Chapter 44 – Rest Day 5 (Part 6)
The treehouse buzzed with anticipation and chewed cookies. The flashlights trembled with every sudden movement. Several campers were already seated in a semicircle, while others stared toward the center as if expecting a magical apparition.
Cody, from his improvised throne on a duct-taped chair, held the microphone with theatrical firmness. Owen pointed a green flashlight at his face as if the show depended on it.
"Campers, friends, victims of Chef's breakfast… the moment has arrived," Cody said, with a smile far too wide not to hide mischief. "The dance floor will speak. And the first brave souls will be chosen by our three faithful boxes of destiny."
"Box one ready!" Owen shouted as if activating a volcano alarm.
Cody pulled the first slip of paper with all the drama his arm could muster.
"Format: duo," Cody read, stretching the vowels like casting a spell.
The first nervous laughs bubbled up in the room. Trent adjusted his cap. Harold barely lifted his head. Heather crossed her arms like someone swearing she wouldn't move even if her name came up twenty times.
"Let's get the first names," Cody said, already stirring the second box like he was cooking soup.
He drew one slip. Then another. His eyes lit up with a smile.
"Trent… and Harold," Cody said.
Both boys froze in their seats.
"Excuse me?" Harold murmured, blinking like he'd just received a fine.
"Now already?" Trent asked, adjusting his shirt with the dignity of someone who doesn't remember signing this contract.
"Yes, yes, come on up," Cody said, gesturing with both hands. "Art doesn't wait."
"We're dancing together?" Harold said in a high-pitched voice. "Are you okay with that?"
"I don't have a backup plan," Trent replied, scratching his neck as he walked forward with the steps of a school punishment.
They both stood at the center of the floor, looking at each other like trying to calculate who would faint first.
"And now… the genre," Cody said, reaching into the third box.
Harold swallowed hard. Trent had already accepted his fate, but wasn't exactly embracing it with enthusiasm.
"Pop genre!" Cody read in a radio-announcer tone.
Owen squealed with excitement from the back and grabbed his portable speaker tightly.
"This wasn't clear in the rules!" Harold said, raising a finger like he could stop time.
"There's no… prep?" Trent asked, looking at Cody with silent pleading.
"The music starts now, right?" Harold said, stepping back as if that would stop it.
"In three, two—" Owen said, already pressing the button.
"Cody!" Harold shouted, both hands raised.
And then…
The music began.
The first note of electric strings shook the speaker like the whole camp had a new heartbeat. Cody let out a sharp whistle, waving the microphone like he was at a fictional awards show.
"Oh yes, you hear it! It's Beyoncé, JAY-Z, and a bass line that could revive Chef after his soup!" Cody said from his chair, theatrically pointing at the speakers.
Trent froze.
"This is… too iconic," Trent murmured, stepping back as if he could escape the beat.
Harold rolled his eyes in panic.
"That bass is intimidating me," Harold thought, clutching his belt like it was an emotional seatbelt.
On the floor, they were alone. Alone with their impulses. Alone with Beyoncé.
"The island needed divas, and destiny delivered!" Cody continued, his voice dripping with ironic delight. "Who would've thought? The mysterious vocalist and the sarcasm sensei are about to shine like true pop goddesses."
Applause started even before the first step.
Katie relaxed with the thrill of watching a drama get good.
DJ covered his face, already anticipating disaster or miracle.
Lindsay shouted "That song gives me powers!" with no context whatsoever.
Gwen said nothing.
She just watched.
"Harold won't make it," Gwen thought with a half-smile, "but… Trent might. And Cody is enjoying this way too much."
From the improvised sound booth, Owen swayed his shoulders like he had spare electricity.
"This energy is real! It feels like a Friday wedding with open bar and cousins raising their arms!" Cody shouted, while Harold glared at him.
"Can we… not do this?" Harold murmured.
Trent let out a nervous laugh and shrugged.
"We're already here," Trent said. "I just… don't know how to move my hips without looking like I'm twisting something."
"I don't have hips," Harold replied, as sincere as ever.
The music turned up.
Gwen raised an eyebrow, crossed her legs with interest.
