41 | cute little blonde girl

CUTE LITTLE BLONDE GIRL

🪩

By the time Diana finally got back to her apartment, it was close to midnight.

The adrenaline had only just begun to fade, leaving behind that heavy but electric exhaustion that came after performing live.

She had tossed her duffel in the corner, kicked off her sneakers, and collapsed onto her bed, sprawled across the sheets with a satisfied groan. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, lighting up with the one name she expected most.

babe😘

Diana swiped to answer, and in an instant her best friend's face filled the screen. Aspen was sitting cross-legged on her own bed, hair piled in a messy bun, wearing a huge sweatshirt that nearly swallowed her. She was surrounded by snacks — a half-eaten bag of gummy worms, an open can of Pringles, and what looked like a pint of ice cream balanced dangerously close to her laptop.

"OH. MY. GOD." Aspen didn't even say hello. She launched in, her voice loud enough to make Diana wince and laugh at the same time. "Do you have any idea how hot you looked tonight?"

Diana rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were already warming. "Aspen..."

"No, don't even try to downplay it," Aspen cut her off, pointing dramatically at the screen like she was scolding her through the phone. "You were a goddess. I mean, those spins? That hair? That outfit? You had the whole ballroom eating out of the palm of your hand."

Diana covered her face with her hand, laughing into her palm. "Stop. You sound insane."

"I sound accurate," Aspen shot back, tossing a gummy worm into her mouth. "Seriously, I could feel the collective gasp through my screen. People were losing their minds. You don't even get it because you were up there, but from here?" She threw her free hand up dramatically. "Icon. Star. Queen."

Diana groaned, dropping onto her back against the pillows. "Not you too. Malachi already called me that."

Aspen froze, mid-bite, then leaned in toward her camera, eyes narrowing. "Wait. Back up. Did you just say Malachi called you Queen?"

Diana realized her slip a second too late. "I... might've."

"Oh-ho-ho, no way. Spill. Now." Aspen grinned like a predator who'd just found fresh prey.

"There's nothing to spill!" Diana protested, sitting up again, her cheeks warming further. "He just—he was there after the show, and we talked, and he was teasing me—"

Aspen leaned so close to her phone that Diana could see every individual lash. "Are you kidding me? Diana, he was probably freaking out watching you dance like that. Like—hello? You were out there being all gorgeous and powerful, and Malachi freaking Barton was in the room? That boy probably had a full-on meltdown."

Diana buried her face in her hands again, groaning. "Aspen, you're being ridiculous."

"Am I?" Aspen sing-songed. "Am I, though? Because from where I'm standing, you've got a boy who shows up, can't stop complimenting you, and actually cares about you. That does not sound ridiculous. That sounds like receipts."

Diana peeked through her fingers, trying to smother her grin. "You're impossible."

Aspen smirked triumphantly, settling back against her pillows. "And yet, I'm right."

The two of them dissolved into laughter, the kind that bubbled up and refused to stop, until Diana's stomach hurt and Aspen was wiping tears from her eyes.

When they calmed down enough to breathe, Aspen tilted her head. "So... tell me everything. What did he say? What did you say? Don't you dare leave out a single detail."

Diana sighed, tugging her blanket up to her chin as if it might shield her from the interrogation. "It wasn't anything, Asp. He just... told me I did great. And then he kind of—" she paused, feeling her blush deepen, "—stumbled over his words. Which was weird, because he never does that."

Aspen's eyes widened, and she leaned so far forward the camera shook. "HE STUTTERED?"

"Yes, but not like—"

Aspen cut her off again, throwing her arms in the air. "Oh my god, he's gone. That's it. He's down bad. You broke him."

Diana laughed so hard she had to clutch her stomach. "You're making this sound like some rom-com."

"It is a rom-com," Aspen declared. "Best friend becomes ballroom star. Cute guy shows up and loses his ability to speak around her. You've seen this movie. I've seen this movie. And guess what? It ends with a kiss."

Diana's laughter faltered just slightly at that last word, the memory of their almost-kiss in rehearsal flickering across her mind before she could stop it. The way his breath had mingled with hers, the way she'd been hyper-aware of every inch between them—

She shook her head quickly, trying to shove the thought away. "You're literally delusional."

