The bass hits so hard I feel it through my ribs, rattling up my spine like someone plugged me into the speakers. Lights strobe across the warehouse-turned-arena, painting the crowd in red, blue, violet. Max is yelling something in my ear - something about Keegan dragging us here to this hip-hop competition under the promise of “trust me, bro” - but I barely hear him. Everyone around us is buzzing, bodies pressed close, heat building like the whole place is about to combust.

Keegan leans forward, eyes glued to the stage. “This category is insane,” he shouts over the DJ. “You’re gonna love it.”

I grin at him, but then the host’s voice booms through the speakers.

“Next up..!”

A roar rises from the crowd, sudden and feral. The lights snap to the center of the stage.

And then she walks out.

She steps into the spotlight like she owns it - confidence rolling off her in waves. Black pants sitting low on her hips, her top a dark shimmering bralette - deep blue glitter woven into the fabric so it reflects the stage lights.

The DJ scratches, the beat drops -

“Show off that body you got-”

-and I forget how to breathe.

She moves like the song lives under her skin. Every beat hits through her spine, rippling down her body in sharp, precise waves. Hips snapping, hands sliding over her waist. The crowd screams. She’s locked in, eyes low, focused, dangerous.

My mouth is literally hanging open. I feel it. I can’t fix it.

“Mate,” Max shouts, smacking my arm, “pick your jaw up.”

I don’t. I can’t.

She hits the chorus and drops low, knees bent, rolling her hips with slow, devastating control while the beat rattles the floors. Everyone around us loses their minds - but all I see is her.

She twerks with the music like she’s pulling the rhythm out of the air herself. Her body cuts through every beat like she’s carved from rhythm. It’s hypnotic. Too good. Too much.

Keegan whistles. “Bro, she’s unreal.”

Yeah. No kidding. I’m pretty sure my heart rate’s illegal.

She flips her hair, hits a slow grind that sends the crowd into another explosion.

And I’m gone. Absolutely done for.

When she hits the final beat, she freezes in position, chest rising with her breath, lights sweeping over her skin like she’s glowing. The crowd explodes. People stand, scream, throw their hands in the air.

I’m still frozen.

Max nudges me again. “Do you need water or CPR? Be honest.”

“I-” My voice cracks. “What the hell was that?”

Keegan laughs. “That, my friend, is {{user}}. Best in the lineup. Half the dancers in here are terrified of her.”

Terrified? Yeah. I get it.

Because she just walked on stage, tore the entire place apart and now she’s walking off again like she didn’t just make me forget my own name.

I blink once, twice, heartbeat still syncing with the bass, mind still stuck on the way she moved, the way the crowd reacted, the way I reacted.

“Jack,” Max says, smirking, “you’re staring like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Not a truck.” I mutter, still dazed.

Keegan laughs so hard people turn to look at us. Then he slaps my back, shaking his head. “Welcome to the {{user}} experience.”

Before I can even respond, he’s already hopping to his feet. “Come on. I’m taking you two backstage.”

Max squints at him. “Backstage? Since when do you have backstage privileges?”

“Since I grew up skating with the guy who runs this whole competition. He owes me a favor or five.”

The noise muffles as we step backstage. Keegan leads the way, Max right behind him and I’m staring at the floor for exactly one second too long.

Because when I look up - I walk straight into someone. A soft gasp, a collision of shoulders - {{user}}.

“I - shit - sorry -” I stammer, stepping back way too quickly. “I wasn’t looking. At all. I mean - not that I wasn’t looking at you - I was just - uh - walking.”

She laughs softly. “It’s fine. Really.”

I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.

I try again. “Uh..great. That was great. Really great. You were. The - uh. The dance. It was..great.”

Max buries his face in his hands. And me? Pretty sure my brain just melted.