Courtney, from her corner, murmured "I want to see if they survive the first step."
Bridgette already had her phone up, recording.
"Trent! Harold! This is your moment!" Cody said ceremonially. "Take that beat and make it yours. Channel Sasha Fierce, your inner divas, or… Lindsay after coffee. Whatever it takes."
"Who starts?" Harold murmured.
"What if we spin at the same time?" Trent said with cosmic uncertainty.
And then, without warning…
The chorus hit.
The beat dropped hard. Like a wave dragging away common sense.
Trent moved first. Raised his arms, spun around, and dropped to one knee like he knew what he was doing. He didn't. But he faked it so well that for a second, no one doubted.
Harold followed with an exaggerated shoulder shake. One, two, three. He lifted his leg like he was kicking the sky. Ended up falling with arms wide and a spin that, miraculously, didn't break his balance.
"Is he… seducing the ceiling?" Katie said through stifled laughter.
"No, no, this is art!" Owen shouted, waving a flashlight like it was Vegas concert lighting.
Cody stood up immediately.
"And there you have it, campers!" Cody said into the mic. "Two men, one song, and more confidence than Trent has shown in six weeks!"
Trent crossed steps with hands in the air. His hips moved with dramatic intent, and even if the rhythm beat him by half a second, no one questioned it.
Harold, meanwhile, raised both hands and waved them like conjuring butterflies. He stepped forward, spun around, and ended in a half-profile pose that could've been a magazine cover—or a choreographic accident. No one knew.
"I didn't know Harold could move his knees like that!" Leshawna shouted, laughing from the side.
"I didn't know Trent had hips!" Bridgette added, recording everything on her phone.
Lindsay stood up, unable to contain herself.
"He dances better than I do when I'm happy!" Lindsay said, pointing at Harold. "And that's really hard!"
Courtney crossed her arms, but had a restrained smile.
"That's commitment. Or desperation. I'm not sure which I like more," Courtney said.
Gwen, unblinking, watched from her corner. Her fingers moved like she was mentally writing.
"Harold is… a visual problem," Gwen thought. "But Trent… well, if you're going to do it, do it with grace."
The dance floor was now a manifestation of free spirit.
Harold spun again, arm raised, like Beyoncé had spiritually passed him the crown.
Trent crouched, lifted one foot, and ended in a post-apocalyptic diva pose that, to his misfortune, worked.
"That hip is illegal in fifteen states and two municipalities in Ontario!" Cody shouted. "But on this island… it's art!"
And everyone applauded.
But the show wasn't over yet.
The song entered its final minute, but Trent and Harold had already transformed.
Trent slid his feet with movements that had no name but plenty of conviction. Each spin was a mix of poorly rehearsed music video and fever dream of a fashion designer. Harold, meanwhile, spun his arms like choreographic propellers and shook his head with rhythm so precise it was inexplicable.
"They're levitating!" Owen shouted from the back, wielding his flashlight like a magic wand.
"I don't know if I'm proud or confused!" Leshawna said, wiping away a tear of laughter.
Harold stepped forward, did a split that was more of a controlled dive, and ended with one finger pointed to the sky. Trent followed suit: raised both hands, walked to the edge of the improvised stage, and spun on tiptoe—though he misstepped and caught his balance with elegant clumsiness.
"Harold just blessed us with his ancestral diva spirit!" Cody exclaimed into the mic, laughing. "And Trent just invented a move called glamour fall. Write it down!"
The audience didn't wait for the music to end.
DJ clapped to the beat.
Katie and Lindsay shouted names like cheerleaders.
Courtney shook her head, but couldn't hide her smile.
Bridgette dropped her phone to applaud the truth.
And Gwen… Gwen wasn't mentally writing anymore. She just watched, arms crossed, with a crooked smile she didn't try to hide.
"Okay… didn't see that coming," Gwen thought. "But now I don't want it to stop."
The final chorus blasted through the speakers, and both dancers—now soaked in sweat and involuntary glory—struck one last pose together: backs turned, arms crossed, heads tilted.
Silence.
For half a second.
And then, the explosion.
Applause.
Cheers.
Barking from someone not in the scene but who felt the energy from the kitchen.
