Archive of Our Own

The dance studio in Los Angeles had a very specific smell at ten p.m.: a mix of maxed out AC, waxed hardwood floors, and the dried sweat of six girls who had been drilling the same choreography for four hours straight.

To the rest of the world, Katseye was unstoppable. The Coachella main stage lineup announcement had been the culmination of three years of insane work, red eye flights, and sold-out tours. But inside that mirrored room, the glamour didn't exist. It was just repetition, aching muscles, and shallow breaths.

For Sophia and Daniela, however, Coachella wasn't just the biggest show of their lives. It was a pressure cooker about to blow.
The mutual pull between them was never an event with a set start date. There was no grand declaration, no cinematic teen movie turning point. It was a slow, silent infiltration over years of uninterrupted proximity.

It started with the routine sharing of water bottles and exhausted naps with heads resting on each other's shoulders in the backseats of vans. Then, it evolved into stares that lingered two or three seconds too long through the mirror's reflection during choreo practice.

Sophia had always been the backbone of the group. The elegant posture, the steady voice in interviews, the almost automatic instinct to look out for the girls. She maintained that queen-like poise even in a simple gray sweatpants set, her dark, straight hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. But the weight of that responsibility took its toll, and Daniela knew that better than anyone.

Daniela was the complementary opposite.

While Sophia’s mind operated on a frequency of logistics and perfection, Daniela was pure physical energy. Almost always wearing baggy denim jorts and a white baby tee that left a sliver of tanned stomach exposed, her curly hair messy in a way that looked accidental, but that Sophia secretly loved to watch.

Touch had always been Daniela’s primary love language. She was affectionate with all the girls, but the way she touched Sophia had shifted over the last few months. It wasn't just celebratory hugs or stage bumps anymore. They were careful, quiet touches with a very clear purpose: to anchor Sophia to reality when the anxiety threatened to swallow her whole.

In the last three weeks of prep for the festival, the group's stress levels had skyrocketed. And with it, the dangerous proximity between the two of them.

It had become an unspoken game of endurance. Sophia tried to maintain control, focusing on harmonies and formations, but her own body betrayed her. Her stomach was constantly in knots, her perfectly manicured nails were now bitten down, and her right leg wouldn't stop bouncing whenever the choreographer mentioned the size of the crowd waiting for them in Indio.

Daniela noticed everything. And instead of teasing Sophia in a way that would make her lose her composure in front of the group, she operated in the margins.

If Sophia’s jaw was locked with tension as she reviewed a count in front of the mirror, Daniela would step right behind her, close enough for Sophia to feel her body heat, and subtly slide her hand across the base of the older girl’s spine. A firm, warm pressure, her thumb tracing an almost imperceptible circle. A touch too quick for the other members to notice, but intense enough to make Sophia’s breath hitch.

"Breathe," Daniela would whisper casually, brushing past her to grab a towel, leaving behind a trail of woody perfume mixed with the natural sweat of her skin.

It was in these micro moments that Sophia nearly lost control. Daniela’s unspoken affection — the concern disguised as physical proximity, the habit of pulling up a chair to sit pressed right against her thigh, the dark gaze fixed on Sophia’s lips when she talked too fast from nerves — was dismantling the leader’s defenses brick by brick.

The whole group shared the same space, the same oxygen, and the same pressure. Neither of them wanted to ruin the perfect dynamic they had with the other four members by risking a misstep. But now, only thirty-six hours away from boarding the tour bus heading to the California desert, the tension between them was no longer just a veiled backstage flirtation. It was a spark in a gas-filled room.

The final beat of “Pinky Up” blasted through the studio speakers, followed by a heavy silence broken only by the sound of six girls dragging air into their lungs.

Lara was the first to break the ending pose. She muttered a curse under her breath, folding forward with her hands braced on her knees. The black sports bra and sweatpants she was wearing clung to her skin.

“Okay, no. Absolutely not.”

Megan dropped flat onto the hardwood floor, the impact echoing through the room. She threw an arm over her eyes.

“I can’t feel my legs anymore. I swear to God, if Grant makes us run that ending one more time, I’m ending it all.”

Yoonchae simply slid down the mirror until she was sitting on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. Her expression remained placid, the picture of calm, but her chest was rising and falling a little too fast.

Sophia swallowed hard.

She forced herself to stay standing and walked toward the corner of the room where their water bottles were lined up. Her hands trembled slightly as she twisted the plastic cap open. She took a long drink, the ice-cold water scraping down her dry throat.

“The choreography isn’t the problem,” Manon murmured from where she was leaning against the wall.

She was wearing a beige sweatsuit, her curls piled into a messy high bun.

“It’s singing while sprinting down the runway. The breathing doesn’t line up.”

“What I’m scared of is running down the runway and nobody being there.”

Lara flopped onto the floor beside Megan, grabbing a towel.

“Have you guys actually thought about how huge the Sahara stage is? That thing is massive. Like, ridiculously massive. What if we walk out there and the tent is empty? Just twenty random people who got lost waiting for the next act?”

Sophia’s grip tightened around the water bottle hard enough for the plastic to crumple audibly.

Her stomach twisted.

That was exactly the thought keeping her awake at three in the morning in hotel rooms.

Katseye was huge. The numbers proved it.

But Coachella was an entirely different ecosystem.

“Stop it, Lara,” Sophia said, her voice coming out sharper than she’d intended.

She cleared her throat, trying to soften it.

“The festival sold out. There’ll be people there. We just need to focus on our formations.”

“I know, Soph, but it’s the first time we’re performing ‘Pinky Up,’” Megan argued from the floor. “The song leaked, the fandom is losing its mind on Twitter, and everyone’s expectations are through the roof. If we mess up that ending…”

“We’re not going to mess it up.”

Daniela’s voice cut through the room, low and calm.

She had been standing on the opposite side of the studio, but now she crossed the polished floor in slow, easy strides. Her low-rise jorts nearly dragged against the ground, and her white baby tee was stuck to her torso with sweat.

She stopped directly in front of Sophia and held out a hand without saying a word.

Sophia blinked, feeling her pulse hammer against her throat.

She handed over the water bottle.

Daniela took a slow sip, her dark eyes fixed on Sophia’s face for a second longer than necessary.

Then she handed it back.

In the process, her fingers brushed against Sophia’s cold knuckles.

The warmth of Daniela’s skin was absurd. It seemed to radiate outward, standing in direct contrast to the studio’s brutal air conditioning.

“Come sit down for a minute,” Daniela murmured, quietly enough that only Sophia could hear.

Her hand settled gently in the middle of the older girl’s back.

Sophia gave in.

She lowered herself onto the floor, crossing her legs as she joined the circle the others had formed. Daniela immediately sat beside her.

Close.

The Latina’s thigh brushed lightly against Sophia’s sweatpants whenever she shifted her weight.

“Honestly?” Manon sighed, opening a bag of gummy candy. She tossed one toward Yoonchae.

“If there’s only six people there, then we perform for six people. I’m more worried about the wind out there. My hair’s gonna turn into a bird’s nest.”

“You’d look gorgeous bald, Manon. Get over yourself.”

Megan rolled her eyes, earning a snort of laughter from Yoonchae.

“But seriously. The transition from ‘Pinky Up’ into ‘Debut.’ We need to go over it again.”

Sophia opened her mouth, ready to steer the technical discussion, ready to do what she always did as the group’s leader and organize the vocal cues.

But her throat tightened.

Her mind was running a hundred miles an hour.

The pressure of the dance break.

The massive stage waiting for them in Indio.

The dust.

The critics who would be evaluating every note she sang.

Her right leg started bouncing against the floor, fast and restless.

Then Daniela moved.

She leaned a little further into Sophia’s shoulder, pretending she was simply adjusting her position, Daniela casually let her left hand fall onto Sophia’s knee.

The pressure was firm.

Her thumb pressed against the bone through the fabric of Sophia’s sweatpants, stopping the bouncing immediately.

Sophia held her breath.

Daniela’s scent invaded her space—a mix of citrus soap, dried sweat from hours of rehearsing, and that warm, unmistakable smell that belonged only to her.

“You guys are spiraling for no reason,” Daniela said to the group.

Her voice was relaxed, almost lazy, her gaze drifting across the other members while her thumb continued pressing gently against Sophia’s knee.

“We’ve gone through ‘Pinky Up’ like a thousand times. The studio floor is practically sinking over there in the corner. We’re gonna be fine.”

“Easy for you to say when you don’t have to hold an F5 while running, Dani,” Lara groaned, dropping her head into Manon’s lap.

“You can do it. We can do it.”

Daniela replied.

Then she finally turned her head toward Sophia.

The proximity was dangerous.

If any of the girls paid close enough attention, they’d see the silent tension sitting between them.

Daniela smiled slightly.

A small, careful smile.

But there was still that familiar spark of mischief hidden behind it.

“Right, Soph?” she asked softly. “We know what we’re doing.”

Sophia felt heat creep into her cheeks.

She focused on Daniela’s brown eyes, trying to ignore the warm anchor of her hand resting on her leg.

She nodded slowly.

“Yeah. We do.”

Daniela’s hand slipped from Sophia’s knee and settled on the floor between them, her pinky finger intentionally brushing the outside of Sophia’s thigh.

A touch so subtle no one else in the room would notice.

Yet it screamed through Sophia’s nervous system.

She closed her eyes for a fraction of a second, the anxiety surrounding the festival colliding violently with the overwhelming urge to drag Daniela into one of the studio’s dark corners.

The silent bubble of tension between them burst at the sharp sound of a sneaker deliberately screeching across the hardwood floor.

“If we don’t eat something in the next twenty minutes, I swear to God I’m passing out right here and you’re all gonna have to drag my body out of this studio.”

