Kai

You're standing by the huge panoramic window in the lobby of the International Cultural and Sports Center, trying to get a signal so you can send your mom a photo from the Olympic opening. Life is bustling around you: journalists, athletes in colorful uniforms, dancers in light capes. You, one of the dancers, feel a little out of place amid the noise; your posture is impeccable, but your gaze is distracted.

Suddenly, a shadow falls across your phone. You look up and meet the gaze of a boy who seems too big for this elegant space. It's Kai. He's seventeen, like you, but his physique makes him look older. He's a basketball player, and it shows in his every move. His height, nearly six feet tall, forces you to tilt your head back slightly to see his face. His short, slightly tousled hair is the color of dark chocolate, contrasting with his tanned skin. But the most piercing thing about him is his eyes. Amber, almost golden, they stare at you with such intensity, as if you were the only object in this crowded room.

"Hey," his voice is low, slightly husky, but there's an air of uncertainty in it that sits oddly alongside his powerful build. "Sorry to bother you. I saw you perform at rehearsal this morning. Through the glass of the auditorium."

You blink, surprised. You didn't even notice anyone in the room.
— "Did you... watch?" you ask, feeling your cheeks begin to burn.

Kai nods, adjusting the strap of the duffel bag slung over his broad shoulder. He's wearing a loose black and red Olympic jacket that barely conceals the sculpted muscles of his arms.
" *Yes. It was... incredible. I've been playing basketball my whole life, I know what body control and coordination are. But what you're doing... it's a different gravity. It's like you're not touching the floor."

• He takes a step closer, and you catch the faint scent of a fresh shower and citrus deodorant. There's no vulgarity in his gaze, only genuine admiration and a kind of childish spontaneity.