Even Heather clapped… with one finger, but it was something.
Cody stood and raised both hands to the sky.
"That's how you kick off a tournament, people! With fire in your shoes and Beyoncé in your veins!" Cody shouted.
Trent dropped to his knees, panting.
"I think… my soul hurts," Trent said.
Harold collapsed into a seated position.
"I'm sweating… confidence," Harold said.
They looked at each other without saying a word.
And then they laughed.
Laughed as hard as the rest of the camp.
Not because they were the best.
But because, for one second, they were.
Cody climbed back onto his chair with the microphone in hand and a smile overflowing with enthusiasm. Scattered applause still echoed among the campers, remnants of the spectacle they'd just witnessed.
"Campers…" Cody said, waiting for the murmurs to settle. "What we just witnessed wasn't a simple dance. It wasn't mere improvisation. No. It was a choreographic manifestation of spiritual power!"
Owen waved a towel like he was hyping up a concert.
"Today, here, before our sleepy eyes, two new divas have been crowned," Cody continued, dramatically pacing the platform. "Beyoncé, if you're watching this from your secret refuge atop Olympus… you must be nervous. Very nervous."
Harold looked at him with a face that said "please stop." Trent covered his face with his hands, laughing quietly.
"Because yes, Beyoncé, darling," Cody said in a televangelist tone. "Today, Harold threatened to steal your place, your legacy… and quite possibly your boyfriend. Jay-Z, you have two minutes to respond."
The campers burst into laughter.
"I didn't sign up for this!" Harold shouted from the floor, still sitting like the ground was his new safe space.
"Diva in denial!" Cody replied without missing a beat. "That makes it more believable."
Katie was crying from laughter. Gwen wiped away a tear while shaking her head. Lindsay clapped like she was at a runway show.
Cody consulted a folded card, as if the next act were a date with destiny.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen…" Cody said mysteriously. "The next pair will be chosen by the Box of Chaos and the Dice of Poorly Thought-Out Decisions™."
"Let's go all in!" Owen shouted, tossing a napkin into the air like confetti.
"Who will fall now into the hands of treacherous rhythm? Who will be possessed by the spirit of offbeat reggaeton or tragic-faced waltz?" Cody asked, slowly spinning in his chair.
"Let the cards speak," Cody finally said, solemnly reaching into the first box… with a wink that promised glorious disasters.
Cody spun theatrically in his chair and raised the microphone with renewed energy.
"And we continue, campers! After surviving the most divine choreography ever executed by two disoriented boys, it's time to feed the soul with… more dance chaos," Cody said, rummaging through the Box of Destiny with the hands of a cheap magician.
Owen banged the edge of a pot with a spoon as if that helped mix the papers inside.
Cody pulled out a card and held it up.
"Format: duo!" Cody exclaimed with the excitement of someone who knew exactly what was coming.
Several campers tensed. Gwen raised an eyebrow. Leshawna murmured something like "this is about to get juicy." Bridgette turned her head, alert. Cody was already reaching into the name box, stirring it like he was cooking luck with spices.
"And the ones chosen by the invisible hand of choreographic improvisation are…" Cody said, pausing for effect.
"Noah… and Katie," Cody said.
Total silence.
Then, glances.
All the glances.
Turned toward Cody with a mix of astonishment, suspicion, and soap-opera-level drama.
Courtney squinted. Gwen slowly turned her head with a crooked smile. Owen simply raised both thumbs without knowing why.
"Seriously?" Noah said, frozen.
Katie covered her mouth with both hands, slowly sinking into her seat as if trying to become part of the floor.
"What? Me? Him? Us?" Katie murmured.
"Whoa!" Cody said, placing a hand on his chest. "Are you suggesting this is rigged? Me, manipulating results for emotional comedy? Never! The box spoke… and I'm just its humble messenger."
No one believed him.
He didn't seem to care.
"Now, our musical genre," Cody said, raising another slip. "Passion, touch, sensual spin… it's bachata, ladies and gentlemen!"
Several campers screamed.
Katie froze.
Noah stood up like he'd been called to the dentist.