"Delusional and correct," Aspen countered, popping open the Pringles and crunching one loudly into the mic just to annoy her.

Diana groaned, but her smile lingered, warmth blooming in her chest. This was what she loved most about Aspen — the way her best friend could make even the most chaotic day end in laughter, in comfort, in teasing that felt more like love than anything else.

They talked like that for another hour, bouncing from topic to topic, circling back to the show and to Malachi more times than Diana wanted to admit. Every time Aspen brought him up, Diana protested, but deep down, she didn't mind. Not really.

Because no matter how much she denied it, the truth was there, lingering in the edges of her thoughts: the way Malachi had looked at her tonight, the way his voice had softened just for her.

And the way, maybe, just maybe, Aspen wasn't as ridiculous as she seemed.

Two days later, Diana was back in the rehearsal studio with the pros.

The morning had been a blur of sweat, music, and laughter — the kind of energy that reminded her why she loved being a dancer in the first place. Even without a celebrity partner to train anymore, rehearsals for the pros were demanding. They worked on transitions for the opening number, smoothed out formations for group dances, and polished tricks that would eventually make their way to the stage.

It was work, but the kind Diana thrived on. Every time the music pulsed through the speakers, she felt herself settle deeper into the choreography, her body hitting accents, her hair flipping with precision. By the time they finally called it a wrap for the day, Diana was glowing with sweat, her tank top sticking to her back, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with the others'.

Diana bent down to grab her water, twisting off the cap and taking a long gulp. The cold water soothed her dry throat, cooling her from the inside out. She sat on the floor for a moment, leaning against the mirrored wall as the room buzzed with chatter — Brandon joking with Emma, Pasha and Dani talking, Gleb scrolling through his phone.

It was then she decided to check her own.

At first she thought her phone was glitching. The lock screen showed over a hundred notifications, a nonstop stream of Twitter tags, Instagram mentions, and DMs from fans.

Her brows knitted together. What the...?

She unlocked her phone, and the flood of notifications continued.

Have you seen this?

What does this mean?

Thoughts on what Grayson said??

Her stomach sank.

Grayson.

Her thumb hesitated, hovering over one of the tags before she finally tapped.

The screen shifted to a Twitter post — a video clip from a podcast, the caption reading: Grayson Holt talks about DWTS experience on The Spotlight Podcast.

Her pulse quickened as she hit play.

The video opened with the familiar set of the podcast — two hosts sitting across from Grayson, who looked relaxed in his chair, baseball cap pulled low, a grin on his face like he didn't have a care in the world.

"So," one of the hosts asked, leaning in with a smile, "what was it like stepping into the Dancing With the Stars studio for the first time?"

Grayson chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, man... it was insane! I walked in, and standing there was this cute little blonde girl, my partner."

They laughed softly.

Diana's stomach twisted immediately, the words hitting her in a way she knew most people wouldn't notice.

It sounded lighthearted, even sweet, but she could hear the tone beneath it — the subtle condescension, the way he said little like it undermined her. And the fact that he didn't even say her name...

She swallowed hard, fingers tightening around her phone as the clip continued.

Grayson went on to talk about rehearsals, about how much work it was, how intense the schedule got. "It's funny," he added with a small smirk, "I thought dancing would be easy, but, uh, turns out it's not when you're with a perfectionist."

The hosts laughed again, nodding.

Diana felt her throat close up. Perfectionist. The word wasn't inherently bad, but she could hear the edge in it. The way he framed it like an annoyance, a flaw, instead of the pride she took in her work.

He kept going. "It was definitely... a learning experience. She really pushed me, sometimes too much. But hey, that's what they do, right? That's what the pros are there for. It was fun while it lasted."

Fun while it lasted.

The casual dismissal burned in her chest.

The clip cut off there, but it was enough.

Diana stared at her screen, the words echoing in her head like poison. To anyone else, it probably sounded harmless. Just a celebrity recounting his time on the show. But to her, it was so much more. Every syllable dripped with the kind of subtle digs only she would recognize. The minimization of her hard work. The way he painted her as uptight, as pushy, as nothing more than a "cute little blonde girl."

