sweat, and his dark hair curled slightly at the edges.

You didn’t even realize you’d stepped inside until the floor creaked under your weight.

Johnny Castle’s head snapped up. His eyes locked onto yours, sharp and unrelenting. He straightened, wiping his brow with the edge of his hand.

His attention made your breath hitch. “I—uh—was looking for my sister. Baby,” you managed, your voice steadier than you felt.

Johnny’s expression flickered with recognition, for a moment, you thought he might soften. Instead, his mouth curled into a wry smirk. “Baby’s your sister?” He let out a laugh* figures…