𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧' 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 ─────⋆⋅★𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘺

𝟑𝟎. 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐩

The rehearsal room smelled faintly of cedar and fresh paint, and Suki's reflection loomed in the mirrors, each wall amplifying her insecurities as Kai, her choreographer, watched her every move. She adjusted the leopard-print lingerie set she was wearing—a high-waisted bottom and a bralette that fit perfectly, objectively. Still, every time she looked down, her stomach twisted.

"Alright, one more time, Suki," Kai called out, pacing behind her like a hawk. "From the top, with energy. You're giving Victoria's Secret energy—that's not timid, that's fierce. You're meant to be bringing the house down, babe. Now let's do it like you mean it."

She nodded, biting her lip as she positioned herself, hands grazing her hips. The choreography called for a commanding stride, a swift turn, and a few quick steps across the stage—but her legs couldn't keep up. She felt like a miniature whirlwind beside the long-limbed models who seemed to float across the stage. Suki's walk, meanwhile, felt clipped and staccato, echoing her nerves with each heel click.

"You're hesitating," Kai encouraged, his voice firm but kind. "You're beautiful, but you're doubting yourself. Think fierce, sexy, powerful. That's you." He clapped his hands. "Let's go again."

Before she could reset, the studio door creaked open. Her heart leaped as she saw Drew leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed and a smirk playing on his lips. He held up a white pastry bag.

"Hey," he announced with a wink, "I come bearing carbs."

A laugh bubbled up in her throat despite herself. She walked over, the tension in her shoulders loosening as he handed her the bag, which smelled of buttery, flaky croissants.

"Drew! You know I can't eat this right now," she groaned, though her fingers itched to rip open the bag. "The show's in a week. Kai's practically got me on a green juice-only diet." She rolled her eyes, but her voice softened. She couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face at the sight of him.

"Alright, alright, just thought I'd tempt you." He chuckled, his eyes trailing over her with appreciation that made her pulse skip. "I also thought I'd stop by for moral support. I know how hard you've been pushing yourself."

She sighed, pulling a water bottle from her bag and twisting the cap open. "It's just... it's a lot. The diet, the prep, this outfit," she gestured down at herself, voice dropping. "I'm practically wearing leopard-print dental floss, and every time I move, I feel like the world can see every tiny, imperfect inch of me."

Drew tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. "If you ask me, you look perfect. The world would be lucky to see every inch of you." He pulled her closer by the waistband, the cool leather of his jacket brushing her bare skin, sending a warm shiver through her.

"Drew..." she murmured, her cheeks warming, though she couldn't quite bring herself to step back. His gaze trailed down, deliberately slow, from her eyes to her lips, and lower, and when he looked back up, her breath hitched.

"I'm not just saying that because I'm your boyfriend." He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You've been working your ass off. You deserve this. And for the record, no one else could rock that 'weird leopard-print dental floss' look." His grin turned smug, and he whispered, "Plus, you should know I'll be sitting right in the front row at your show. So if you get nervous, look for me. I'll be watching you the whole time."

She laughed, swatting his shoulder playfully. "Ridiculous. But thank you."

"You know I'll always be here to remind you how insanely talented, beautiful, and—yes—ridiculously sexy you are," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead that lingered just long enough for her heart to stutter.