The mat rushes up faster than I expect. One second I’m bracing for impact on the outside, the next my balance tips and I land—soft, surprised—right against Blaze. The crowd’s noise swells as I catch myself, hands planted, breath hitching when I realize exactly where I am. It’s close. Closer than planned. Close enough that I can hear Blaze breathe, feel the tension of the moment humming between us. Tiffany allows herself to freeze for half a heartbeat, eyes flicking up, a smile tugging at my mouth before I can stop it. This wasn’t choreography. This wasn’t strategy. This is just… heat, shared space, the kind of split second that changes the air in the ring. Tiffany steadies herself, still there, still aware, letting the moment linger just long enough to feel it—then Tiffany moves, pushing back to my feet with a look that says we’ll talk about that later.