Megan had slid down the mirror until she was sprawled on the floor, arms spread wide as she stared up at the bright white ceiling lights.

Lara snorted, wiping a towel across the back of her neck. Dark strands of hair clung to her flushed cheeks.

“And no salad quotas tonight. My body is literally crying for help. What are we ordering?”

Yoonchae, who somehow still looked annoyingly calm despite having spent the last four minutes throwing herself around the studio, pulled her phone from the pocket of her baggy sweatpants.

“That Thai place we ordered from last Tuesday is open, but the app says forty minutes.”

“Forty minutes?” Lara grimaced, tossing the towel aside. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I burn through that many calories just breathing in this air conditioning. I need processed carbs immediately.”

“McDonald’s.”

Daniela’s voice drifted through the room, relaxed and barely above a murmur.

She finally shifted away from Sophia, breaking their physical contact completely. The studio’s cold air immediately rushed into the tiny space where Daniela’s body heat had been, and Sophia let out a slow, controlled breath, trying not to make her sudden awareness too obvious.

Daniela shifted her weight onto one leg and hooked her thumbs into the front pockets of her jorts.

“A double Quarter Pounder with extra cheese would solve about ninety percent of my problems right now.”

Across the room, Manon made a face of disapproval. She was gathering her curls into a loose ponytail with a fabric scrunchie.

“Sohey’s going to have a stroke if he finds out we ordered fast food to the studio at midnight before Coachella. He spent the entire breakfast talking about anti-inflammatory diets and stage bloating.”

“Sohey isn’t here, though.” Megan was already climbing to her feet, energy instantly returning at the mention of food. “He’s probably asleep in a nice comfortable bed while our calves are throbbing. I’m with Dani. Give me a bacon cheeseburger, extra cheddar, and the biggest fries they’ve got. Screw the bloating.”

Sophia blinked several times, forcing her mind out of Daniela’s gravitational pull.

She swallowed hard.

She needed to be the leader. Focus on the group. Do literally anything that would distract her from her own thoughts and the lingering warmth she could still feel where Daniela had been touching her.

“Fine. Fast food.”

Sophia gave in, pulling her phone from the pocket of her sweatshirt. The screen illuminated her face in the dim studio.

“But we need it delivered to the side entrance. The security guard over there never tells anyone. The one at the front desk is a gossip.”

The room descended into organized chaos over the next five minutes.

Megan and Lara immediately began shouting their orders over each other while Lara practically crawled across the floor toward Sophia to stare at the screen.

“No, Soph, take the pickles off mine. Please.”

“Hold on, let me add Manon’s fries first.”

Sophia’s fingers moved rapidly across the app as she tried to organize six different meal combinations.

She felt in control again.

This was familiar territory.

Managing the group, taking care of the girls, solving practical problems.

But Daniela remained exactly where she was, less than three feet away.

While the other five loudly debated soda versus milkshakes, Daniela simply watched Sophia.

Sophia could feel the weight of that dark gaze against the side of her face.

Every time she glanced up from the screen, even for a split second, she caught Daniela staring.

Her jaw relaxed.

Her arms loosely crossed beneath her chest.

That same quiet intensity burning beneath the surface.

“There. Done.”

Sophia sighed, confirming the order.

“Forty dollars’ worth of bacon and cheddar. The label is going to love putting that on the company card.”

She locked her phone and looked around at the group.

“About fifteen minutes. Someone’s gonna have to sneak downstairs and grab it from the delivery driver. We need to be quick before anyone from the tour staff catches us.”

“I’ll go with you, Soph.”

Daniela answered far too quickly.

The tone sounded casual enough to everyone else, but the trap was already set in the way she uncrossed her arms and took half a step toward her.

Sophia froze.

The route to the side entrance involved two long, empty hallways and, worst of all, the elevator.

Three entire minutes trapped together in a tiny space.

Bad lighting.

No witnesses.

After what had happened with Daniela’s hand on her knee earlier, Sophia knew exactly how little self-control she currently possessed.

Daniela knew it too.

That tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth was living proof she was testing the limits.

“No need.”

Sophia cut in immediately, adjusting the collar of her sweatshirt with one hand.

Her voice came out sharper than intended.

She looked away from Daniela so quickly it was almost suspicious and focused on Megan instead.

“Megan’s coming with me. Right, Meg? You can help carry the drinks.”

Megan looked up.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. Sure.”

She was already distracted, busy fighting with a stubborn shoelace.

Sophia didn’t dare look to her left, but she still heard the low, rough sound of Daniela laughing through her nose.

The laugh of someone who had just confirmed a theory.

Daniela didn’t push. She simply shrugged and took a step backward, letting her shoulders rest against the cold wall once more.

“Whatever the boss wants.”

Ten minutes crawled by.

The hum of the air conditioning seemed louder now that exhaustion was beginning to settle into everyone’s muscles.

When Sophia’s phone buzzed with the delivery notification, she was the first one on her feet.

“Come on, Meg.”

She tightened her ponytail.

Her voice sounded steady, but the pace of her steps toward the door was far too quick, almost like she was escaping.

Megan groaned dramatically as she pushed herself upright and grabbed her keychain.

“If this guy forgets the barbecue sauce, I swear I’m making him come back.”

Sophia pulled open the studio’s heavy soundproof door.

The muffled sounds of the city and the slightly warmer hallway air flooded inside for two brief seconds before the metal door clicked shut behind them.

The silence that settled over the studio was immediate.

Dense.

Lara was the first to break it.

She released a long breath and stretched her legs across the hardwood floor, letting her head fall back.

“She’s one step away from having a complete breakdown.”

She didn’t need to say Sophia’s name.

Everyone knew exactly who she meant.

Manon nodded.

She slid farther down the mirror until she was lying flat on her back, staring at the ceiling.

“Completely. Did you see her jaw while we were reviewing formations? I thought she was going to crack a tooth.”

“It’s her leg.”

Yoonchae hugged her knees tighter.

“Her right leg won’t stop bouncing.”

Her voice was soft.

Yoonchae had always been the most observant member of the group, quietly noticing things everyone else missed.

“She only does that when she’s trying really hard not to spiral.”

Daniela remained exactly where she was.

Back against the wall, one knee bent.

She didn’t say anything at first.

Just listened.

The same hand that had been resting on Sophia’s knee earlier now rubbed slowly at the back of her own neck, where dried sweat made her skin itch.

“She’s trying to hold it together for us.”

Manon turned her head to look at Lara and Yoonchae.

“She knows that if she starts showing how terrified she is about the festival, the rest of us will fall apart too. Grant put a ridiculous amount of pressure on her yesterday about ‘Pinky Up.’”

“I know.”

Lara sat cross legged and cracked her knuckles one by one.

“But the problem is that she absorbs everything by herself. She thinks she has to be Katseye’s pillar twenty four hours a day. She’s hiding how nervous she is because she’s trying to protect us.”

“And she’s doing a terrible job because everyone can feel it.”

Yoonchae let out a small laugh.

Daniela swallowed.

The conversation was only confirming things she’d known for days.

“She hasn’t been sleeping.”

Her voice finally cut through the room, lower than usual.

Lara and Manon both looked at her immediately.

Daniela held their gaze.

Expression neutral.

“You can hear her pacing around the hotel room at night. She gets up, walks to the minibar, opens it, closes it, goes back to bed. Then she listens to rehearsal tracks on repeat until sunrise.”

Daniela looked down briefly.

“Her body’s here. Her head’s been on that stage for days.”

Manon’s expression softened immediately.

“We need to take some of that weight off her tomorrow at technical rehearsal. If she sees that we’re completely solid on the choreography, maybe she’ll relax and focus on her own vocals.”

“Yeah.”

Lara nodded.

“Tomorrow we handle more of the staff stuff and let her breathe.”

The group seemed to settle into a silent agreement.

But Daniela already knew it wouldn’t work.

She looked down at the scuffed tip of her sneaker, a small cynical smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Sophia wasn’t the type of person who shut her brain off just because everyone else was doing well.

Her perfectionism was a machine fueled by control.

And the only thing capable of making Sophia let go was something powerful enough to knock the air from her lungs.

'Focus on her vocals' Daniela thought.

Her jaw tightened slightly as an image flashed through her mind.

No.

What Sophia needed wasn’t silence.

It wasn’t space.

It was something strong enough to drown out the deafening noise inside her head.

Daniela pushed herself away from the wall, the scrape of rubber against hardwood breaking the silence.

“I’m sleeping in her room tonight.”

The announcement came casually.

Almost lazily.

She crossed the room toward her backpack and bent down to grab a clean towel.

The movement looked careless.

Perfectly calculated to hide how fast her heart had started beating.

Manon raised an eyebrow.

“You think she’s just gonna let you confiscate her phone and headphones? That’s gonna be a war, Dani.”

“She won’t have much of a choice.”

Daniela shrugged, dragging the towel across the back of her neck.

“If we leave Sophia alone tonight, she’s gonna spend the entire night standing in front of a mirror reviewing harmonies. She’ll show up to technical rehearsal looking like a zombie.”

Yoonchae laughed quietly.

“Good luck dealing with the queen of control.”

“And one more thing.”

Daniela tossed the towel back into her bag and crossed her arms.

“Tomorrow morning, before they load us onto the tour bus, I’m taking her to one of the hotel studios.”

Lara sat up straighter.

“For what?”

“To clean up the runway transition and the dance break.”

Daniela’s answer came instantly.

“Her insecurity isn’t about the vocals. It’s the new stage blocking. I’ll run through it with her. Just the two of us. No Grant screaming counts through a megaphone. No distractions.”