Her chest tightened, breath growing shallow. She could already see the headlines forming.

Grayson Holt Calls Out DWTS Partner

'Cute Little Blonde Girl': Grayson's Take on Diana Sinclair

Her eyes stung before she could stop them.

No. Not here.

Shoving her phone into her bag, Diana stood quickly, her chair scraping across the floor. No one seemed to notice as she slipped out the studio door, her vision blurring as tears threatened to spill.

The hallway was mercifully empty. She pressed her back against the wall, sucking in a shaky breath, trying to ground herself.

Don't cry here. Don't let them see.

But the tears fell anyway, hot and unwanted, sliding down her cheeks as she buried her face in her hands.

Every memory of their partnership — the arguments, the tension, the way he made her feel small — came rushing back. And now, even off the show, he was still finding ways to cut her down. Still making her feel insignificant in front of the world.

She drew in a deep breath, wiping at her cheeks furiously. She had to pull herself together. The storm hadn't even hit yet — the clip was only just spreading, and soon the fans, the press, everyone would be dissecting it.

And she had to be ready.

But in that quiet hallway, with her chest heaving and her face wet, Diana allowed herself just one more moment to crumble. To feel the weight of his words and the anger, the hurt that burned in her chest.

Then she inhaled sharply, straightening her spine.

Whatever was coming next, she would face it.

But she would not let Grayson see her break.

The living room smelled like sesame chicken and garlic fried rice. Malachi's coffee table was cluttered with takeout boxes, crumpled napkins, and half-empty soda cans, the kind of casual mess that only came with a low-key hangout. Mk was sprawled sideways on the couch, chopsticks in hand as he attacked a carton of lo mein. Joshua sat cross-legged on the rug with a spring roll in one hand, his phone in the other, laughing at some meme he was trying to show them.

Malachi sat at the far end of the couch, his phone propped up against a water glass, Instagram Live rolling while he absentmindedly picked at his container of fried rice. The screen glowed, comment bubbles flying past so fast it was hard to catch them all.

"MALACHI HI!!!""I LOVE YOU""Mk is literally the funniest person alive.""Where's Freya????""Missing tour right now."

He chuckled, dragging his palm over his jaw. "Okay, y'all are wild. I can't even read this fast."

The three of them kept the energy light, swapping dumb stories about rehearsals, favorite tour memories, and who would survive longest on a deserted island.

But then the tone of the comments began to shift.

He had known it was coming—fans had been buzzing nonstop since the podcast clip dropped—but seeing it flood his feed in real time made his stomach twist.

"Malachi what do u think of Grayson's interview??""pls tell us ur side about what he said abt diana.""is diana ok??""grayson was rude af""protect diana at all costs"

He'd watched the clip that morning, sitting at his kitchen counter with his phone balanced against his cereal bowl. At first, it had seemed like harmless chatter—Grayson talking about his Dancing with the Stars experience, saying the right PR-friendly things. But then came that line.

Grayson's smirk. The way he'd said cute little blonde girl like Diana wasn't a world-class dancer but some fragile accessory.

It was innocent enough on paper. But Malachi had heard the tone. It hadn't been sweet. It had been dismissive. Like Diana wasn't the pro who'd carried him through weeks of training and choreography, but just some girl he happened to bump into. The subtext had grated at him all morning.

It made Malachi's blood boil.

The second he'd watched it, he had fired off a text to Diana.

Hey, just saw that clip. Are you okay?

But she hadn't answered. Not then, not after. He knew she was in rehearsals, but the silence gnawed at him. He wanted to know she was holding up, that she wasn't letting Grayson's words cut too deep.

And now, the fans were bringing it right into his Live.

He tried to brush it off at first, forcing a grin as he leaned toward the comments. "Okay, okay, I see a lot of questions flying. Y'all are nosey today."

Josh laughed. "Always."

But the comments didn't stop. If anything, they multiplied, pouring in faster.

"malachi blink twice if u saw the podcast""omg pls defend diana""be honest what do you think about it??""we NEED ur opinion rn"

Malachi felt his jaw tighten. His hand curled into a fist against his thigh, out of frame.

He didn't want to drag Diana further into this publicly. That wasn't his place. And he definitely didn't want to give Grayson the satisfaction of free publicity.

