19 | push and pull

PUSH AND PULL

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The speakers crackled as Diana restarted the track, the sharp strings of the Cell Block Tango slicing through the studio air.

"Remember," she told Grayson, her eyes locked on his in the mirror. "This dance is about control. We're in a constant tug-of-war. It's hot, it's sexy, but it's also dangerous. You're trying to dominate me, I'm trying to dominate you. That tension is everything."

Grayson smirked, rolling his shoulders back. "Sounds like fun."

"It's not fun," Diana shot back, though the corner of her mouth tugged upward. "It's theater. Every touch has to mean something. Every step has to feel like it could tip the scale."

They took their positions. The music swelled.

He caught her hand and yanked her forward, their bodies colliding with a sharpness that made the air pop. She slid into the hold, her head snapping to the side with precision, refusing to let him have the last word. He pivoted hard, dragging her across the floor, but she spun out and whipped back into him, their connection snapping like elastic.

When he pressed her low into a dip, her back arched, her hair brushing the floor. She clawed her way up his chest, reclaiming the power with her touch. His hand skimmed her thigh as he pulled her upright, fingers grazing high before snapping back into the frame.

They pivoted sharply, her heel slicing across the floor as he spun her into an ocho. Her leg hooked against his hip for a fleeting second, before he shoved her out into a fan kick.

The music stopped. Both of them froze in the ending pose — Diana's chest heaving, Grayson's grip firm around her waist.

"Better," Diana said between breaths, shaking out her arms. "Let's go again."

After a few more run-throughs, she finally called for a break. Her body was hot with exertion, sweat sticking to the back of her neck. She collapsed onto the couch by the mirror, reaching for her phone.

A flood of new notifications lit up her lock screen. She unlocked it, a grin spreading across her face.

today 1:13 PM

you ever end up watching that movie I told you about?

not yetI've been too busy 😅 but it's on my list

wow... fake friend behavior 👀

oh please 😂 what was it again?

rude. you clearly weren't listening

malachiI have the memory of a goldfish 🐠 just remind me

fineKnives Out watch it so we can debate who the best character is

dealbut I'm already calling dibs on Chris Evan's character

ok fine, I'll let that slidebut only cause I like you

Her shoulders relaxed as she leaned back against the cushions, a warmth filling her chest that had nothing to do with the sweat from rehearsal. Texting with Malachi was easy. Effortless. He always knew how to make her laugh, even in the middle of a grueling day.

What she didn't notice was Grayson, across the room, toweling off his face and watching her. The way her smile curled at her phone, the way she shook her head like she was trying to hide how much she was grinning — it made his jaw tighten.

He didn't say a word.

But when he set his water bottle down and walked back onto the floor, something had shifted in him.

The music started again.

Grayson seized her wrist with more force than before, yanking her into frame. His hand branded her lower back, pressing her flush against him as he drove her backward across the floor. The pressure in his lead was undeniable, almost overwhelming.

Diana tried to counter, throwing her leg around his in a sharp gancho, her heel catching against his thigh. But instead of loosening, he tightened his grip and spun her hard, forcing her into a back-bend so deep her breath caught.

He pulled her up, his hand dragging across her ribcage before snapping her against his chest again. His breath was ragged, his stare unrelenting.

Every movement was bigger, sharper, more demanding. When he slid his hand along her arm, it lingered past the beat, his fingertips brushing the inside of her elbow before snapping away. When he turned her, he held her hip a fraction too long, his palm flattening against her stomach as he pivoted her around.

She tried to match his intensity, but there was a new edge in his dancing — something that felt less like performance and more like possession.

The music reached its climax. Grayson dipped her low, his hand firm at her thigh, his face hovering close enough that his breath skimmed her lips. Her heart hammered in her chest, a flush crawling up her neck.

When the last note hit, they froze. His hand still clamped tight around her waist. Her body still arched back, trembling slightly.

The silence pressed in around them.

Grayson didn't break eye contact. His chest rose and fell sharply, his jaw set. "Was that hot enough?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

Diana finally pulled herself upright, breathless. "Y-Yeah. That's... perfect," she stammered, reaching quickly for her water.

Grayson didn't move. He just smirked, slow and deliberate, watching her retreat.

And Diana, flustered and dizzy, tried to understand what just happened.

graysonholt just posted a tiktok !

Grayson Holt  • 10-12things are heating up 😉                    ♥️    @Diana Sinclair   629k                                                                💬                                                              9,402

userthe sun was a paid actor

usery'all are so hot

Diana Sinclair🤭

Ezra Sosahot hot hot

usermy favorite couple both on and off the floor 😉

user they are totally together

user#teamgrayson liked by creator

usernot him stirring the drama

user wonder how malachis feeling

The studio smelled faintly of perfume, sweat, and the ever-present tang of coffee someone had left forgotten in a corner. It was another long rehearsal day, the kind that stretched endlessly, broken only by the rhythm of music blasting from the speakers and the occasional laughter from the camera crew lingering at the edges of the room.

