22 | spicy

SPICY

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The ballroom was alive with energy, the kind that only came on camera blocking day. Crews darted across the polished floor, adjusting lighting rigs, taping down cords, and making sure the stage would look flawless under the glare of the cameras tomorrow night. Music bled faintly from the speakers, looping through different snippets of the routines as tech operators checked sound levels.

Diana sat on the edge of the floor, one leg stretched long in front of her while she leaned into a deep hamstring stretch. She reached forward, fingertips grazing the toes of her sock, then switched to the other leg. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, a few wisps sticking to her temples from the earlier run-throughs.

Grayson sat cross-legged a few feet away, earbuds hanging loosely around his neck. His lips moved silently, counting out beats, his hands twitching slightly as if he were marking the choreography in his head. Every so often, he'd tap his thigh to match the rhythm.

Diana glanced at him. "You've been counting under your breath for the past ten minutes. Are you nervous or something?"

Grayson gave her a small, distracted smile. "Not nervous. Just... dialed in. I don't want to mess up tomorrow."

She nodded, returning to her stretches. The floor felt cool under her palms as she pressed into a butterfly stretch, inhaling deeply.

Grayson's eyes flicked upward, scanning across the room, and then narrowed. His jaw tightened before he even realized it. On the far side of the ballroom, Malachi was standing with his mom, both of them half-hidden behind a lighting stand. Malachi looked relaxed in a hoodie and sneakers, smiling as his mom fussed with something on his shoulder. He said something that made her laugh, and his grin widened.

Grayson's stomach twisted. He muttered under his breath, low enough that he didn't think Diana would catch it. "Of course he's here."

Diana's head lifted immediately, ponytail swishing over her shoulder. "Did you say something?"

Grayson's jaw flexed, but he quickly shook his head, smoothing his expression. "No. Just running the choreo through my head." He tapped his fingers against his knee as if to prove it.

Diana studied him for a moment, her brows knitting slightly, but she let it go. "Right." She leaned back into her stretch, not pressing further.

Grayson forced his attention back to the counts, though his focus wavered. He could still see Malachi across the room, laughing casually with his mom, like he didn't have a care in the world. The sight pulled at him in a way he couldn't admit, even to himself.

To fill the silence, Diana straightened and shook out her arms. "You're good, you know. For real. I think tomorrow's performance is going to surprise people. The tango is such a different side of you."

That earned a small, more genuine smile from Grayson. "Yeah? You think so?"

She nodded. "Definitely. You've worked hard. It shows."

Grayson relaxed a little at her words, soaking in the compliment. But his eyes still betrayed him, darting briefly toward the other side of the room again before snapping back to her.

Diana didn't notice this time—her focus had already shifted to rolling out her shoulders and shaking out her legs. She hummed softly to herself, mimicking a section of the music.

Meanwhile, Grayson drew in a slow breath and forced himself to lean back, palms flat against the cool wood floor. "Alright," he muttered, more to himself than to her, "camera blocking. Let's make it count."

The energy between them stayed calm on the surface, but an unspoken tension lingered, hovering at the edges of the room like static.

The ballroom bustled like a hive. Cameramen adjusted tripods, producers held clipboards filled with scribbled notes, and assistants hustled in and out of the wings with bottles of water and extra cables. The music for another couple's routine pulsed faintly through the speakers, the thumping beat echoing across the high ceilings.

Diana had just finished going over her notes with the camera crew, standing near one of the large monitors that showed playback angles. They'd walked through the marks — where the lifts would look best, which side to open out her arms so the cameras could capture the sharpest silhouette.

She thanked them with her usual polite smile before stepping back, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her heels clicking softly against the polished floor as she started toward a cluster of pros near the sidelines. She was mid-thought, running counts through her head, when a hand brushed against hers.

Not firm, not forceful — just a gentle catch.

Startled, Diana turned. Her breath caught when she found herself looking into a familiar pair of dark brown eyes.

"Malachi," she said, her lips curving into an involuntary smile.

His grin spread easily, warm and bright. "Hey." His fingers slipped away from hers almost immediately, but the touch lingered in her awareness.

"You again," Diana teased lightly, tilting her head. "At camera blocking. Didn't I just see you here last week?"

He gave a nonchalant shrug, his shoulders lifting under the soft hoodie he wore. "What can I say? I had nothing else going on. Figured I'd hang out here. Free entertainment, right?"

She laughed softly, the sound easing something tight in her chest that had been building all morning. "So you're just here watching us sweat while you relax?"

"Exactly," he said, deadpan, then added with a grin, "I call it moral support."

Diana shook her head, smiling. The ease between them felt natural, like slipping into a conversation with an old friend. Around them, the chaos of crew members faded for just a moment.

She crossed her arms loosely, lowering her voice in a mock-conspiratorial way. "You know, people are going to start thinking you're secretly auditioning for next season."

Malachi smirked. "Only if you're my partner."

The remark sent a surprising warmth fluttering through her, and she was about to reply when a new voice cut in — one that instantly shifted the air around them.

"Malachi."