But his silence felt like complicity.

One comment caught his eye — big, bold letters: "GRAYSON CALLED HER A CUTE LITTLE BLONDE GIRL LOL THOUGHTS??"

Malachi read it aloud before he could stop himself. His voice was flat, controlled: "Grayson called her a 'cute little blonde girl,' thoughts?"

There was a beat of silence as his friends glanced at him, sensing the shift in his tone.

Then Malachi leaned forward, his eyes locking with the camera, his jaw set hard. "Let's just say—some people should remember who made them look good out there."

The words hung in the air, sharp and deliberate.

Josh blinked, eyebrows raised. Mk let out a low whistle under his breath.

And the chat — the chat exploded.

"OMG HE SAID IT""KING ENERGY""WE LOVE A MAN WHO DEFENDS WOMEN""malachi lowkey dragging him lol""DIANA DESERVES THIS SUPPORT"

Malachi sat back, cool as ever, but his pulse thudded hard against his ribs. He didn't elaborate, didn't give them more. He just reached for his fork again and shoveled a bite of rice into his mouth.

Mk broke the silence first, laughing under his breath. "Bro, you just dropped the mic and went back to fried rice. That's iconic."

The Live carried on, the conversation shifting back to lighter topics. But the undercurrent remained, and Malachi didn't miss the dozens of comments still spamming hearts and fire emojis, still thanking him for standing up for her.

He didn't care about the headlines this might spark.

What mattered was that Diana knew she wasn't alone.

The glow from the TV flickered across Diana's apartment, throwing pale light over the blanket she was curled beneath. She wasn't really watching—something random on Netflix played in the background, but her eyes weren't following the scenes. Her mind was still circling like a storm, replaying that podcast clip again and again, the casual cruelty in Grayson's words lodged deep in her chest.

Her phone buzzed for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. She ignored it, eyes fixed on the faint pattern in her throw blanket. She already knew what she'd see if she checked: dozens of messages from fans tagging her in support, some of them angry on her behalf. Aspen had left three missed calls and what looked like a voice memo. Dani had sent a whole string of texts ranging from are you okay? to I will personally throw hands if I have to. And Malachi...

She'd seen his name flash on her screen earlier. She hadn't opened the text. It wasn't that she didn't want to—if anything, part of her wanted nothing more than to hear his voice, to let him take the edge off the ache in her chest. But she couldn't. Not yet. The wound was still too raw.

Her stomach twisted as another text bubble lit up on the screen. She flipped the phone over, burying it between the cushions. Silence. Only the hum of the fridge and the background noise from the TV remained.

Until the knock.

Diana blinked, frowning. She wasn't expecting anyone. Slowly, cautiously, she pushed herself up from the couch and padded barefoot toward the door. Her hand hesitated on the knob, her heartbeat ticking fast.

She opened it.

And there he was.

Malachi stood in the hallway, dark curls a little messy, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows. In his hand was a large In-N-Out cup with condensation sliding down the side, a telltale chocolate shake. His expression was soft but steady, eyes searching hers like he'd been worried all day.

"Hi," he said simply.

The word was small, but it unraveled her.

"Hi," Diana whispered back. Her voice cracked, and before she could stop it, her eyes burned hot, tears blurring her vision.

Malachi's jaw tightened just a fraction, but he didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, his free arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders. He nudged the door shut behind him with his foot, guiding her backward until they were inside, cocooned in the soft light of her living room.

The tears spilled freely now. She clutched at the fabric of his hoodie as he held her, the quiet strength of his arms grounding her in a way she hadn't realized she needed so badly. She tried to steady her breathing, but the frustration and hurt tangled in her chest until her shoulders trembled.

Malachi's hand slipped up, warm and careful as he framed her face and tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. His thumb brushed away a tear.

"Listen to me," he said gently, his voice low but sure. "Grayson's words mean nothing. Nothing. He can talk in circles all he wants, but it doesn't change the truth. He's just trying to act strong, like he's above it all—but really?" A small, sharp smirk tugged at his mouth. "He just made himself look like an idiot."

A shaky laugh bubbled out of Diana, despite her tears. Malachi's eyes softened at the sound.