"I don't…" Noah began, but Cody was already stepping down from the stage.
"With energy!" Cody said, gently pushing him toward the floor. "Come on, sarcasm champion. Show us what else you can move."
Owen jumped from his seat to help, pushing Noah from behind with the enthusiasm of someone unafraid of consequences.
"No fear of eye contact!" Owen shouted, laughing.
Izzy grabbed Katie's arm like it was a double date at a medieval fair and led her to the center amid laughter and whispers of "this is going to be so awkward it'll loop around and become art."
Katie and Noah stood face to face.
They didn't look at each other.
They didn't know where to put their hands.
"Can we get a second to… I don't know, not panic?" Noah said, lowering his voice.
"Breathe," Katie whispered. "It's just… bachata. They do it at weddings. I think."
"Yeah, weddings where no one's watching me," Noah replied, crossing his arms.
Cody was already back at the mic.
"And now… a moment no one asked for, but everyone needed. Two young souls, a rhythm that doesn't forgive, and an unnecessary amount of anticipated sweat," Cody said, pacing ceremonially.
Gwen leaned toward Leshawna.
"Is this happening?" Gwen asked.
"I literally don't know if I want it to work or fail in slow motion," Leshawna replied.
"Owen, drop the track!" Cody finally said, raising a hand like summoning the rhythm.
"With pleasure!" Owen shouted, pressing the speaker button like he was activating a social butterfly bomb.
And just then…
the track began.
The floor barely vibrated with the first chord.
It wasn't immediate. It wasn't loud.
It was like the sound crawled from some forgotten corner of the Caribbean, wrapping the camp in a soft, almost sensual rhythm. The guitar marked just a few notes, as if testing the waters before declaring itself.
Katie blinked, confused.
Noah raised an eyebrow.
And then…
Cody took a deep breath.
And began to sing.
"Hola
Me llaman Romeo
Es un placer conocerla"
Absolute silence.
More than silence—containment.
As if everyone were waiting for the joke to reveal itself.
But Cody didn't stop.
He took two steps forward. His voice, soft but steady, flowed like an imminent surprise. The microphone crackled with his tone.
It was romantic.
It was dramatic.
And somehow… it worked.
"Qué bien te ves
Te adelanto, no me importa quién sea él
Dígame usted
Si ha hecho algo travieso alguna vez
Una aventura es más divertida
Si huele a peligro"
Katie's eyes flew wide open, her hands instinctively rising to her chest.
"Is he… seriously singing that?" Katie whispered, barely audible.
Noah tensed like a statue.
He looked around. No one was coming to save him.
Cody, oblivious or deliberately blind, kept going.
"Si te invita a una copa y me acerca a tu boca
Si te robo un besito, a ver, ¿te enojas conmigo?
¿Qué dirías si esta noche te seduzco en mi coche?
Que se empañen los vidrios y la regla es que goces
Si te falto el respeto y luego culpo al alcohol
Si levanto tu falda, ¿me darías el derecho?
A medir tu sensatez?
Poner en juego tu cuerpo
Si te parece prudente
Esta propuesta indecente"
From the back, Owen waved his arms like he was in a soap opera.
"BRO, NO! I CAN'T BREATHE!" Owen shouted, though he didn't look away.
Leshawna opened a cookie without breaking rhythm.
Courtney, arms crossed, frowned with suspicion.
"This is emotional manipulation," Courtney thought. "And… it's working."
Meanwhile, Gwen kept watching from the shadows, lips pursed, eyes locked on the scene. She didn't blink.
"Of course. Now he's Cupid," Gwen thought. "The guy writes jokes, dances like he doesn't care, and on top of that, he's a good friend…"
Cody walked across the floor with refined elegance. He didn't exaggerate his gestures. He wasn't acting like a clown.
He was Cody… but contained.
Cody, the romantic.
Cody, the one who used a microphone to change the air.
He passed by Izzy, who looked at him with glassy eyes and murmured, "That was poetic!" before falling backward onto an inflatable mat.
Bridgette was stunned.
"Is this real? This… this is working," Bridgette said.
Lindsay, thrilled, brought her hands to her face.
