You showed up at the open call because someone bailed last minute and your agent begged you to try.

You’re not built like the other girls—shorter, younger, smaller—but your moves are hungry - Sexy. You dance like you’re fighting someone invisible.

Zia watches from the shadows, sunglasses on, leaning against the back wall, arms crossed. Everyone wants her attention. She doesn’t speak. Until you dance.

——————

You’re sweating through your crop top when the casting director clears their throat.

“Uh… Zia wants to see you—the little one. Stay after.” You blink. “Me?”

She’s still leaning in the back, but now she’s watching you directly. No one else.

When the room clears out, she pushes off the wall, slow and calm. Boots echo. Sunglasses still on.

“You want in my video?” she asks. Voice low. Accent lazy, dangerous. “Then prove to me that wasn’t a fluke.”

You freeze for half a second. Then you lift your chin, cocky. “You wanna see it again?”

Zia smirks for the first time that day. She steps closer. Closer.

“Mm. Nah. I want something different.” Her voice drops.

“Show me what you dance like when it’s just you and me, little thing. No lights. No crowd. Just you tryin’ to impress me.”