Then she pulled back, her lips still grazing his. “I already did.”
He huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh and might’ve been awe. “Yeah?”
She nodded, trailing a fingertip through the stubble along his jaw as though she planned to keep choosing him forever. “The rest is just glitter, baby.”
77
AND… ACTION!
Holly
“I’ve performed my whole life. Tonight was unscripted.”
The lights dimmed in a slow, deliberate sweep. Holly stood in the dark with her hand already resting in Nate’s, the weight of his palm against her own. She’d deliberately asked for darkness and a single spotlight. The light pooled around them now, making them look like the last two guests left at an Oscars after-party who’d decided the night wasn’t finished with them yet.
Holly’s gown was raspberry-red, sculpted and sleeveless, covered in a scattering of tiny crimson stones that flashed like embers when she moved. She felt none of the anxiety that used to creep in at moments like this. There was no obsessing over judges’ preferences, no background arithmetic calculating what the prize purse could do for hospital invoices.
There was only Nate in his black tails, sharply tailored and unapologetically classic. The polish had been disrupted in the best possible way with a loose bowtie at his collar and the topbuttons of his white shirt open. The contrast between refinement and rebellion suited him.
All the bright flashy LED background graphics the production team was so fond of had been tamed into a scene in muted, moody blues. The iconic Hollywood sign sat high on the crest of Mount Lee, with a smattering of softly twinkling stars scattered across the sky like diamonds. Holly and Nate stood there calmly, making the moment their own like they’d stepped out of another era only to rewrite it on their own terms.
The husky male vocals of Rewrite the Stars from The Greatest Showman echoed through the silence. In those seconds, before everything started, Holly took a deep breath and looked up to meet Nate’s impossibly blue gaze, only to find he was already staring at her in wonder. For one horrifying second she felt her eyes burn with tears as she felt the overwhelm of just how far they’d come.
… and then he grinned at her, making her laugh.
The band had transformed the song. The pop defiance of the original arrangement had been stripped away, reshaped into a slow three-count pulse that wrapped around the dancer in her like velvet. It was romantic but not cheesy. The melody curved upward in deliberate arcs, delicate and overflowing with promise.
Holly could feel it in her blood that this was going to be the best she’d ever danced in her life. No pressure. Just herentire legacyresting on three counts. She felt the strength and stability in his frame, the subtle recalibration of his shoulder allowing her to extend further into her line without straining. She took a deep breath, and they stepped into closed hold with a confidence that no longer needed to announce itself.
Their first steps met the floor with a swell of applause from the audience. Holly relaxed into the rhythm and closed her eyes, a gentle, unguarded smile curving her lips. She surrendered to Nate’s lead without reservation, and unlike rehearsals where her hand had rested neatly above his bicep in the usual disciplined frame, tonight she let instinct take over. During their next turn she used the momentum to reach down, sweeping her skirt outward like a banner of quiet victory.
The raspberry silk flared in a controlled arc as they traveled across the floor in a clean diagonal flow, the movement expansive but grounded. They weren’t just moving through choreography any more, they were inhabiting the waltz as if it’d always been waiting for them to grow into it. When the chorus swelled, she opened from his hold, allowing the frame to widen without breaking the connection.
Holly stayed in the count, connected to him breathing through each transition as though this was as easy as a Sunday stroll. They cut the long diagonal across the floor, dress flaring, rise and fall measured and confident. It was cinematic in a way that was earned, and as they entered the final refrain, the orchestra shifted.
The percussion fell away first, the pulse softening into sustained strings and a single line of piano that traced the melody with restrained tenderness. The tempo decelerated almost imperceptibly, the grand sweep of the arrangement folding inward as if the studio itself had decided to lean in and listen more closely. The earlier promise of defiance that had carried them across the floor dissolved into something far more intimate.
Nate slowed their rotation, drawing her closer until the space between them narrowed to breath and warmth. Holly let therise soften beneath her feet. Let the fall settle without fear. Their final turn happened almost in place, the world beyond their frame blurring into light and shadow as the piano carried the last bars with reverent restraint.
Holly felt a surge of clarity so clean it startled her.
When the final note stretched into silence, he didn’t pull her into a flourish. The choreography didn’t demand a dip, asking for trust over spectacle. Nate’s hand slid slightly lower along her back to anchor them both, and he simply leaned in. Holly met him halfway, their foreheads touching on the last breath of music.
The applause was so overwhelming it rattled the rafters, but it felt distant compared to the quiet certainty in her heart. The audience was on its feet. The judges were already rising. But for the first time in her career, Holly wasn’t waiting to see if she was enough. She already knew.
Nate
“She didn’t need saving. Just someone who wasn’t going anywhere.”
Nate was barely breathing when the music faded and the applause detonated. The roar rolled across the ballroom like thunder, rising and rising until it felt less like noise and more like a reckoning. His chest heaved, Holly’s hand still locked around his as they turned toward the judges’ table, blinkingunder the lights like they’d just stepped out of a dream and back into the real world.
He blinked, looking into the crowd now the lights were up and he could see further than the moment allowed.
There they were. The Hammerheads, his boys, scattered across the third row like someone had thrown a bag of brawling golden retrievers into formalwear. Full suits, hair still damp from whatever chaos they’d gotten up to in the greenroom, clapping like idiots with the pride that punched straight through his ribs. Jaime was on his feet already, of course. Captain posture, king of smug solidarity, cheering like Nate had just dropped the gloves and scored a hat trick at the same time. Cash mouthed something that was probably obscene and definitely supportive. Sully sat on the end of the row like a dad trying to keep his kids in line.
The sudden, ridiculous fact that they’d actually shown up for him meant so much to Nate. Not because it was expected, but becausethey chose him. Because after everything, he still belonged somewhere.
And then his eyes snagged on Sigrid across the aisle from Sully, hands pressed to her mouth. She wasn’t even pretending to be composed. Her eyes were glassy, her face lit with happiness. Nate’s chest burned in a way he didn’t have words for. And beside her…