The logic was impossible to argue with.

The room fell quiet.

As the group’s main dancer, Daniela was the only person Sophia consistently trusted to take charge without trying to regain control herself.

“She trusts my counts,” Daniela continued. “If we lock in the muscle memory tomorrow morning, she’ll actually be able to relax on the bus.”

Manon nodded slowly.

“That’s fair. She’ll definitely feel better if you tell her it’s clean.”

“Leave it to me.”

Daniela’s smile returned.

Giving absolutely nothing away.

Then her gaze drifted toward the studio door.

On the surface, the plan was perfect.

Professional, reasonable.

Exactly the kind of thing a concerned groupmate would do for an overwhelmed leader.

The plan was perfect on the surface.

It sounded purely technical. The classic kind of concern from a groupmate trying to save her leader’s sanity.

But Daniela’s blood ran faster every time she imagined the logistics of the next few hours.

Sharing a hotel room.

Invading Sophia’s personal space in the dark.

And tomorrow, having Sophia entirely to herself inside a private studio.

She’d correct every movement.

Press her body against Sophia’s back under the excuse of fixing her posture.

Guide her through the mirror until Sophia's mind short circuited before they even stepped onto the tour bus.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the heavy soundproof door, reality was operating on a completely different frequency.

The metallic slam of the door shutting behind them drowned out the hum of the air conditioning.

The hallway outside smelled faintly of old carpet and industrial cleaning products.

Sophia walked quickly toward the freight elevator at the far end of the corridor.

Her posture remained flawless.

Her shoulders didn’t.

They were far too tense beneath the fabric of her sweatshirt.

“Slow down, Usain Bolt.”

Megan dragged her feet behind her.

“The food isn’t gonna run away.”

Sophia didn’t answer.

She stopped in front of the elevator and pressed the call button three times in quick succession.

Far harder than necessary.

Megan leaned against the peeling wall beside her and simply watched.

Sophia’s breathing was shallow, her chest rose and fell too quickly.

The fingers of her free hand had started picking at the skin around her thumb.

The elevator groaned somewhere below them.

“You know assaulting the button doesn’t make it come faster, right?”

Sophia immediately pulled her hand away.

“I know.”

She swallowed.

“I’m just in a hurry. If somebody catches us bringing outside food in, Sohey’s gonna kill us tomorrow.”

“Sohey can survive.”

Megan rolled her eyes and poked Sophia in the ribs.

“The delivery guy is absolutely gonna think we’re extras from a zombie movie. Look at me. If somebody leaks a picture of me buying fries looking like this, my career’s over before Coachella even starts.”

A breath escaped Sophia’s nose.

Almost a laugh.

“You’re fine, Meg. Exhausted, but fine.”

The elevator arrived.

The doors slid open with a metallic groan.

The interior smelled like machine oil and dust.

Both girls stepped inside.

Megan hit the button for the ground floor.

The elevator lurched downward.

The humor disappeared from Megan’s face instantly.

She turned toward Sophia.

The chaotic energy she usually carried gave way to something more observant.

“You look sick, Soph.”

“I’m fine.”

Sophia stared at the digital floor numbers above the door.

“The studio air just made me a little dizzy.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Megan stepped closer inside the tiny elevator.

“It’s the new stage, isn’t it?”

Sophia’s jaw tightened.

The giant runway.

The massive tent.

The fear she’d been trying to bury all day.

She closed her eyes for one full second.

When she opened them again, something in her posture cracked.

“I don’t want to ruin this for you guys.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“We worked for years to get our name that high on the poster. If I miss the count during the runway transition, I throw off the entire choreography. I’m supposed to be the leader. I’m supposed to anchor everyone, but today I could barely remember which leg comes after the chorus.”

Megan shook her head immediately.

“No.”

She grabbed Sophia’s wrist.

“Stop that. Right now.”

The elevator continued descending.

“You’ve rehearsed this routine so many times the studio floor is practically caving in. You’re not gonna mess up. And even if you do? Who cares.”

Sophia looked at her.

“If the microphone dies, you sing louder. If the whole stage catches fire, we jump into the crowd. You’ve been carrying this group since Dream Academy.”

The knot in Sophia’s chest loosened. Just slightly.

“You think we don’t see you trying to hide how nervous you are?”

Megan smiled.

“You’re ridiculous, Soph. You walk onstage, hit notes I genuinely don’t understand, and the rest of us follow. That’s how it’s always worked.”

She squeezed Sophia’s wrist.

“We follow you.”

For the first time in three nights, Sophia felt the crushing weight on her chest ease.

Not disappear.

Just loosen enough for her to breathe.

She laughed softly and leaned her head back against the metal wall.

“I hate when you say smart things. It completely ruins your brand.”

“I know. It’s exhausting.”

Megan flipped her hair dramatically.

The elevator doors opened.

Warm Los Angeles night air rushed inside.

Along with the unmistakable smell of fries, grease, and McDonald’s.

The delivery driver was waiting outside with two massive paper bags already stained with oil at the bottom.

Sophia took them from him. The heat from the bags warmed her cold hands instantly.

A few minutes later, she pushed open the studio door with her hip.

But the sight waiting for her stole her breath all over again.

The studio was too quiet.

The girls, who should have been sprawled across the floor complaining about sore muscles, were sitting in a loose circle.

And Daniela was standing.

Facing the door, waiting.

The confidence Megan had managed to rebuild inside her evaporated the second her eyes met Daniela’s.

“The feast has arrived.”

Sophia’s voice came out perfectly controlled.

Exactly the tone she wanted.

But the way the paper handles dug into her fingers gave her away.

She looked directly at Daniela.

“Did we miss anything?”

“Nothing.”

Daniela’s low voice cut across the studio and hit her instantly.

She crossed the room in slow steps to take the bags from Sophia’s hands, deliberately brushing her warm knuckles against the cold skin of Sophia’s wrist.

The smell of hot cardboard, salt, and saturated grease knocked out the sterile studio air in less than ten seconds.

The sound of Megan tearing both brown paper bags open echoed through the room, followed by ice knocking against plastic soda cups.

Within moments, all six of them were sitting in a crooked circle on the waxed wooden floor, surrounded by red and yellow boxes, ketchup packets, and crumpled napkins.

“If Sohey smells bacon in my sweat tomorrow, I’m blaming the whole thing on Megan,” Lara warned through a mouthful of food, holding her burger with both hands while trying not to drip sauce down her black top.

“I’ll proudly take responsibility for that,” Megan answered, already halfway through her cheeseburger.

She let out an exaggerated groan of satisfaction and leaned her head back against the mirror.

“I swear I was starting to hallucinate. Manon literally looked like a french fry to me during the last ten minutes of rehearsal.”

Manon let out a nasal laugh and grabbed three fries at once.

“Hey. I’m way prettier than a french fry, Megan. Pass me the napkins, Chae.”

Yoonchae slid a stack of napkins across the floor toward her, quietly eating while watching the group’s dynamic with her usual calm expression.

Sophia was sitting between Megan and Daniela.

The contrast was impossible to miss.

While everyone else devoured their food like they hadn’t eaten in days, Sophia held a single nugget by the edge, turning it between her fingers like she was studying the texture.

Her stomach was tied into a tight knot.

The conversation in the elevator had eased the suffocating feeling in her chest, but the idea of eating fried food at ten p.m. with nerves still buzzing under her skin felt physically impossible.

She brought the food to her mouth and took a small bite.

Chewed slowly.

Forced her throat to swallow.

Daniela noticed immediately.

She was eating her burger properly, sitting sprawled out with one elbow resting on her knee.

She chewed, swallowed, then turned her head.

Her eyes dropped directly to Sophia’s hands before drifting up to her profile.

Daniela’s jaw tightened slightly.

“Eat properly, Soph. One nugget isn’t gonna keep you standing tomorrow.”

Her voice came out slightly muffled by food, but still carried that low, direct tone she only ever used with her.

“I’m eating,” Sophia murmured without looking at her.

She grabbed a fry and shoved it into her mouth.

Daniela answered immediately.

“You’ve been chewing that nugget for three minutes.”

She stretched her arm across the tiny space between them and grabbed a loose napkin near Sophia’s knee.

On the way back, she let her elbow brush lightly against Sophia’s ribs.

A quick touch. Casual to anyone watching.

Enough to send a sharp pulse straight down Sophia’s spine.

“I’m just not that hungry,” Sophia defended quietly, straightening her posture and moving away from the contact.

She cleared her throat and raised her voice slightly, redirecting attention back to the circle.

“What time exactly is the team picking up luggage at the hotel tomorrow?”

“Eight a.m.,” Manon answered, licking salt off her fingers.

“Are we going straight to soundcheck or back to the hotel?” Lara asked, grabbing her drink.

“Straight to the stage.”

Sophia answered automatically, her logistics brain taking over.

“Grant wants to run the runway transition in the dark so we can test the light. Then we go to the hotel and sleep.”

Megan crushed her burger wrapper into a perfect ball and threw it toward the trash can across the room.

It hit the rim and bounced out.

“Speaking of sleeping, everyone needs to pass out on the ride. Headphones and sleep masks. I don’t wanna hear a single sound on that bus.”

“I can sleep anywhere. My problem is tonight,” Yoonchae murmured while finishing her drink.

She looked directly at Sophia.

“Are you actually gonna sleep tonight, Soph? Because if you spend all night pacing around the room again like yesterday, I swear I’m gonna get violent.”

Sophia froze.

Her hand tightened around the fry carton.

She opened her mouth to come up with one of her usual excuses—to say she’d drink tea or that she’d crash immediately from exhaustion.

But Daniela’s voice cut through before she could say anything.

“She’ll sleep.”