"He sounds like those perfume commercial singers! The ones who cry while staring out the window!" Lindsay said.
In the center, Noah still hadn't moved.
"Cody is singing me a bachata," Noah thought, unable to process.
"He's singing me a bachata while everyone watches.
He's singing me a bachata and I have to… dance?"
Katie glanced at him sideways.
Red. Silent.
But her lips trembled as if she were holding back laughter… or something else.
Cody stopped in front of them.
He gently pointed the microphone at them.
And repeated:
"Un ver, un ver
Permíteme apreciar tu desnudez (quítatelo)
Relájate
Que este Martini calmará tu timidez (no seas tímido)
Y una aventura es más divertida
Si huele a peligro"
That was the moment.
The air shifted.
Katie slowly lowered her hands.
Noah looked resigned, like accepting his fate in a midday soap opera.
"Okay," Noah murmured, slowly turning toward her. "I guess we can't run anymore."
"I guess not," Katie said, taking half a step toward him.
Cody lowered his voice, his tone now almost a whisper, as if the entire camp depended on that song.
"Si te invita a una copa y me acerca a tu boca
Si te robo un besito, a ver, ¿te enojas conmigo?
¿Qué dirías si esta noche te seduzco en mi coche?
Que se empañen los vidrios y la regla es que goces
Si te falto el respeto y luego culpo al alcohol
Si levanto tu falda, ¿me darías el derecho?
A medir tu sensatez?
Poner en juego tu cuerpo
Si te parece prudente
Esta propuesta indecente"
The guitar swelled.
The rhythm settled.
The song was about to erupt.
Cody looked one last time toward the audience.
And like an actor who knows the power of his scene, he shouted:
"Campers… prepare yourselves for the least prepared and most adorable duet in history!"
The track rose in volume.
The bachata rhythm took hold.
And Katie…
took the first step.
Katie cautiously extended a hand.
Noah looked at it like he was facing an emotional emergency button.
They had no idea what they were doing.
That was obvious.
But the music continued, and Cody's voice floated through the air with the confidence of someone unafraid of looking ridiculous.
"Ya estoy de vuelta
Se siente bien ser rey
Gostoso
Ey
Escuchar
Sé lo que te gusta."
The guitar marked the beat clearly, that rhythm of three steps and a sigh.
Noah placed his hand on Katie's waist with almost comical awkwardness, like someone trying to pitch a tent without instructions.
"This is weird," Noah murmured.
"It's bachata," Katie said with a nervous smile. "I think it always starts like this."
They took the first step. Slow. Uncoordinated.
It wasn't pretty.
But it wasn't a disaster.
Everyone's eyes stayed fixed on them.
Gwen watched from her spot, leaning against a wooden column, arms crossed.
"He's going to trip," she thought, still watching.
"And if he doesn't… then I take back everything I thought I knew about today."
Cody paced around them like a musical spirit, narrating the scene with rhythm:
"¿Qué tal si tú y yo, yo y tú?
¿Bailamos bachata?
Y luego tú y yo, yo y tú
¿Terminamos en la cama? (Que rico)
¿Qué tal si tú y yo, tú y yo?
¿Bailamos bachata? (Ay bailamos bachata)
Y luego tú y yo, yo y tú
¿Terminamos en la cama? (Terminamos en la cama)"
Bridgette wasn't recording anymore.
She just watched.
Courtney frowned, but it was clear she was… intrigued.
"Since when do those two have chemistry?" she thought.
Katie stepped back gently.
Noah followed, this time without stumbling.
Their eyes met.
For a second, both seemed surprised the other was still there, so close.
The second step was more natural.
Then the third.
And without anyone knowing how, they were truly dancing.
Not with skill.
But with honesty.
Harold, from a corner, watched with his mouth open.
"Is that… real? I was a diva five minutes ago!" Harold said.
Leshawna blushed to herself.
"That's emotional rhythm. That… hurts beautifully," Leshawna said.
"¿Qué tal si tú y yo (tú y yo)
Tú y yo (Tú y yo)
Tú y yo (Tú y yo)
Tú y yo (Tú)
Tú y yo (Tú y yo)
Yo y tú (soy un chico malo)
Tú y yo (Tú)"
The melody dipped for a few seconds, as if giving them space to speak with their bodies.