Diana and Grayson had been working through their Argentine Tango again. The music of Cell Block Tango pulsed through the studio, dramatic and sharp, every beat daring them to keep the tension alive. For once, the dance had been flowing. Their footwork was cleaner than the day before, their chemistry sharper. Diana's corrections were landing, and Grayson was listening.

When the track ended, Diana let herself fall out of character, chest rising and falling as she laughed lightly. "Okay, that was actually really solid."

Grayson dropped onto the couch pushed against the far wall, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. He looked exhausted, though there was still that flicker of pride in his eyes.

"Let's take a ten minute break," Diana announced, clapping her hands before turning toward the camera crew hovering nearby. She checked to make sure that they got all the footage they needed. The crew nodded and started packing up their equipment.

On the couch, Grayson leaned back, eyes heavy-lidded as he tried to catch his breath. He wiped his face with the hem of his shirt, then dropped it, staring blankly at the ceiling. That was when a soft buzz broke through the noise.

At first, he ignored it—probably one of the crew's phones. But then it buzzed again, louder, closer. His eyes dropped, and there, sitting on the arm of the couch, was Diana's phone. The screen lit up with a bright notification.

Incoming FaceTime Call: Starboy💫

The name itself made his eyebrows twitch. But when his eyes dropped to the tiny profile picture flashing on the screen, his stomach tightened. Malachi.

Grayson's jaw flexed. His hand moved before his brain could stop it, fingers curling around the phone and pulling it into his palm. He stared at it, the FaceTime icon bouncing, the seconds ticking by.

When Diana walked back over, wiping her forehead with a towel, she froze mid-step. Her eyes landed on the sight of him holding her phone, his knuckles white against the case.

"What's wrong?" she asked carefully, her voice laced with unease.

Grayson turned the phone toward her, the glowing screen revealing the still-bouncing call. "What's this?" His tone was sharp but low, controlled in that dangerous way. "He's facetiming you. Right now. In the middle of rehearsal."

Diana's eyes flicked to the screen, then back to Grayson. She let out a long sigh, pressing her lips together. "It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Grayson repeated, disbelief heavy in his voice. His jaw ticked again as he shook his head. "He knows you're in rehearsal right now, Diana. Why would he be calling you like this?"

Diana shifted her towel to one shoulder, trying to keep her voice even. "He probably forgot. Malachi tends to do that sometimes." She gave a small, nervous laugh, hoping to lighten the mood. "Honestly, I wouldn't read into it."

Grayson wasn't buying it. His eyes flicked back to the glowing screen. The call was still buzzing, his thumb hovering dangerously over the screen. Then, with a swift motion, he pressed decline. The screen went dark.

"Grayson!" Diana's voice rose in shock, her brows furrowing as she lunged forward. "Why did you do that?"

His eyes snapped up to hers, frustration sharp in his gaze. "Because you don't need to be distracted during rehearsals."

"Distracted?" Diana scoffed, incredulous. "I wasn't even on my phone! You grabbed it, not me."

His chest rose and fell as he exhaled, trying to stay calm but clearly simmering underneath. "You know what I mean. This—" he gestured toward her phone "—it throws off focus. We have too much at stake to let things like this get in the way."

Diana shook her head, anger pricking at the edges of her calm. "You didn't have to decline it. You could've just let it ring. That wasn't your decision to make."

When she reached for her phone, he held it for just a second too long before finally letting go. Diana snatched it back, hugging it close to her chest.

"You don't have the right to touch my stuff like that, Grayson," she said, her voice sharper now. "It's not your place."

He let out a heavy huff, the kind that carried more frustration than apology. "I'm sorry," he muttered, though the word lacked real weight. His shoulders slumped as he pushed himself off the couch. "I'm gonna grab a snack."

And just like that, he walked out, the studio door swinging closed behind him.

The sudden silence that followed felt heavy. Diana stood there, clutching her phone, her heart pounding in her chest. The water bottle in her other hand suddenly felt too heavy, her throat too tight.

She blinked rapidly, willing the sting in her eyes to go away, but the tears still pooled. She was starting to notice a pattern. One second, they were fine. Better than fine. They were laughing, working hard, syncing up in rehearsals. And then—snap—it all flipped. He was angry, she was defensive, and suddenly, the air between them was thick with tension.

Sinking onto the couch, Diana set her phone down gently in her lap. Her chest rose and fell shakily, her mind racing. She thought of Malachi's goofy texts from the night before, the way he always managed to make her laugh. She thought of the ease in their friendship, the way it didn't feel like walking on eggshells.