The answer came out of nowhere, heavy.

The entire group stopped chewing for half a second.

Manon and Lara exchanged a quick glance.

Sophia turned so fast she felt something pull in her neck.

She stared at Daniela, dark eyes widening in genuine confusion mixed with sudden panic.

Daniela didn’t move.

She dropped the rest of her food back into the yellow box, wiped her fingers on a napkin, and held Sophia’s gaze.

Her expression was perfectly neutral.

But underneath it, the provocation burned clear.

“I’m sleeping in your room tonight.”

Daniela said it to Sophia like she was commenting on the weather.

Then she turned toward Yoonchae.

“We switch, Chae. You room with Manon. I’ll stay with Soph and make sure she actually sleeps.”

“What? No, you don’t have to do that, Dani.”

Sophia answered too fast.

Panic leaked into her voice.

Her heart skipped.

Sleeping in the same room?

In the impossible silence of the middle of the night?

Alone?

After everything that had been building over the last few weeks?

“I’m tired. I’ll sleep right away, I promise. Yoonchae doesn’t need to switch rooms in the middle of the night—”

“It’s already decided, Soph.”

Daniela interrupted.

She leaned forward.

Her face moved within inches of Sophia’s, completely taking over the leader’s peripheral vision.

The smell of soap and body heat filled the space again.

“You need a babysitter tonight. If I catch you getting out of bed to rehearse staging in the middle of the night, I’m dragging you back onto the mattress by your ankle.”

Lara laughed from across the room and tossed her empty wrapper aside.

“Good luck, Dani. She seriously needs someone controlling her hyperactive brain today. Switch with her, Chae. For the good of the nation.”

“Deal. My stuff’s all over the chair anyway, just shove it aside.”

Yoonchae shrugged and sealed the arrangement without thinking twice.

To everyone else, this was normal.

Daniela taking physical control of the situation to take care of their leader, who was clearly on the edge of stress collapse.

But for Sophia—

the trap had just snapped shut around her neck.

She looked at Daniela with parted lips and breath stuck in her chest.

Daniela stared back.

A slow, arrogant smile appeared at the corner of her mouth as she raised one eyebrow.

A silent challenge thrown right there between burger boxes.

Try running from me now.

Sophia let the red carton slip onto the wooden floor.

Her appetite—which had already barely existed—collapsed completely.

Suddenly, the air in the studio felt too warm to breathe.

The banquet lasted exactly fifteen minutes before exhaustion hit all at once.

The adrenaline from heavy food burned off fast, leaving behind nothing but the day’s accumulated fatigue. Empty boxes and crushed cups were quickly shoved back into the brown paper bags and thrown into the trash near the door.

“Seriously, if I don’t take these clothes off right now, they’re gonna fuse to my ribs.”

Lara complained, pulling at the strap of the black fabric stuck to her skin with dried sweat.

She grabbed her backpack from the corner of the room.

“I’m gonna use the locker room shower before we head back to the hotel.”

“I’m coming too. Need to wash my face.”

Megan grumbled while picking her bag up from the floor.

She glanced around.

“Anyone else changing?”

Manon and Yoonchae stood up in sync, both muttering that they needed to wash their faces and change into clean clothes for the ride back.

“I’m grabbing a dry shirt from my locker.”

Daniela announced while stretching.

Her arms lifted over her head, making the white shirt ride up and reveal the line of her stomach.

Then she turned toward Sophia, who was picking up an empty water bottle.

“You staying?”

“Yeah. Just gonna stretch my lower back a little. My back’s all locked up.”

Sophia answered without looking directly at her, suddenly very focused on lining up the leftover bags in the corner.

“Okay. Don’t take too long.”

Daniela murmured before following the other four out.

The heavy soundproof door shut with a click, sealing the studio. The silence that settled afterward felt deafening.

Only the constant hum of the AC remained.

Sophia let out a breath and finally allowed her shoulders to drop.

Five minutes alone. That was all she needed to recalibrate her brain.

But her body refused to stay still.

The Coachella tension felt trapped in her calves.

She walked toward the middle of the room and stopped in front of the giant mirror stretching across the wall.

The reflection showed exactly what everyone else saw.

The flawless leader.

The neat ponytail.

The perfect posture.

But inside her head—

noise.

Her right foot slid across the polished floor before she even realized it.

She started marking the Pinky Up outro.

The critical moment.

She repeated the movement.

Three quick steps forward.

Heel.

Turn.

No.

Her support foot was off.

Her weight dropped to the wrong side.

She exhaled sharply and reset.

Three quick steps.

Heel.

Turn.

Her left shoulder lifted too much.

Her neck locked.

Her stomach twisted.

In front of tens of thousands of people, that would be a disaster.

The thought of ruining five other girls’ perfect work tightened around her throat.

The metal handle turned slowly.

But Sophia was so focused on her reflection she never heard the door open.

Daniela stepped into the studio silently.

She had changed out of the damp baby tee into a loose black cotton shirt.

Her curls were down now, falling heavy over her shoulders.

She stopped a few feet away and watched Sophia fight with the mirror.

Sophia repeated the transition again.

Face tense. Breath held. Jaw locked.

“You’re throwing your hips too early.”

Daniela’s low voice echoed through the empty room.

Sophia startled hard enough to trip over her own sneaker.

She stopped instantly.

Sophia swallowed and looked at her through the mirror.

Daniela walked closer in soft steps.

Her sneakers barely made noise against the wood.

“I… I lost the count in my head.”

Sophia tried to justify herself while adjusting the sleeve of her hoodie.

Her voice wavered slightly.

Daniela stopped directly behind her.

“You didn’t. You know the count.”

Her voice stayed calm.

“You’re just stiff from nerves and putting all your weight on your left leg.”

The proximity was immediate.

The cold studio air disappeared under the warmth of Daniela’s body hovering almost flush against Sophia’s back.

They looked at each other through the mirror.

Daniela’s dark eyes stayed fixed on her face.

“Relax your knee.”

Her voice dropped lower.

Almost a murmur against the back of Sophia’s neck.

Daniela lifted her hands slowly.

Warm palms settled against the sides of Sophia’s waist over the thick hoodie.

Every muscle in Sophia’s back locked instantly.

The touch was firm. Professional.

Only there to fix her posture.

But Sophia’s brain short circuited anyway.

“The turn comes from the ball of your foot, not your heel.”

Daniela kept explaining.

Her hands moved from Sophia’s waist to her hips, adjusting her alignment.

The clean cotton of Daniela’s black shirt brushed lightly against Sophia’s back when she leaned forward.

Sophia stopped breathing.

The citrus soap on Daniela’s skin mixed with the soft vanilla perfume Sophia had worn.

The silence inside the studio made everything feel too loud.

Fabric shifting.

Daniela’s calm breathing against the exposed skin below Sophia’s ponytail.

Her own heartbeat hammering in her ears.

And then the technical focus dissolved.

Daniela stopped adjusting her.

Her hands stayed resting at Sophia’s waist.

Her fingers tightened slightly against the fabric.

In the mirror, Daniela’s eyes drifted from Sophia’s face down to her neck.

Slowly, driven by something neither of them fully controlled—

Daniela leaned forward.

Her nose brushed almost imperceptibly against the warm skin just behind Sophia’s ear.

She inhaled.

Slow.

Deep.

Drawn out.

Taking in Sophia’s scent.

Her warmth.

Daniela’s lips got close enough that Sophia could feel the damp heat of her breath directly against her racing pulse.

One second.

An endless second.

One second where every wall built out of friendship, control, and professionalism tilted dangerously close to collapse.

Sophia closed her eyes.

Her whole body leaned back slightly.

Almost giving in to Daniela’s weight.

Desire swallowed the show anxiety whole.

But survival instinct and fear screamed louder.

Sophia’s eyes snapped open.

The panic of crossing that line — here.

In the middle of the studio.

With the rest of the group able to open the door at any second — hit harder.

She stepped forward abruptly, breaking the contact with an awkward jolt.

Cold air hit her back immediately.

“I… I need water.”

Sophia stammered, her voice failed.

She hurried toward the counter across the room and grabbed the first plastic bottle she saw.

Her hands shook so badly she could barely unscrew the cap.

Daniela stayed exactly where she was, standing in the middle of the floor. Her hands slowly dropped to her sides.

Her breathing was heavy too now, her chest rising and falling fast beneath the black t-shirt. She stared at her own hands for two seconds before shaking her head and swallowing hard.

Neither of them looked at the other.

The elephant in the room had just grown and crushed both of them, but they pretended nothing was there.

Denial was their safe harbor.

Sophia took a long sip of water, both hands braced against the counter, shoulders curled inward. The embarrassment of pulling away fought with the embarrassment of almost giving in.

The silence dragged until it became unbearable.

"Soph."

Daniela’s voice sounded different.

There was no teasing in it. No lazy, cynical tone of someone testing boundaries, none of that hidden flirtation she used to get under her skin.

It was just Daniela.

Sophia didn’t turn around.

"Yeah."

She heard Daniela’s slow footsteps approaching, but this time Daniela stopped at a safe distance, leaning her hip against the counter beside her, facing her while respecting the line Sophia had just drawn so awkwardly.

"Look at me."

Sophia tightened her fingers around the plastic bottle, but finally turned her head.

Her heart was still racing, but the expression on Daniela’s face disarmed her.

Her dark eyes were soft.

"You’re torturing yourself for nothing. That transition you think you’re messing up? You didn’t miss it once during the ten hours we rehearsed. You got it right every single time."