Katie placed a hand on Noah's shoulder with more confidence.
He didn't pull away.
He stepped closer.
"Are we still pretending this isn't happening?" Noah whispered.
"If you mean dancing without crashing, yes. Let's keep going," Katie murmured, looking at her feet.
But they weren't looking at their feet anymore.
They were looking into each other's eyes.
Owen cried with laughter, but also murmured, "They're cute, admit they're cute."
Lindsay seemed to be in a trance.
"They're the movie!" Lindsay said. "They're the trailer, the poster… the scene in slow motion with fireworks!"
"¿Qué tal si tú y yo (tú y yo)
Tú y yo (Tú y yo)
Tú y yo (Tú y yo)
Tú y yo (Tú)
Tú y yo (Tú y yo)
Yo y tú (soy un chico malo)
Tú y yo (Tú)"
And then, the music rose again.
And their steps no longer felt like rehearsal.
They moved with unexpected ease, driven not by technique, but by the feeling that… if they didn't hold on now, they'd fall.
The rest of the camp held its breath.
And Cody, never missing a beat, walked around them like a narrator who had orchestrated something bigger than himself.
Gwen leaned slightly forward.
Bridgette placed a hand over her chest.
Courtney closed her eyes, for just a second.
And just as the track hinted at its closing…
Katie and Noah were, without realizing it, dancing alone in the world.
The song slowly descended, as if breathing with them. The chords softened, but kept the pulse. A pulse that didn't come just from the rhythm, but from the moment itself—formed around Katie and Noah like an invisible bubble.
Now it didn't feel like a competition.
It didn't feel like improvisation.
It felt like a confession choreographed by the
Cody walked in circles with the microphone in hand, still singing, but his voice had softened, almost whispering, as if he knew he no longer needed to push anything. Just let it happen.
Katie held Noah's hand—not tightly, but gently, as if she didn't want to break the moment.
Noah kept his other hand on her waist, less tense than before, more natural, more… present.
Their steps followed the rhythm without thinking. There was no technique or pattern. There was skin. There was closeness.
"Is this… happening?" Katie thought, feeling her inner voice dissolve into the rhythm.
"Am I okay with this? Because everything in my body says yes, but my brain is way too busy processing it," Noah thought, looking into her eyes for a moment longer than usual.
The lights were dim, just reflections. The shadows of the other campers formed a kind of static audience, as if no one wanted to interrupt even with a sigh.
From the back, Gwen leaned against one of the tree's columns.
"Okay. That was a real look," she thought, staring at Noah.
Bridgette tilted her head, wearing the soft smile of someone who didn't need to say anything.
Courtney looked confused. As if she wanted to find a reason to mock it… but couldn't.
Izzy murmured something about butterflies and pollen. Lindsay cried quietly.
Owen had sat down… but with his hands clasped in front of his mouth, like he was watching a movie ending he didn't know he needed.
And Cody…
Cody wasn't just singing.
Cody was living inside the song.
His gaze moved across each face as he sang those lines, and when his eyes returned to Katie and Noah, something in his expression softened—like a smile he didn't know he had.
The music dropped even lower.
The final verse approached.
Katie and Noah looked at each other.
Not like at the beginning.
Not like two awkward friends dragged onto a dance floor.
Now…
they looked at each other with a different question.
"Are we going to leave this hanging… or seal it?"
There was no external cue.
No countdown or key phrase.
Just the nudge.
Cody, still singing, passed behind Noah with a half-smile.
He gave him a gentle push, barely symbolic.
A push that didn't move the body.
It moved the story.
And the world… shrank for an instant.
Noah stumbled half a step toward Katie.
She was already waiting.
Their faces met in the middle of the musical silence.
And without preamble, without theatrics…
they kissed.
—
It wasn't long.
It wasn't exaggerated.
But it was perfect.
Because everyone knew—without knowing how they knew—that it wasn't part of the show.
It wasn't scripted.
It wasn't a stunt.
It was the truth.
A soft murmur rippled through the campers like an expanding echo.