The sound was sharp enough to make Diana glance up. Graysons shoulder brushed hers, his arms crossed, his posture tall and unyielding. His eyes flicked between them, narrowing slightly as he spoke the name.

Malachi's jaw tightened just a fraction — the tiniest clench, almost imperceptible if Diana hadn't been looking at him. His expression, however, remained neutral. He offered a polite nod. "Grayson."

The space between the two young men crackled in a way Diana couldn't quite name. Neither of them moved closer, but the tension pressed heavy in the air, as if the whole ballroom had paused to see who would speak next.

Diana forced a small, easy smile, glancing between them as though to smooth whatever invisible wall had risen. "Hey, uh—"

But Grayson cut through, his gaze settling firmly on her. "It's our turn." His voice was low, but a smirk sat on his lips.

Diana blinked. "Oh—yeah." She nodded quickly, adjusting the hem of her rehearsal top as if to steady herself.

Graysons hand reached for hers. His grip was firm — firmer than it needed to be, his fingers curling tightly around hers. Diana's brows flicked up slightly at the pressure, but she didn't pull away.

She glanced back once, catching Malachi's eyes. He stood rooted to the spot, hands stuffed into his hoodie pocket, face unreadable. For half a second, though, something softer flickered there — something that looked like understanding, maybe even concern.

Diana gave him a small, lingering smile before Grayson tugged her forward, pulling her toward the marked spot on the ballroom floor where the crew waited for them to run through the tango.

The smile she'd left Malachi with stayed etched on her lips, though the hand gripping hers felt like a reminder that this delicate balance was only becoming more complicated.

Diana and Grayson moved to the center of the ballroom floor as the crew set up the last of the cameras. The music began, pulsing low and sultry through the speakers, and immediately Grayson slipped into character. His shoulders rolled with an effortless confidence, his steps sharp and deliberate. From the outside, it was the perfect image of a leading man in control.

Diana matched him beat for beat, her body flowing into the choreography with precision that came from weeks of rehearsals. Her every move was fluid yet powerful, sexy without ever feeling forced. She knew exactly when to let her hips sway, when to arch into the line of his body, and when to snap the energy sharp. Her extensions were flawless, toes pointed, her hair catching the light as she spun into Grayson's grasp.

Grayson's hands found her waist as the music swelled, gripping firmly—possessively—as he pulled her against him. His movement wasn't just strong; it was hot, almost territorial. The way he slid his hand up her side, fingers lingering before releasing, wasn't just choreography anymore. It was a message.

And from across the room, Malachi saw it.

He hadn't meant to stare. At first, it was just Diana—her focus, her artistry, the way she seemed to transform under the lights. She wasn't just performing; she was glowing. Malachi's jaw tightened as he watched her spin into Grayson's arms, her body folding against his in a way that looked intimate, too intimate. Something about it twisted in his chest.

Diana pressed flush against Grayson's chest, her arms winding up around his shoulders as his hands trailed deliberately down her back, grazing along her side before resting at her hip. It was undeniably sensual, the kind of move designed to make the crowd gasp.

Grayson's eyes flicked up, and instead of focusing on Diana, he locked directly on Malachi. His lips curled into a slow, smug smirk, one that sent his message loud and clear.

Malachi's jaw clenched harder, his knuckles whitening as he pushed them deeper into his hoodie pocket. A flash of something dark crossed his eyes, a warning, but he didn't look away.

Diana, oblivious to the silent exchange, was lost in the music. Her breath came heavy, her hair whipping around her face as she slid down Grayson's body, her movements sharp yet fluid, controlled yet enticing. The two hit their final counts with a perfect snap, Diana arching back into Grayson's hold, legs extended in a clean line, his hand gripping her waist like he wasn't about to let go.

The room erupted in applause. Crew members, fellow pros, even the camera operators clapped at the heat and precision of the routine.

"Whew!" Emma called out with a laugh, fanning herself dramatically. "That was spicy! Somebody better call the fire department."

Diana laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she stood upright again, her cheeks flushed from exertion.

Dani crossed her arms, grinning at her former student. "I have to say, Diana, I've never seen this side of you before."

Still catching her breath, Diana gave a playful shrug. "Guess there's a first time for everything," she teased lightly, her laugh soft and genuine.

But even as the compliments filled the air, Malachi remained quiet at the edge of the room, his gaze fixed on Grayson with a heat that had nothing to do with the dance.

And Diana, completely unaware of the storm brewing between the two men, just smiled and shook out her arms, ready for tomorrow night.

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dianasinclair tomorrow night 😉

tagged: graysonholt

user so ready

theemmaslater it's gonna be spicy

user #teamgrayson

graysonholt 😉 liked by creator

daniellakaragach is it hot in here or is it just me? dianasinclair 🤷🏼‍♀️

user notice how malachi hasn't commented

freyaskye so excited ezra.sosa you might need to cover your eyes for this one user oh so it's gonna be SPICY spicy

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4 chapters today?! who am i?

since it is dwts night, and my top 4 couples made it through elimination, it's only fitting for me to post a 4th chapter

enjoy😊