Next stop: Maddy Mix Studio.
I pushed open the glass doors of Maddy Mix Studio, greeted by the familiar scent of wood polish and faint traces of vanilla-scented candles. The space was alive with movement—dancers stretching, instructors guiding, music playing softly in the background.
At the center of it all was Maddy, my best friend since forever. She stood near the reception desk, her honey-blonde curls tied up in a loose ponytail, dressed in black joggers and a cropped white tank. She grinned the moment she spotted me.
"Look who finally decided to show up," she teased, leaning against the counter.
I smirked. "Please, I'm always on time."
She snorted. "Uh-huh. Sure. Want me to pull up the security cam footage?"
I rolled my eyes, setting my bag down. "You do that, and I'll delete all your embarrassing practice videos."
Maddy gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. "You wouldn't dare."
We laughed, falling into easy conversation, catching up on studio updates, gossip, and the playlist for today's sessions.
Then, 911 by Ellise started playing.
I felt the familiar adrenaline surge through me. Without another word, I made my way to the pole, my steps slow and confident. As my fingers wrapped around the cool metal, the world around me faded.
I moved.
Every spin, every arch, every controlled drop was precise, fluid—my body a seamless extension of the music. I could feel eyes on me. I was used to it. I thrived on it. But today, one gaze in particular burned into me.
It was different.
Dark. Intense.
I caught the stare mid-spin, my heart skipping in a way it never did during performances. He sat at the back, leaning against the mirrored wall, his arms folded, tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves of his black fitted shirt. His legs were stretched out, dressed in equally dark slim-cut trousers and heavy combat boots.
Black hair, tousled just enough to look effortless. A strong jawline, sharp cheekbones. Lips that looked like they knew exactly how to smirk.
He wasn't just attractive. He was lethal.
And yet, for all the fire in his gaze, his expression was unreadable.
The song ended.
I landed lightly on my feet, catching my breath, but before I could even process what just happened—he was already leaving.