Leshawna let out a gentle "ooohh."
Gwen said nothing.
Bridgette smiled with closed lips, as if she knew not to break the magic.
Heather pressed her lips… but didn't criticize.
Courtney leaned back with a neutral expression… but not a cynical one.
And then…
the applause erupted.
Like rain. Like joy without warning.
Applause, whistles, sweet laughter.
No mockery.
No discomfort.
Solo celebration.
Katie brought a hand to her lips, as if she couldn't believe what had just happened.
Noah turned toward Cody as if to say something… but just lowered his gaze and smiled.
Cody raised both arms.
Let his voice end with the final soft chord.
And then, with the tone of a presenter both thrilled and satisfied:
"Thank you, Romeo. Thank you, bachata. And thank you, campers… for letting me witness the birth of a new couple… or at least a great story," Cody said.
Katie and Noah remained standing at the center.
They no longer knew what to do with their hands.
But it didn't matter.
Because for one second, they were just them.
And the rest of the camp… smiled with them.
The applause still echoed through the camp when the music finally faded, like a candle that knows when to stop burning.
Katie and Noah remained in the center, motionless, wrapped in a mix of laughter, embarrassment, and something else neither of them could label yet.
Their hands no longer touched, but neither seemed eager to pull away.
Cody, still holding the microphone, seized the emotion like a good host with stage instinct.
"Well, well… I don't know about you, but I need a towel, a glass of wine, and couples therapy just by association," Cody said, walking toward the center as if the show hadn't ended. "Because what we just saw… was history. With a side step."
Katie covered her face, laughing.
"Never mention it again," she said, eyes glassy from suppressed laughter.
"I'm sure Owen already wrote a ballad about this," Noah murmured, not daring to look at anyone.
"I'm composing it in my head right now!" Owen shouted, waving an invisible pencil. "It's going to be called Bachata with a Kiss and a Cookie."
Leshawna leaned toward Bridgette and whispered something that made them both burst into giggles.
Courtney, meanwhile, pretended to review the tournament rules in a notebook, though she wasn't writing a single word.
Heather turned to Gwen, breaking the awkward silence between them with a single word.
"Pathetic."
But Gwen noticed Heather had been more attentive than usual.
And she didn't say it with venom.
She said it with… something closer to unease.
"Shut up, Heather," Gwen replied, not taking her eyes off Noah and Katie, who were walking back to their seats still unsure whether to separate or stay close a little longer.
Gwen thought silently, as if sorting things in her head.
"Cody sings. Noah kisses. What's next? Izzy teaching algebra?"
Bridgette, meanwhile, leaned toward DJ.
"Have you ever seen Noah… soft?" Bridgette asked.
"Noah's not soft. Noah's a smart rock with good lines. Today he was warm lava," DJ said, crossing his arms like someone unsure whether to clap again or bow.
"I want a dance partner like that!" Lindsay shouted from the side.
"One that kisses you?" Owen asked.
"No! One that looks at me the way Noah was looking at her!" Lindsay said, miming dramatic romance and glancing sideways at Cody.
Cody climbed back onto his chair, crossing his legs with theatrical flair.
"And so, dear spectators of unexpected love, we close round two with flushed cheeks, sweaty backs, and new questions in the air. Questions like: Are they dating? Was it impulse? Did someone record it? The answer is yes. To all of it," Cody said.
"I got it all!" Izzy shouted, showing her phone with a mix of pride and chaos.
Katie and Noah sat side by side. Neither spoke. Neither moved away. And somehow, they didn't need to.
"That wasn't in any rule," Noah said, half-smiling.
"Yeah, it wasn't," Katie said, crossing her legs and looking ahead.
The group's attention lingered on them, though it slowly dispersed like mist fading in sunlight.
And Cody, raising the microphone one last time before diving back into the chaos, ended with a phrase woven with spectacle and sincerity:
"Campers… if the dance floor could already ignite hearts, today we discovered it can also confuse them. And that, my friends… is narrative gold."
The crowd laughed, applauded one last time.
And with that, the dust of the kiss settled.
But the romantic tension—that—was just beginning to warm the edges of what was yet to come.