*Ariana's pov*
---
After Blaze walked off, Kyro was boiling with rage. His fists were clenched, jaw tight like he was ready to fight.
"Kyro," I called softly, tugging his arm. "He's not worth it."
"He thinks he can disrespect you and get away with it," Kyro growled.
"To him, it's just a game. Don't give him the reaction he wants," I whispered, then leaned in and kissed him.
He melted into it — but I didn't.
As our lips touched, Blaze's face flashed in my mind. His smirk, his kiss, the feel of his hand gripping my waist. My heart skipped. *What the hell is wrong with me?*
I quickly pulled away. "I have to go get ready," I said.
Kyro smiled, "I'll be cheering for you."
I nodded and left, my steps faster than usual. I needed to breathe. I needed to *focus*.
***
By 9:30 AM, we were backstage. The competition started at 10, and it wasn't just me — a handful of girls were performing. But let's be honest, the real pressure was knowing *who* was judging.
Blaze and Kyro.
Naomi found me practicing some simple moves, and she groaned. "Girl, you're too stiff. This is your moment — give them a show."
She showed me a few hotter dance moves — body rolls, hair flips, and then… the *bumbum shake*.I gasped, "Naomi! I can't do that! That's— that's embarrassing!"
She laughed. "Embarrassing wins trophies. Shake what your mama gave you! You wanna be unforgettable, right?"
I hesitated.
She didn't know the real reason I was hesitating. Not because of the move, but because of *him*. Because I knew Blaze would be watching. Judging. *Imagining.*
Still… I nodded.
"Fine. I'll do it."
"Yesss!" Naomi cheered. "That's my girl."
Then she squinted at my outfit. "Ugh. What's with the turtleneck? You look like you came from Sunday school."
I laughed nervously. "Just wanted to cover up…"
"Whatever. Lucky for you, I brought you a real outfit." She pulled out a crop cheer top and a sparkly mini skirt. My eyes widened.
"Naomi!"
"No arguing. Go change. Restroom's free."
I stared at the outfit, my heart racing. Blaze was going to *see me* in this.
God help me.
---
I stared at myself in the mirror, holding up the outfit Naomi handed me — a cropped cheer top, black with shimmering red accents that showed off just enough cleavage to raise eyebrows. The mini skirt barely reached mid-thigh, pleated and dangerously flirty. The moment I slipped it on, I knew this dress *wasn't hiding* anything.
Especially *not* the hickey.
My eyes zoomed in on the mark Blaze left. "Shit," I muttered. I pulled the top up, tried adjusting the neckline, even considered walking onstage with my hair covering it — but nothing worked.
Then I remembered my emergency plaster strip in my makeup pouch. I peeled one out and carefully placed it over the hickey.
It didn't *hide* the shame, but at least it covered it.
I stepped out, and Naomi's jaw dropped. "Damn girl! You look *sexy*!"
She grabbed my shoulders and twirled me. "I knew I picked the right outfit for you."
Then her eyes caught the plaster on my neck. "Wait… what's that?"
I froze. "Oh. I… uh, bruised my neck by mistake. While changing."
She squinted, not fully convinced, but didn't push. Instead, she leaned forward, kissed my forehead, and whispered, "Be careful. And go kill it out there."
Just then, my name echoed through the backstage speakers.
Naomi beamed. "Go make me proud."
My heart pounded like a drum in my chest. I took a deep breath, pushed back the nerves, and stepped onto the stage.
The crowd was bigger than I expected. At the front row sat *the judges*: The Vixens, Blaze — who leaned back in his seat with that unreadable smirk — Kyro, smiling with full boyfriend energy, and two other unfamiliar faces, probably from the school sports council.
I waved. Blaze didn't react. Just *watched* me.
The music dropped — bass-heavy, seductive, and loud.
I moved.
Smooth rolls of my hips.
Sharp spins.
Hair whips.
Then the part Naomi drilled into me — I turned, bent low, and shook my bumbum like my life depended on it. The crowd gasped, then erupted in cheers.
I gave them everything.
Sexy. Confident. Unapologetic.
By the time I hit my final pose — head tilted, hand on my waist, lips parted — the entire gym was *screaming*.
Applause filled the air.
I turned and strutted backstage, adrenaline still high, chest heaving.
*God, I did that.*
But in the back of my mind, I was only wondering one thing…*What did blaze think?
Backstage, as the cheers still echoed in her ears, Ariana leaned against the wall, trying to steady her breathing. But it wasn't the dance that made her heart race.
It was *his eyes.*
Blaze.
The way he stared at her while she danced — like she was the only person in the room. Like her body was *his* stage.
His gaze was intense, dark, devouring every sway of her hips, every shake of her curves. She could feel it on her skin — hot, possessive, *dangerous*.
"God," she whispered, pressing a hand to her chest. "Why does he look at me like that?"
Her knees were weak.
It wasn't nerves. It wasn't fear. It was something *else*.
Something she didn't want to name.
And the worst part?
She *loved* it.
---
After all the solo performances ended, the host stepped back onto the stage with a wide smile and a mic in hand.
"Alright, Crestwood!" he shouted, hyping up the crowd. "It's time to announce our *top 3 finalists* for this year's cheer tryouts!"
The entire auditorium erupted in applause and whistles.
He held up a card and called the names *one by one*.
"First up… *Talia James!*"
Talia stepped forward, blowing kisses. The crowd roared.
"Second… *Emily Cruz!*"
Emily did a playful twirl and winked at the judges. Another round of cheers echoed.
"And finally… *Ariana Belle!*"
A beat of silence. Then the loudest cheer of the night exploded. The Vixens whistled. Naomi screamed. Even some guys stood up clapping. Ariana stepped forward, heart pounding, lights flashing in her eyes, trying not to trip on her heels.
She couldn't believe it. *Top 3*.
The host continued, "But it's not over yet. For this final round, each of our finalists will perform a *duet* with one of our cheer boys. Let's see your chemistry, rhythm, and stage power!"
As Ariana stood between the other two girls, she forced a smile while secretly freaking out inside. Her name… had just been screamed by the *entire school*.
Naomi leaned in from backstage and whispered, "Whatever happens, just *own it*. You're the star."
Then the music changed.
One by one, the girls performed sexy, energetic duet routines with their partners. Then…
It was *Ariana's* turn.
The spotlight hit her. Her partner — tall, athletic, and smooth — walked up and took her hand. As the sensual beat dropped, they moved in sync — bodies close, spinning, lifting, dipping. His hands grazed her waist, her back arched with the rhythm, and they moved like two magnets drawn to each other.
It wasn't just sexy — it was *emotional*. Their chemistry told a story, and for a few moments, the crowd disappeared.
But just over her partner's shoulder, Ariana's eyes flicked to the judges' table — and met *Blaze's gaze* again.
He was staring.
Hard.
Jaw tight. Eyes unreadable.
And suddenly, it felt like she wasn't dancing for the crowd — she was dancing for *him*.
Every move became more intense, more precise, more *daring*.
When the music ended, the crowd roared. Her partner stepped back, but Ariana stood still for a second longer… staring at Blaze.
He didn't clap.
He didn't blink.
He just *watched* her.
And it shook her more than any dance could.
Love ya 💜💜