The first time I saw her, I almost couldn't believe my eyes.

She was beautiful. So beautiful, that she nearly looked fake. Like she was a figurine that sprang to life, like Tyra Banks in that one Disney movie except this girl was so outrageously gorgeous. She laughed jovially as she sauntered through the square, flanked on either side by two boys that were easily two heads taller than her. She looked up at the one on her left with such an intense blue gaze that I, even at my distance, was mesmerized.

She parted plump pink lips to tell him something and he retaliated with a shove, pushing her into the guy on her other side who flushed and was quick to put distance between the two of them. She rolled her eyes at his display as he waved awkwardly, and they parted ways: the awkward man going inside the cafeteria building, the beautiful girl and her friend toward the parking lot, leaving me alone where I stood in the center of the commons with a blush on my cheeks and my food forgotten in my hands.

The second time I saw her, I didn't immediately know it was her but I was equally as mesmerized.

She wore a sequined leotard that left nothing to the imagination but there was no discomfort or unease on her face as she danced, flipped, spun, bounced, and ran across the trampoline floor in the corner of the gym. As she left that apparatus for the uneven bars, she hardly broke a sweat, her breath as even as if she'd just walked from her class to her car.

I watched her, my boots dangling from my hands and my skirt tickling the back of my thighs. She flew through the air like a leaf in the wind, breezing from one bar to the other without any apparent difficulty at all. It was with a determined air that I finally looked away to walk towards the skating rink in the second half of the building, looking away from the girl's toned thighs and velvety brown skin dusted with chalk, listening with an intense gaze to who was presumably her coach. As I glanced one more time at her, though, her eyes looked around and met mine, and for an instant it was as if her blue gaze and my green locked together.

She smiled at me with a bright, shiny teeth and I somehow managed to reciprocate the gesture before turning the corner.

The third time I saw her, I was in the middle of practicing a routine when I made the mistake of glancing towards the audience and seeing her intense blue eyes. I stilled the butterflies fluttering around in my chest and fought to finish my set, but that didn't erase the nervousness that quickened my pace. My coach continued to hurl pieces of advice at me, clapping in rhythm to help me maintain my speed. When I finished up, freezing as my routine came to an end and then gliding towards the sidelines, I refused to glance at the audience where a deafening cheer was echoing around the empty stadium.

"Who is that?" my coach asked, and I kept my head low, busying myself with putting the guards on my skates.

"One of the gymnasts," I muttered.

She continued on, but her words went right past me and she trailed off - when I looked back up, the girl was standing in front of me, her eyes bright and her dark cheeks flushed.

"You're Asami, right?" she asked, her - surprisingly husky - voice trilling nervously. "I've seen you around on campus, but I've never, uh," she ran a hand through her hair, flashing a smile at me, "I've never had the courage to talk to you.

I extended a hand out to her, watching out of the side of my eye as my coach drifted away from us. "Asami Sato," I introduced myself, and her smile - if it was even possible - widened.

"I'm Korra Takotna!" she told me, and then her eyes went round as she looked back at the rink. "Your routine was - well, it was beautiful! I wish I had your grace, but I'm all strength. I've been taking ballet to see if that'll help me out, but so far it's been a lost cause. Technically, I'm flawless, or so my coach tells me, but I'm too jerky, you know? I go from one exercise to another but there's no flow…."

Korra looked back up at me and quieted, but I smiled at her encouragingly. "I was watching some of your apparatuses a while back, and it was almost like you - well, on uneven bars, it was like you were flying between them. It didn't seem jerky at all. And on floor, you were beautiful, I mean, honestly."

"Floor is my worst apparatus," she admitted sheepishly. "I use too much force and overshoot myself.

I shook my head. "But that isn't a bad thing! You can use that strength in your favor."

Korra eyed me and then the watch on her wrist.

"It's kinda last minute," she began, "but would you, uh, like to go out for dinner?" she asked.

Inside my stomach the butterflies erupted once again, and I fought a nervous giggle as I nodded my head. "I'd love to, but we should maybe change first."

Korra looked down at her leotard (today a long-sleeved sky blue bodice with white sequin accents along the chest) and at my own dress (deep red with a yellow and red skirt that mimicked fire as I twirled) before she, once again, ran a hand through her hair. With a grin, she replied, "You mean the pizza guys won't like all of this raw, unadulterated power traipsing through their lobby?"