"It didn’t feel right." Sophia murmured, her rigid posture starting to loosen. "Tomorrow we travel, and if I step wrong on that runway ramp, we—"

"We nothing." Daniela interrupted gently but firmly. She crossed her arms loosely. "You’re not gonna step wrong. You know how I know? Because ever since I met you back at Dream Academy, I’ve never seen you take a step without knowing exactly where your foot was gonna land. You’re insanely methodical with your body."

"But what about the pressure, Dani? The tent is huge. And what if when I go for the note, my voice disappears? The dust, the wind… If I stop to look at that ocean of people, I’m gonna freeze."

Daniela uncrossed her arms.

She had the instinct to touch Sophia, to hold her hand, but stopped herself.

Instead, she leaned in slightly, making sure she had her full attention.

"Then don’t look at them."

Sophia frowned.

"What do you mean don’t look at them?"

"Look at me." Daniela said, seriousness leaving no room for doubt. "I’ll be on the main stage. I’m your visual marker."

Sophia blinked slowly.

Her breathing began to steady, unconsciously syncing with Daniela’s calm rhythm.

"Sohey said I should focus on camera three on the crane—"

"Screw Sohey’s camera. The camera’s not gonna give you the note." — Daniela huffed, letting out a short laugh, the corners of her eyes softening. "When you get to the end of that ramp, you look straight at me in the back. Focus on my boots or whatever, my movement. The whole time, Sophia. You don’t need to look at a hundred thousand people if you don’t want to. You sing to me, transition back into formation, and then we hold it together during the dance break. I’m not leaving you alone in the dark on that stage. None of us are."

Sophia’s chest emptied of all the air she’d been holding.

The crushing terror of Coachella suddenly shrank into something real, familiar:

Daniela’s dark eyes through the smoke on stage.

It wasn’t a game. It wasn’t teasing.

It was a concrete safety net being built beneath her.

"You promise you’ll be there?" Sophia whispered, hating how childish the question sounded but needing to hear the answer.

The smile Daniela gave wasn’t her usual one.

It was the smile she saved for silent late nights, when nobody else was watching.

Quiet devotion.

"Right in front of you. I’d never leave my mark while you’re center, Soph. Trust me."

Something inside Sophia finally unclenched.

The knot crushing her throat and locking her lower back since the moment she woke up simply gave out.

She exhaled all at once, feeling her shoulders drop and all the tension spill out of her muscles.

Without thinking, ignoring every invisible boundary and the retreat from minutes earlier.

Sophia took the two short steps needed to erase the distance between them.

She slowly lifted her arms and wrapped them around Daniela’s neck, letting the full weight of her body lean forward into a hug made entirely of relief and gratitude.

The contact caught Daniela completely off guard.

Her body went rigid instantly.

Her dark eyes widened as she stared at the opposite wall, unable to process the sudden shift.

Her hands stayed suspended in the air, fingers open a few inches from Sophia’s waist, frozen by the fear of touching and ruining the moment—

or realizing she had understood everything wrong after being pushed away before.

Daniela’s heart stuttered violently.

Then took off at an uneven rhythm, pounding straight against Sophia’s chest.

Sophia didn’t care about the stiffness.

She only hugged tighter, burying her face in the warm curve between Daniela’s shoulder and neck.

A long, shaky sigh full of exhaustion escaped the leader’s lips, warm air brushing directly against Daniela’s skin.

"Thank you…" Sophia whispered, voice muffled and unsteady against her skin.

Not rehearsed. Not performative. A real need.

"Thank you for holding me together, Dani."

Feeling Sophia actually leaning into her like that, stripped of every professional layer, hearing the tremor in the voice that always tried to sound unbreakable—

something in Daniela gave way.

She let out a heavy breath through her nose and relaxed.

Her long arms came up at once around Sophia’s waist with overwhelming certainty.

Her right hand spread across the middle of Sophia’s back, fingers closing over the hoodie fabric as she pulled her in until there wasn’t a single inch left between them.

The atmosphere in the studio changed instantly.

All that dangerous electricity and the heavy spark that had been burning through the air disappeared.

What replaced it was something quieter.

Heavier.

Two women who knew exactly how much they were carrying, and who depended on each other completely to keep KATSEYE from sinking.

Sophia closed her eyes.

Breathing in the familiar smell of rehearsal sweat mixed with the sweet perfume Daniela always wore.

Daniela’s heartbeat, slowly calming now, settled into something steady against Sophia’s ribs.

Daniela simply tilted her head and rested her chin firmly on top of Sophia’s dark hair.

She closed her eyes too.

Holding her tighter.

Her hand began moving slowly up and down Sophia’s back.

The thick silence wrapping around the hug broke apart with a loud, dramatic laugh echoing through the hallway.

Megan.

Immediately followed by Lara’s voice.

Their footsteps grew louder.

Daniela’s hand stopped.

She turned toward the heavy studio door but didn’t break contact right away.

She only leaned back a few inches—

just enough for the cold air to slip between them and cool the heat trapped between their bodies.

Daniela looked down at Sophia again.

That quiet gravity from before softened into something lighter.

Her hands slid from Sophia’s back and rested loosely at her waist, keeping the anchor there for one more second.

"And I meant it about sleeping in your room tonight." Daniela said quietly so it wouldn’t carry through the door, leaving absolutely no room for negotiation.

Her thumb brushed once against the hem of Sophia’s gray hoodie.

"If you want to stay up all night going over the runway transition, we’ll go over it. But I’m not leaving you alone in that room to cook your own brain before the trip."

The heavy metal handle turned.

This time, Sophia didn’t feel that familiar instinct to step back and fix her posture like she always did when the others walked in.

She didn’t argue, didn’t put the professional armor back on, didn’t look for excuses to run from what Daniela was offering.

She just looked at the younger girl’s face.

Felt her own breathing steady again.

A small smile curved her lips.

"Okay." Sophia murmured softly just as the door began opening.

"You’re sleeping with me tonight."

The hallway on the tenth floor of the hotel was too quiet. The thick carpet swallowed their exhausted footsteps, and the soft yellow lighting along the walls gave everything a sluggish, dreamlike feeling.

Sophia walked ahead, holding the keycard, her shoulders feeling a thousand pounds heavier.

Daniela followed right behind, backpack hanging carelessly off one shoulder, dragging the soles of her sneakers lightly across the floor.

The electronic beep of the door unlocking echoed loudly through the empty hallway. Sophia pushed the heavy wood open with her hip.

The room’s AC had been blasting since earlier that day, and a wave of freezing air hit them immediately, carrying the neutral scent of clean sheets mixed with the faintest trace of vanilla perfume Sophia had put on before they left for the studio that morning.

Daniela walked in after her and shut the door with her foot. The sound of the automatic lock sealing the world outside made Sophia release a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

The room was huge, standard for the suites the label paid for, with two perfectly made queen beds and blackout curtains already closed, turning the place into a cold, dark cave.

Daniela tossed her backpack onto the armchair in the corner. Without ceremony, she stepped out of her sneakers by crushing the backs of them and kicked both pairs under the coffee table.

She rolled her shoulders back, the sharp crack of vertebrae cutting through the silence.

Sophia stayed frozen halfway into the room, still holding her bag.

Being in the same enclosed space with Daniela, without the other four girls there to diffuse the tension, completely changed the gravity of the room.

The memory of the studio — Daniela’s nose brushing her neck, the heat of her body against Sophia’s back — screamed inside her head.

“Are you showering first or am I?”

Daniela asked, her rough voice sounding completely normal, like nothing had happened.

She pulled the oversized black shirt off over her head in one quick motion, leaving herself in just a sports bra and jorts.

Sophia swallowed hard and looked toward the bathroom door too quickly.

“You can go. I’m gonna… unpack my bag.”

“Liar.”

Daniela cut her off instantly.

She walked over barefoot and stopped right in front of her, extending one hand, palm up. The warmth radiating from her exposed skin clashed violently against the freezing room.

“You’re gonna sit there, open Twitter, and scroll through mentions looking for theories about tomorrow. Give me your phone, Soph.”

“Dani, I need to set my alarm, the staff van—”

Sophia tried to argue, voice dropping defensively as she crossed her arms over her bag.

“Mine’s already set. Give me the damn phone.”

Daniela’s tone wasn’t aggressive. But there was no room to negotiate.

It was an order.

Sophia held her dark gaze for three seconds, jaw tight, but eventually gave in. She was more tired than proud.

She reached into her hoodie pocket, pulled out her phone, and placed it into Daniela’s hand.

Her cold fingers brushed Daniela’s warm palm in the process.

Neither of them pulled away immediately.

Daniela took the phone but let her fingers skim lightly over Sophia’s hand for one extra second before turning and tossing it onto the dresser across the room, face down.

“I want you under those blankets in thirty minutes max.”

Daniela declared, already grabbing a clean towel and heading into the bathroom.

Before closing the door, she leaned her head back out.

“And if I come out and catch you standing in front of the mirror reviewing the dance break, I swear I’m tying you to the bed.”

Sophia let out a quiet breath through her nose, a tired smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

The click of the bathroom lock echoed through the room, followed almost immediately by the heavy sound of water hitting tile.

Alone in the room, Sophia let herself sink.

She sat on the edge of one of the beds, the mattress dipping beneath her weight.

Slowly she untied her sneakers, took off her socks, pulled off the heavy hoodie.

The sound of shower water hitting Daniela’s body in the next room became background noise filling Sophia’s head with dangerous images.

She shook her head and forced herself to focus on exhaustion.

Exactly twenty minutes later, the bathroom door opened and a cloud of warm steam spilled into the cold room, fogging the hallway mirror.

Daniela stepped out drying her curls with a towel.

She had changed into gray sweatpants dragging across the floor and an oversized white cotton T-shirt.

Water from her damp hair dripped onto her shoulders, soaking the fabric and making it translucent near her collarbone.