"The people who love you," he continued, his thumb still brushing lightly against her cheek, "they know the truth. They know who you are, what you did for him, how hard you worked. That's what matters."

Diana's throat tightened. She nodded slowly. "I know," she whispered. "I just... I just wish it didn't turn out like this. I wanted it to mean something. I wanted us to at least come out of it okay."

Malachi pulled her closer, resting his chin briefly against the crown of her head. "I know." His voice was quieter now, laced with something almost protective. "You didn't deserve that. But he doesn't get to decide your worth. He never did."

For a long moment, Diana just stayed there, breathing him in. The clean, warm scent of his hoodie, the steady beat of his heart under her cheek, the way his arms didn't let her fall apart. She hadn't realized how much she'd been craving this kind of comfort until it was here, and now she didn't want to let go.

But Malachi, sensing her mood shift, leaned back a little, his hand still steady on her arm. His eyes searched hers with a spark of mischief. "Okay," he said, lighter now. "We're not letting him ruin your night. We're doing something to cheer you up."

Diana blinked at him through tear-blurred lashes. "Like what?"

"Anything," he said, grinning. "Movie marathon. Karaoke. You name it. Your call."

She sniffled, half laughing. "I, uh... I have stuff to make cookies."

His grin widened instantly. "Perfect."

The heaviness in her chest loosened as she saw the genuine excitement light up his face. She couldn't help it—she laughed, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. "You're such a kid."

"Hey, I brought the shake," he teased, lifting his eyebrows. "I think I earned a cookie."

Diana rolled her eyes, but warmth had started to creep back in, softening the jagged edges of her mood. For the first time all day, she felt like maybe, just maybe, she could breathe again.

"Fine," she said, tugging him toward the kitchen. "But you're helping."

Malachi followed willingly, shake in one hand, free hand brushing against hers in a way that made her pulse skip.

And as the two of them began pulling out flour, sugar, and chocolate chips, Diana realized something she hadn't before: Grayson's words had hurt her, yes. But Malachi's presence—the way he showed up at her door without hesitation, without needing to be asked—mattered so much more.

The kitchen smelled like vanilla and sugar, warm and nostalgic. There was flour dusted over the counters, smudges of melted chocolate on Diana's hands, and a smear of butter on Malachi's hoodie sleeve that he hadn't noticed yet. The two of them had been laughing for nearly an hour—over silly things, over nothing at all—like the heaviness of earlier had been cracked open and replaced by something lighter, something almost giddy.

"Okay, okay," Malachi said with mock seriousness, scooping cookie dough onto the tray with exaggerated precision. "This is the most important part. The spacing has to be exact, otherwise..."

"Otherwise what?" Diana asked from her perch on the counter, her legs swinging casually.

"Otherwise they'll merge into one giant cookie blob," he said solemnly, lifting a brow.

She snorted. "And that's a bad thing?"

Malachi froze mid-scoop, pretending to consider it. "Actually..." He grinned. "That might be genius."

Diana laughed so hard she nearly dropped the spoon she'd been licking. She shook her head at him, hair falling loose from her messy bun. "You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously smart," he shot back, flashing her a playful smile as he slid the tray into the oven. He shut the door with a flourish and spun toward her, brushing his hands off dramatically. "And that is how you make perfect cookies."

"You didn't even measure the flour," Diana teased, holding up the spoon like it was evidence.

"Details, details," Malachi said, dismissing it with a wave.

Her smile softened as she licked the last bit of dough from the spoon. Her phone buzzed on the counter beside her, and for the first time all evening, she reached for it. She figured she'd finally face the flood of messages she'd been ignoring all day.

Dozens of unread notifications lit up her screen—fans tagging her, Aspen sending memes to try to cheer her up, Dani spamming heart emojis, her family checking in. She scrolled absently, letting the comfort of the normal chatter ground her.

Then one tag caught her eye. It wasn't Grayson's clip. It was Malachi's.

Curious, she tapped it.

The video filled her screen. It was from his Instagram Live, the one people had been whispering about online. She watched as he sat in his living room, laughing with Mk and Joshua. The comments scrolled past in a blur, fans spamming questions. Then she saw it—a fan asking about Grayson's podcast.