And then she thought of Grayson—how bright his smile could be when things were good, how much fun they'd had when he wasn't caught up in his own head. That side of him made it hard to just walk away. But lately, the other side... the side that tightened his jaw and his grip when Malachi's name came up, the side that crossed boundaries with her phone...

Her throat burned. She tipped her head back against the couch and closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

The sound of the vending machine clunk echoed through the quiet studio hallway before the door creaked open again. Grayson stepped back inside, a bag of pretzels in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, looking every bit like he'd just returned from an errand and not from an argument that had left Diana's chest tight and her thoughts in disarray.

Diana sat perched on the edge of the couch, her phone still resting in her lap. She hadn't touched it since she yanked it out of his hand, her thumb hovering over the screen more than once but never daring to unlock it. The sight of his fingers holding her phone—declining Malachi's call without a second thought—played over in her mind like a reel she couldn't stop.

But then there was Grayson, walking back in as though the last ten minutes hadn't happened, tearing open the corner of the pretzel bag.

"Want some?" he asked casually, holding the bag out toward her.

Diana blinked. For a second, she thought she might have misheard him. His tone was light, relaxed, like they were just two dance partners grabbing a snack before running through choreography again.

"No, thanks," she said quietly.

"More for me," he grinned, popping a pretzel in his mouth before dropping onto the couch beside her. He leaned back, stretched his legs out in front of him, and let out a long sigh like he was just another guy winding down after a workout.

The contrast made Diana's stomach twist. How could he act like nothing had just happened?

She glanced at him, biting the inside of her cheek. She wanted to bring it up—wanted to remind him that what he'd done wasn't okay, that it wasn't his place to touch her phone or decide which calls she could or couldn't answer. But before she could even open her mouth, Grayson spoke.

"So," he began, brushing salt off his fingertips onto his black joggers, "are you doing anything tomorrow night?"

Diana froze. The question was so casual, so unexpected, that it threw her completely off track. "Tomorrow night?" she echoed.

He nodded, his hazel eyes flicking toward her. "Yeah. You busy?"

"I don't... I don't think so," she said slowly, still processing the sudden shift in topic. "Why?"

His lips curved into a smile, the kind that was boyishly excited, almost mischievous. "There's a premiere I'm going to. Big deal, red carpet, cameras, the whole thing. I get a plus-one." He paused for effect before adding, "Wanna be mine?"

Diana blinked again, surprised. A premiere? As his plus-one? That was... more than just an invite to hang out. That was stepping into the public eye with him, arm in arm, the kind of thing that fans would instantly latch onto.

"I—" she started, hesitating.

He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice as if letting her in on a secret. "It's gonna be fun, I promise. Just a night to let loose. Glam, cameras, popcorn, free swag—you know the deal."

Diana swallowed, her mind spinning. Part of her wanted to say no, to put a little space between them after what had just happened. But another part of her—the part that remembered how much effort they had both been putting into their tango, how much pressure they were under—didn't want to create more tension. If she said no, it would feel like she was rejecting him. If she said yes, maybe things would smooth over.

She forced a small smile and nodded. "Okay. Yeah. I'll go."

The way his face lit up made her chest squeeze. His grin widened as he reached over and bumped her shoulder lightly with his. "Knew you'd say yes. It's gonna be a blast."

She let out a small laugh, though it felt forced.

For a moment, they sat there in silence, the weight of her decision pressing down on her. She wanted to circle back, to bring up what had just happened with her phone, to explain how it made her feel.

"Grayson," she began softly, turning toward him.

But before she could go further, he shook his head, interrupting her. "Hey," he said quickly, his tone still light but edged with firmness, "let's not do that. Let's not go back to earlier."

Diana's lips parted in surprise.

He reached for another pretzel and gave her a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. "We should just forget it. Focus on what's to come. Tomorrow's gonna be great. The dance is coming along. We're good."

Forget it.

The words sank into her like lead.

She nodded slowly, though her chest ached with unspoken words. Outwardly, she agreed—because what else could she do? He had already dismissed it, already smoothed it over like plaster covering a crack. But inside, she knew she couldn't just forget. She couldn't unfeel the knot of unease that settled in her stomach whenever his charm replaced his temper like flipping a switch.

"Yeah," she whispered. "We're good."

Grayson grinned and tossed another pretzel in his mouth, stretching back against the couch like everything in their world was exactly as it should be.

Diana, though, sat with her phone still heavy in her hand, her thoughts louder than the quiet hum of the vending machine down the hall.

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so graysons getting more toxic by the minute

poor diana doesn't know what to do

i know all my grayson haters are struggling with him constantly being around, but i promise, it will be worth it

and we may or may not get to see a protective malachi eventually 😊