Her citrus soap filled every corner of the room.

“Your turn. Don’t take forever.”

Daniela murmured, tossing the wet towel onto a chair and flopping onto the bed closest to the window, pulling the heavy comforter into her lap.

Sophia grabbed the dark silk pajama pants and worn out T-shirt from the bottom of her bag, pressed the fabric to her chest, and walked silently into the bathroom.

The second the door shut and the metal lock clicked—

Sophia pressed her forehead against the cold wood and squeezed her eyes shut.

The room felt like a greenhouse.

The giant mirror covering half the wall was completely fogged over, and the humidity stuck instantly to the skin of her neck, leaving behind a thin sheen of sweat.

But what hit Sophia hardest wasn’t the heat.

It was the smell.

The citrus soap Daniela always used was soaked into the thick bathroom air.

It was fresh, but mixed with the warmth of the water and Daniela’s lingering scent—

it became almost suffocating.

Like Daniela was still in there. Standing behind her.

Sophia swallowed and dropped her clean clothes onto the towel basket.

She turned the shower handle all the way.

The roar of water crashing onto tile flooded the room and drowned out any sound from outside.

She undressed mechanically, pushing the sweat damp sweatpants and sports bra aside.

When she stepped under the water, the temperature shock against her cold skin pulled a low, dragged out sound from her throat.

She braced both hands against the tile wall and lowered her head, letting the heavy stream hit the back of her neck and run down her spine.

Her shoulder muscles ached.

Weeks of sleeping badly.

Rehearsing until the soles of her feet burned.

Absorbing the anxiety of the other five girls.

But while the burning water loosened the physical tension, Sophia’s mind collapsed.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the studio.

The feeling of Daniela’s large warm hands gripping her waist over the hoodie.

The weight of Daniela’s body brushing her back while correcting her posture.

And most of all—

that endless second when Daniela’s nose lowered to her neck.

The ghost of Daniela’s breath against the delicate skin behind her ear was still there.

Still tingling.

Still twisting her stomach.

If she hadn’t stepped forward—

what would’ve happened?

Sophia scrubbed her arms hard until her skin turned red, like she could scrape the adrenaline out of her veins.

The frustration with herself tasted bitter.

She was the leader.

She was Katseye’s moral and logistical compass.

She should’ve been mentally reviewing every step for Coachella, but all she could see was Daniela’s serious, protective expression saying:

“You look at me.”

Sophia’s heart slammed against her ribs.

Daniela teasing her. Making jokes in rehearsal.

Bumping into her on purpose—

Sophia knew how to handle that.

She rolled her eyes, snapped back, kept the mask on.

But Daniela taking control. Offering her shoulder like an anchor.

Locking the world outside and promising to be her point of safety on a stage in front of one hundred thousand people—

That was the real danger.

That Daniela disarmed Sophia in seconds.

Giving into that meant giving into three years of tension hanging by a thread.

And sharing a dark hotel room with this same woman on the night before the festival felt like a suicide mission for her self control.

Sophia stayed under the water until her fingertips wrinkled and her skin turned red from the heat.

On the other side of the wooden door, reality was running at a completely different temperature.

The room’s AC was still blasting at full power, turning the air into an invisible block of ice, but Daniela didn’t feel cold.

She sat on the edge of the bed closest to the window, facing the bathroom, elbows resting on her knees and her hands loosely clasped between her legs.

The only light came from the warm yellow lamp on the nightstand.

The heavy, constant sound of water hitting ceramic in the next room echoed through the empty space, white noise that wasn’t helping calm Daniela’s mind at all.

Daniela rubbed her thumb over her knuckles.

The feeling of Sophia’s waist still tingled in the palm of her hand.

She closed her eyes, tilting her head back slightly, and inhaled.

The citrus scent of the soap she had just used still lingered on her skin, but the memory from the studio was stronger.

The smell of Sophia’s neck.

The mix of her natural sweat after hours of rehearsal and that soft vanilla perfume Sophia always wears.

Daniela’s breathing got heavier, her chest rising beneath the white cotton tank.

Back in the studio, she had only wanted to correct Sophia’s posture.

Her original intention had been purely technical — to pull the leader’s focus away from stage panic and bring her back into her body.

But when Daniela found herself pressed against Sophia’s back, feeling the restrained trembling in her shoulders and the uneven breathing—

that protective instinct mixed with something far rawer.

She wanted to put her mouth on that neck.

Wanted to kiss the salty skin right behind Sophia’s ear.

Wanted to slide her hand from Sophia’s waist to her hip, and pull her backward until there wasn’t a single millimeter of space left between them in front of the mirror.

She had gotten so close.

Absurdly close to ending that months long game.

And now Sophia was there.

Three meters away.

Naked.

Under scalding water.

Separated from her by nothing but an unlocked door.

Daniela’s jaw locked.

The image of Sophia flushed from the steam, water running through dark straight hair and sticking to her back, hit Daniela’s brain like a punch.

Her right leg started bouncing, heel tapping against the thick hotel carpet.

An ironic mirror of Sophia’s nerves earlier.

Daniela uncrossed her hands and dragged a palm over her face.

She wasn’t going to survive this.

The promise to stay in the room and make sure Sophia rested was turning into physical torture.

She wanted to go in.

Wanted to open the door.

Wanted to let the cloud of steam swallow the cold air, pin Sophia against wet tile, and silence all that anxiety with her own mouth.

The urge hit suddenly.

Ripping through whatever reason she had left.

Daniela stood up.

The carpet completely swallowed the sound of her bare feet as she crossed the short distance to the bathroom.

She stopped in front of the varnished wood.

Heat leaked through the gap beneath the door, warming her toes.

The sound of the shower was deafening from this close.

She lifted her right hand.

Her fingers hovered two centimeters from the cold metal handle.

'Just turn it' she thought.

'Turn it, go in, and take control. She wants this just as much as you do.'

Daniela swallowed hard.

Her throat scraped.

Her chest was almost touching the door, her breathing leaving through slightly parted lips.

She stretched her fingers, and applied the slightest bit of pressure, ready to turn the lock and open it.

The metallic sound of the shower handle turning cut through the room.

The heavy rush of water stopped abruptly.

The silence that followed came so suddenly Daniela’s ears rang.

Residual drops hit the drain.

Then came the clear sound of glass sliding on metal— Sophia opening the shower door.

Reality hit Daniela like a bucket of ice.

Sophia was done.

The shower ended.

That window of opportunity evaporated with the sound of the water.

Daniela’s whole body froze.

The soft sound of a towel moving over wet skin came from the other side, too close.

Sophia was one step away.

If Daniela stayed there and Sophia opened the door, she’d catch her standing there like a predator.

And that would scare Sophia enough to rebuild every defensive wall in half a second.

Daniela yanked her hand away from the handle in a sharp reflex, like the metal had shocked her.

She took three quick, silent steps back across the carpet until her calf hit the edge of the bed.

She dropped onto the mattress.

Pulled the wrinkled comforter over her legs.

Leaned back against the pillows, forcing her uneven breathing back into something calm.

Five seconds later, the doorknob turned.

The wooden door opened, and a wall of thick steam rolled out of the bathroom, brightening the dark hallway.

Sophia stepped out.

She was wearing dark silk pants and an old gray group t-shirt, her dark damp hair roughly brushed back with her fingers.

Her face was flushed from the heat, her expression exhausted, but her shoulders seemed a little less locked up.

Daniela swallowed the rest of her frustration.

She sank a little deeper into the pillow and crossed her arms behind her head, fixing her dark eyes on the woman crossing the room as if she’d been lying there lazily in that exact position for the past twenty minutes.

Sophia walked to her open suitcase on the floor, ignoring Daniela’s presence for a second while she searched for leave-in conditioner and her hairbrush.

She let out a tired sigh and sat on the edge of her bed with her back to Daniela.

The sound of plastic bristles scraping through wet tangled hair filled the silence in the room.

Sophia pulled her head back with a hiss of pain when the brush got stuck halfway through, almost snapping strands.

“You’re gonna rip your own scalp off like that." Daniela commented, her voice rougher and lower than usual in the half light.

Sophia looked over her shoulder. The yellow lamp lit only half her face.

“The setting spray from rehearsal won’t come out. I swear it turned into cement.”

Daniela didn’t hesitate.

The perfect excuse dropped straight into her lap.

She uncrossed her arms and sat cross legged in the middle of her bed, patting the empty space on the comforter right in front of her.

“Come here. Bring the brush.”

Sophia stopped immediately. The brush froze halfway through her hair.

“It's okay, Dani. I got it.”

“Soph, you’ve been fighting your own hair for two minutes and we need to sleep. Come on.”

Daniela used that practical, slightly bossy tone that didn’t leave much room for debate — the exact voice she knew would disarm the leader.

Sophia hesitated.

Her self preservation instincts warned her that stepping back into Daniela’s personal space this soon after the near disaster in the studio was stupid.

But physical exhaustion and the ache in her arm from brushing won.

With a defeated sigh, she stood, crossed the tiny gap between the beds, and sat with her back to Daniela, right between her legs.

The mattress dipped.

The closeness was immediate.

Daniela reached out and took the brush from Sophia’s hand.

Their skin brushed during the exchange — warm and dry against damp.

Daniela started brushing.

Slow. Careful.

Starting from the ends before working upward.

With every pass of the brush, Daniela leaned forward by fractions.

The citrus soap she carried collided with the scent of neutral shampoo and vanilla still clinging to Sophia’s warm skin.

It was dizzying.

The cold air from the AC lost all its strength in that tiny space between them.

“Does it hurt?” Daniela murmured, her voice dropping almost to a whisper, vibrating directly against the exposed back of Sophia’s neck.