She watched the way Malachi's jaw tightened, the flicker of anger in his eyes before he leaned closer to the camera.

Her breath caught. She rewound it, watching again, hearing the conviction in his tone. Not just casual defending. Fierce. Unflinching. For her.

She hadn't realized how intensely she was staring until Malachi's voice, closer now, cut into her focus.

"What are you watching?"

She blinked up, startled. Malachi had crossed the kitchen and was now standing directly in front of her, hands braced on either side of her against the counter. His body caged her in without actually touching, his presence filling the space. His head tilted, eyes curious as he glanced from her phone to her face.

Diana swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Slowly, she turned the screen toward him, the paused video frozen on his face.

"You... really said that? For me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Malachi's gaze flicked from the phone back to her. There wasn't a shred of hesitation in his eyes. "Of course," he said simply, his voice low and steady. "Diana, I'm always gonna stand up for you. No matter what."

Her chest tightened at the words. Something warm and overwhelming swelled inside her, mixing with the remnants of the hurt she'd been carrying. She placed the phone back in her lap, her hands trembling slightly.

They didn't speak. They didn't need to. For a moment, there was only silence and the sound of their breathing. His hands stayed planted on the counter, framing her, close enough that she could feel the faint heat of his body radiating toward her. Her eyes met his, and neither of them looked away.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. A single tear falling down her cheek.

His eyes softened, but he leaned in, just slightly, like gravity itself was pulling him closer. "Diana, i'd do anything for you." He brought his hand up to wipe away the tear. His thumb brushing along her cheek before resting his hand against her jaw.

Her breath quickened. "Malachi..." she whispered, her tone almost pleading, her eyes flicking down to his lips before darting back up to his gaze.

That was all it took.

Their lips met.

The first touch was slow, tentative—like both of them were testing the water of something they'd been dancing around for weeks. But the moment the spark caught, it spread fast. His mouth moved against hers with a sudden urgency, pulling her closer.

Diana's fingers tangled in the fabric of his hoodie, anchoring herself as the kiss deepened. She could feel the warmth of his breath, the press of his lips growing more insistent, more certain.

She gasped softly against him, fingers gripping his hoodie harder and tugging him closer until he was pressed flush against her.

Malachi stepped forward instinctively, slotting himself between her legs, one hand sliding from the counter to the curve of her waist, pulling her in. His thumb brushed against her ribs, sending sparks up her skin even through the thin fabric of her tank.

Diana tilted her head, lips parting to let him in, and the kiss deepened. His tongue grazed hers and she let out the softest whimper, muffled against his mouth, which only seemed to spur him on. He angled his head, kissing her harder, like he'd been holding it in for far too long.

Her hands fisted in his hoodie again before they smoothed upward, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. She tugged, desperate to keep him close, to keep him from pulling away. He groaned into her mouth, low and rough, and the sound made her knees press tighter around his hips.

It wasn't gentle anymore. It was hot, electric. Weeks of tension, of stolen glances and almost-kisses, poured out in that moment. The taste of chocolate lingered faintly between them, sweet and intoxicating.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, their foreheads rested together. Diana's cheeks burned, her chest heaving as she looked up into his eyes.

Malachi laughed softly, almost disbelieving, his thumb brushing her cheek. "You drive me crazy," he murmured.

Diana's lips curved into a smile, her voice husky. "Good. Because you've been driving me crazy for weeks."

They both laughed then, a little breathless, a little stunned. But the laughter melted into something softer, steadier. Malachi leaned in again, pressing a smaller, tender kiss to her lips—quick, sweet, but just as charged.

When they pulled back this time, both of them were grinning, eyes locked like the rest of the world had disappeared. Diana felt it in her bones—the happy, dizzy certainty that something had shifted, that whatever this was between them had just crossed into something real.

The hurt from Grayson's words faded into the background, replaced by the warmth of Malachi's hands, the sweetness of his kiss, and the way his gaze held hers like she was the only thing that mattered.

🪩

AHHHHHHHHIT FINALLY HAPPENED!!!

also i forgot that i made their first kiss kinda intense 😂

let me know your thoughts and where you think they'll go from here😊