he’s too ELITE for all your messy dancer drama
you’re ruining him with rhinestones and feelings
this is a hockey emergency
#freenate #hollythehack
44
HEALTHY SCRATCH FROM HER LIFE
Nate
"You don’t get to be angry when you’re the problem."
He found out the way he found out most things these days: too late, and already halfway to letting his guard down. The rehearsal communal break area was quiet, the hum of early call time buzzing through the air. Nate stood at the coffee machine, hoodie half-zipped, sweat still clinging to the back of his neck from warmups. He’d just let his shoulders drop when Sophie breezed past him.
“Heads up,” she said, cool and clipped like always, skipping over any pretense of small talk. There was a glint of amusement in her eyes, the kind that usually meant she was about to set something on fire and pretend it was strategy. “We’re throwing a little gasoline on the narrative fire today.”
Nate’s jaw tensed. He didn’t look up from his coffee, but every muscle in his back went wire-tight. “What kind of fire?”
“The Tango flopped,” she replied airily. “The press thinks you and Holly split. Socials arespiraling.People are asking if the Paso was fake, if the romance was just bait. It’s a house ofcards waiting to fall. So, we’re pivoting. Giving them something else to chew on.”
Sophie didn’t give him time to brace.
“We’re staging a moment between Lars and Holly. A little flirty. A little loaded. Pap shots, a few vague captions, enough to muddy the waters. Something we can leak by noon.”
The mug in his hand was forgotten. His heart didn’t race. It dropped, low and sharp, like he was standing center ice again and watching a hit come three seconds too late to dodge.
“You’re what?” he said, careful in the way he had to be when every impulse wanted to put his fist through drywallor Lars’ face.
“Don’t start.” Her voice sharpened, just a little. “This is what she signed up for.And you,for that matter. This isn’t ballroom rehab, Nate. It’s reality TV,” she scoffed. “You two were electric for six weeks. But now? You’re tanking the narrative.”
His jaw clenched. “And Holly’s okay with this?”
“She’ll manage.” That faint, infuriating lilt again. In other words, Holly didn’tknow yet.“She’s a pro. She’ll get it done.”
The words dropped like ice into his bloodstream. Not just anyone. Not just some rando plucked for heat. A walking red flag with smarm in his teeth and bad intentions in his back pocket. The irony was that less than two months ago, he’d been a very similar fucking person himself.
To a point.
“Why not Nick?” Nate fired back, clutching at straws. “Doesn’t have to be Lars.”
Sophie chuckled. “Oh don’t worry,” she advised, her voice thick with innuendo. “If this doesn’t work, we’re not above trotting Marlowe out, or anyone else we think’ll work.”
Nate’s jaw flexed as he bit back thefuck youhe wanted to spit in her face. But Sophie was already heading toward Holly’s rehearsal studio.
“Try not to sulk, babe,” she called back over her shoulder. “You’ve had the spotlight long enough.”
For a second he just stood there, processing as though a dozen equations were floating in front of his eyes and he didn’t understand a single fucking one of them. It cut to realize Sophie was right. He’d been in LA long enough to know when the story needed a new villain. And when production needed a spark, they never lit it under the golden boy. They lit it under guys likehim.
He pushed off the counter, huge hand curled around his mug like it was a stand-in for some smug Danish fucker’s throat. He followed Sophie into the rehearsal space, seeing that everything was already in motion. That her heads-up was more of a let’s see how fast he comes running. Which only confirmed his suspicion that they wanted him to play a role.
They wanted a fucking bad boy?
Okay.
He stood in the dim light at the back of the studio, his gaze finding Holly like she was his anchor in this whole damn mess. There she was, being fussed over by makeup. Hair loose and curled to glossy perfection. Lips painted red, eyes winged and glossy. Smiling on cue like the pro she was, camera-ready, charisma bottled and branded. But notherself.