“No,” Sophia answered quietly.

She closed her eyes.

Her shoulders softened involuntarily under the care.

When her hair was finally knot free, falling smooth and heavy down her back, Daniela tossed the brush somewhere onto the bed.

The job was done.

The excuse was over.

Logically, she should’ve told Sophia to go back to her bed and turn off the lamp.

But she didn’t move back even an inch.

Instead, Daniela lifted both hands and rested her palms directly on Sophia’s shoulders.

Sophia inhaled sharply.

Her whole back tightened the instant Daniela's burning skin touched the thin cotton of her shirt.

“You’re stiff as a rock again,” Daniela said casually, completely ignoring the way Sophia startled.

She slid her hands lower, nudging aside the loose collar with her fingertips to reveal the clean damp skin at the base of Sophia’s neck.

Her thumbs began pressing into the muscles there.

Firm. Precise.

Sophia let out a low rough sound when Daniela found a particularly bad knot in her left shoulder.

Her head tipped back involuntarily.

Only a few centimeters. But enough.

Daniela felt her breathing change.

Her hands moved higher, slipping beneath damp hair, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin under Sophia’s neck.

Sophia’s pulse hammered against her fingertips.

Fast. Guilty.

Exactly as wild as her own.

“Better?” Daniela whispered.

Her voice dragged low in her throat.

Sophia swallowed.

The sound echoed clearly in the quiet room.

Her hands gripped her own knee over the silk pants until her knuckles turned pale.

“Much.”

The answer came out so strained it sounded less like a reply and more like a confession.

Daniela smiled faintly in the dark.

Her thumbs continued their slow path along the base of Sophia’s neck, kneading the skin with a firmness that unraveled the knots of tension — while creating a much bigger problem underneath.

Sophia’s breathing was hanging by a thread.

Every time Daniela pressed into another muscle, her body leaned back a little more.

Resistance melting.

The cold hotel room felt smaller and smaller until it was just that one square meter on top of the mattress.

Daniela’s hands slid from her neck to her shoulders.

Long fingers tracing the line over the cotton shirt.

This had stopped being a massage minutes ago.

Now it was slow.

Possessive.

Dangerously deliberate.

Sophia’s head tilted right, exposing the entire left side of her neck.

A crack in the armor she wore twenty four hours a day.

Daniela didn’t think. She just followed gravity.

She lowered her face.

Loose curls brushed lightly against Sophia’s shoulder.

Her nose traced an invisible line through the air from Sophia’s ear down toward the exposed tendon in her neck.

Warm breath touched damp skin.

One millimeter.

Just the width of a sheet of paper before parted lips touched skin and closed a cycle three years in the making.

Daniela leaned forward, ready to erase the distance.

The violent shiver that tore through Sophia’s spine snapped everything.

Reality hit her like a truck.

Daniela’s actual closeness.

The weight of what this was.

The show.

The other members two doors away.

The panic of ruining everything sliced through desire instantly.

Sophia inhaled sharply and threw herself forward, breaking the contact with an awkward jolt that made the mattress creak loudly.

“That’s great.”

Her voice came out strangled.

She didn’t turn around.

She stood abruptly, legs unsteady.

“Thanks, Dani. Fixed everything.”

Daniela stayed sitting exactly where she was.

Her hands still hovered uselessly in empty air.

Her jaw tightened so hard something clicked.

She lowered her head and exhaled through her nose.

Eyes fixed on the wrinkled comforter where Sophia had been sitting five seconds earlier.

“Soph…”

Daniela’s voice came out low, frustrated.

“Seriously, I need to sleep. Missy’s gonna kill us tomorrow if we’re not in the lobby on time.”

Sophia rushed through the words.

She crossed the tiny space between beds, threw her blanket back, climbed under it, and turned her back toward Daniela.

Pulling the comforter all the way up to her neck.

Daniela stared at the lump of blankets for three endless seconds.

The taste of rejection was bitter. But the fear she’d caught in Sophia’s eyes made her back off.

She wasn’t going to push.

Without saying anything else, Daniela reached toward the nightstand and switched off the lamp.

The room dropped into complete darkness.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Daniela slid under her own comforter and lay flat on her back, arms folded over her stomach, staring at the ceiling.

Her pulse took several minutes to settle.

Two steps away, Sophia was doing worse.

The warmth of Daniela’s hands still tingled across her shoulders.

The memory of warm breath on her neck fought violently against the mental map of stage blocking.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Tried to force her brain offline.

But adrenaline had left her hyperaware.

Pulling away hadn’t erased the desire — It had just left the nerves with nowhere to go.

Five minutes passed.

Ten.

Sophia’s breathing stayed shallow.

The blanket kept scraping across the mattress every time she changed position.

Back.

Wall.

Stomach.

The silence made everything louder.

Then the worst sign started.

Her right leg began shaking under the blanket.

Fast. Nervous.

Her heel tapping lightly against the mattress.

Pure physical anxiety taking over again.

Stage fear and panic over what almost happened turning into one impossible knot.

Daniela heard the rhythm.

Heard Sophia’s breathing catch.

She opened her eyes in the dark.

The frustration vanished.

Replaced immediately by that automatic protective instinct she always had around her.

Sophia was short circuiting alone in the bed next to her.

Daniela wasn’t gonna stay there listening.

The sound of Daniela throwing her comforter back cut through the room.

Sophia stopped shaking instantly.

Her entire body froze under the blankets at the soft thud of bare feet against carpet.

She held her breath.

Her heart climbed into her throat.

Then the right side of the mattress dipped.

The white comforter lifted.

Cold air rushed in for one second before Daniela slid underneath.

The bed wasn’t huge.

Daniela’s warmth hit immediately.

She settled onto her side behind Sophia, invading completely the little trench Sophia had built for herself.

“Move over,” Daniela whispered.

Her voice calm. Soft.

Not a trace of earlier teasing.

She rested her hand lightly on Sophia’s waist over the silk pants and gently pulled her just enough to make space.

Then she didn’t move again. Didn’t press closer. Didn’t reach for her neck.

She just stayed near enough for her breathing to land steady and rhythmic against Sophia’s shoulders.

The anchor Daniela had offered back in the studio had now laid down beside her in the dark.

The silence in the room turned thick enough to cut.

The warmth from Daniela’s body soaked through cotton and silk within seconds.

Her hand stayed exactly where it landed, resting loosely at Sophia’s waist.

Sophia squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart was beating so fast and so hard she was absolutely certain Daniela could feel the vibration through the mattress.

She didn’t move a millimeter. She stayed lying on her side, her back turned to Daniela, her breathing caught at the top of her throat.

A full minute passed. The only thing that could be heard was the cold breath of the air conditioner.

“What are you doing?” Sophia whispered. Her voice came out tiny, strained and uneven.

“Keeping my promise.” Daniela’s answer came at the same low volume, but loaded with that dragged out raspiness.

Her warm breath hit the fabric of Sophia’s shirt, right between her shoulder blades.

“You were shaking your leg so hard the floor was probably vibrating down in the hotel lobby.”

“I was gonna stop.” Sophia swallowed hard.

The scrape of her dry throat hurt.

“I was just… thinking about the runway marks. The chorus.”

Daniela’s chest rose in a slow sigh that brushed lightly against Sophia’s back.

Her hand resting at Sophia's waist moved an inch, her long fingers brushing over the silk fabric of her pants almost imperceptibly.

“Lie. Your head’s going a thousand miles an hour, Soph, but it’s not about counting the music. I can feel you stiff as a statue from here. Your shoulder’s so tense it feels like stone.”

Sophia curled her hands into fists under the blanket, her nails digging into her palms.

The closeness was unbearable.

Having Daniela in the same space, feeling every micro expression in her body, was a direct violation of every defense she’d built.

“And you think invading my bed in the middle of the night is gonna fix that?” Sophia tried to sound firm, but her voice shook halfway through the words.

She pulled the blanket up a little higher.

“You’re doing the exact opposite, Daniela.”

Daniela stopped moving her hand immediately.

Silence returned for three measured beats of Sophia’s heart.

“The exact opposite?”

“Yeah.”

Sophia let the air out all at once, frustration mixing with panic and overpowering exhaustion.

“You’re not helping me relax. You’re just making me way more nervous.”

Daniela’s hand slid from Sophia’s waist to her hip, applying light pressure that anchored Sophia to the mattress.

“More nervous? Why?”

“Because… because we have to wake up in a few hours. Because tomorrow is fucking Coachella. Because Megan is sleeping three meters away and her room shares a wall with our bed.”

“The soundproofing in this hotel is perfect and Megan sleeps like a rock. Forget Megan. Forget tomorrow’s show.”

Daniela’s voice sounded closer. She had slid forward a fraction of an inch on the mattress.

Her knee brushed the back of Sophia’s thigh.

“Answer my question, Sophia. Why does me lying next to you make you nervous?”

“You know why.” Sophia whispered, her voice trembling.

“No, I don’t. Tell me.” Daniela shot back immediately.

There was no retreat in her posture.

It was a complete siege in the middle of the bed.

Sophia couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to see Daniela’s face to try and find some bluff, some opening.

In a sudden movement, she rolled under the heavy comforter, turning onto her back and then onto her left side until she was facing Daniela.

In the dark, everything was blurred.

Sophia’s pupils were blown wide trying to catch any light, but all she could focus on was the outline of Daniela’s face and the faint shine in her dark eyes staring back at her with brutal intensity.

There was less than a hand’s width between their noses. The same long pillow sank beneath the weight of both their heads.

“What do you want me to say, Dani? That you know exactly the effect you have on me? That you know when you touch me in that studio in front of everyone, I almost forget my own fucking name?”

Daniela didn’t blink.

Her expression didn’t change, but her chest rose in a sharp breath she couldn’t hide.

That confession thrown out there, without filters, was everything she’d been trying to pull out of her for months.

“If I know, then why did you run? Today. In front of the mirror. Why did you pull away when I got close?”

Sophia felt her throat close. The memory of Daniela’s breath against her neck made her skin prickle all over again.

She swallowed.

“Because if I’d stayed standing in front of that mirror for one more second..."

Sophia murmured, her voice coming out thin, controlled, but dense, carrying a weight she couldn’t disguise anymore.

“I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.”

Daniela’s chest rose slowly with a silent pull of air.

Her hand resting loosely at Sophia’s waist instinctively tightened around the silk fabric of her pants.

It was a tiny movement, but Sophia felt the warm pressure of Daniela’s fingers against her hip.

“Stop yourself from doing what?”

Daniela answered in the same low tone, her rough voice dragging the words through the dark.

Sophia closed her eyes for a fraction of a second.

The closeness felt unreal.

The smell of citrus soap mixed with the natural warmth of Daniela’s skin was numbing the logical part of her mind she fought so hard to keep functioning.

“You know what.”

Sophia opened her eyes again, holding Daniela's gaze.

“You knew exactly what you were doing when you touched me like that in the studio.”

A tiny smile, almost invisible, curved the corner of Daniela’s mouth.

Under the blanket, her right leg moved forward a fraction of an inch, her bare knee lightly brushing the smooth fabric covering Sophia’s thigh.

“I was just fixing your alignment for the runway turn.”

“Lie.” Sophia shot back, her whisper carrying a little more air now.

She didn’t move away from the touch at her knee. If anything, her body seemed heavier against the mattress, giving in by millimeters toward Daniela’s warmth.

“You touched me and the last thing I could think about was counting the music. And you knew that. You felt it.”

Daniela’s hand slipped from Sophia’s waist, moving upward slowly.

Her thumb traced the side seam of Sophia's cotton shirt, a ghost touch that made the leader's breath lock in her chest.

“I felt you shaking,” Daniela confessed.

Her voice lowered into an even deeper register.

“I felt your shoulder lock up when I got close. I felt your pulse pounding against your neck.”

Sophia bit the inside of her cheek.

Hearing Daniela narrate the effect she had on her, was a hundred times worse than tomorrow’s stage anxiety.

“You make me lose control, Dani.” The confession came out raw, unfiltered.

Sophia’s leader mask cracked.

“I spend all day holding everything together, trying not to lose it over the stage, the sound, keeping the girls safe. I need control. And when you do these things… when you corner me like this… the control disappears.”

Daniela’s hand finished moving up along the seam of the shirt and stopped right at Sophia’s ribs, her warm palm resting firmly against the bone, steadying the leader’s body against the mattress.

“That’s the point,” Daniela whispered, her breath warm against Sophia’s chin.

“You’re exhausted, Soph. You’re burning yourself out from the inside with all this pressure. Someone has to take the control out of your hands, even if it’s just for one night.”

“And you think leaving me like this is helping me relax? My stomach’s in knots, Daniela. And it’s not because of Coachella.”

Daniela’s eyes dropped to Sophia’s mouth for a second, even in the dark.

The honesty in Sophia's voice stripped away whatever was left of the game Daniela had been playing. She wanted to anchor Sophia, even if the method was chaos.

Daniela moved the arm resting on the pillow, closing the last physical distance left between them on the mattress.

She didn’t press their bodies together, but she got close enough that Sophia’s chest brushed her shirt with every deeper breath.

“I told you outside,” Daniela said, her voice very close now, vibrating almost against Sophia’s lips. “I told you that you needed something physical to shut your head up.”

“And you volunteered for the position?” Sophia asked, her voice trembling but without a trace of retreat.

Her hands, which had been clutching her own pants, were now loose in the space between them, her fingertips brushing the hem of Daniela’s black shirt.

“I’ve been applying for that position for about three years.”

The answer came without hesitation, lethal and honest.

Daniela didn’t blink.

Her face tilted down a fraction of a centimeter.

Her nose finally brushed lightly against Sophia’s.

A minimal, dry contact that sent an electric shock straight down to Sophia's spine.

“I was just waiting for you to stop running.”

Sophia’s breathing failed miserably.

A shiver took over the back of her neck and ran all the way down to the base of her spine.

Daniela slid her hand up from Sophia’s ribs, her fingertips finding the loose collar of the cotton shirt.

She didn’t hesitate this time.

Her warm hand found the bare skin of Sophia's neck, her thumb resting exactly where her pulse was pounding out of control.

The friction of their noses touching.

The weight of Daniela’s hand at her neck.

The crushing silence of the hotel room.

Sophia closed her eyes, and before Daniela could close the last remaining millimeter between them, Sophia threw her head forward and sealed her mouth against hers.

The surprise of having the leader close the distance and make the first move caught in Daniela's throat, but the shock didn’t last.

Instinct took over in the very next second.

Daniela’s hand, resting at the nape of Sophia’s neck, tightened in her still damp hair and pulled the filipina closer, crushing whatever millimeters of space still existed between their faces.

There was no desperation. No teeth clashing, no rush to tear clothes off, no teenage urgency.

Their first kiss was dense, heavy, dragged forward by three entire years of swallowed glances, half finished touches, and sleepless nights.

Daniela’s lips were firm and warm.

Sophia let out a trembling breath, almost a weak sound through her nose, when Daniela parted her mouth slowly, asking for access.

Sophia gave in instantly.

Daniela’s tongue found hers slowly. The damp sound of the kiss echoed in the dark, sounding far too loud in the silence of the hotel, but Sophia’s brain had finally shut off.

The anxiety about the Sahara tent disappeared. The counts disappeared.

All that remained was the weight of Daniela’s breathing and the absurd gravity pulling them together.

Sophia lifted her hand off her own thigh and brought trembling fingers up to Daniela’s shoulder. She grabbed the thin fabric of the black shirt, pulling Daniela on top of her.

Daniela’s body responded instantly, sliding under the heavy comforter until her knee ended up pressed between Sophia’s legs, the rough friction of her sweatpants against Sophia's silk pants creating immediate heat.

For Daniela, the relief of finally feeling Sophia’s mouth was overwhelming.

It was so much better than what she had built up in her own head during those late nights in the back of tour vans.

It was real.

The way Sophia melted into the mattress, the way her mouth followed Daniela’s rhythm, the way her body gave without any resistance.

Daniela’s other hand dropped from Sophia’s jaw, traced the line of her shoulder, and slid straight to the hem of the worn shirt the leader was wearing.

Long fingers caught the cotton and lifted it without asking.

The contrast of Daniela’s firm, warm fingers suddenly touching the bare, smooth, burning skin of Sophia’s stomach tore a broken gasp out of her. The sound was swallowed directly into Daniela’s mouth.

Daniela's hand moved upward slowly, gliding along the side of Sophia’s ribs. Every centimeter of skin Daniela touched felt like it was burning.

She felt Sophia's heart hammering against her bones in a frantic, almost painful rhythm.

Daniela didn’t squeeze, didn’t force the movement toward her breasts. She simply left her palm flat just beneath Sophia’s bust, her thumb drawing slow, maddening circles on the thin skin there, while her other hand kept the back of her neck pinned against the pillow, deepening the kiss with possessiveness.

Sophia arched her back unconsciously, pushing her body into Daniela’s hand beneath the shirt, asking for more. The freefall was finally happening, and the relief and desire hit so hard her vision felt heavy in the dark.

When Daniela’s hand moved a fraction of an inch higher, brushing the edge of where the shirt still covered her, Sophia’s brain jolted like an electric shock.

Reality hit with the force of a concrete block.

The darkness of the room.

The wall separating them from Megan’s bed.

The alarm set on the phone.

Coachella in less than forty-eight hours.

Sophia broke the kiss with a sudden jerk.

She pulled her face back, turning her neck away. Their breathing was completely ruined.

Sophia’s chest rose and fell violently, dragging in the cold air from the AC in a desperate attempt to fill her lungs while her lips throbbed.

“Dani…” Sophia gasped.

Her voice came out broken, rough, cut apart. She didn’t remove her hand from Daniela’s shoulder, but her fingers loosened their grip.

Daniela stopped in the exact same millisecond. She froze.

Her hand, warm against Sophia’s ribs beneath the shirt, stayed completely still.

She pulled in a hard breath through her nose, dark eyes trying to focus on Sophia’s profile in the dim room. Daniela’s expression was a mix of desire and alertness.

“What is it?” Daniela whispered back, her voice almost unrecognizable from how rough it sounded. She lifted her head just a little, her face hovering over Sophia’s. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Sophia swallowed hard.

The urge to turn her face and pull Daniela back by the neck felt like physical torture tearing through her stomach. She shook her head against the pillow, wide bright eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“No, you didn’t hurt me. But we… Dani, we can’t.”

Daniela blinked slowly. Her thumb, beneath the shirt, stopped moving completely against Sophia’s skin.

“We can’t?” Daniela repeated, her tone dropping. There was no anger there, but frustration and confusion settled into the room.

“Not tonight,” Sophia corrected, her voice thick and damp, almost on the edge of tears from the violent crash after the adrenaline.

Sophia let go of Daniela’s shoulder, slid her trembling hand down to her own stomach, and wrapped her fingers around Daniela's wrist over the shirt.

The grip wasn’t to push her hand away. It was only to keep it there.

“Dani, look at me,” Sophia whispered, forcing herself to turn her face back and meet Daniela's eyes in the dark.

The vulnerability in Sophia’s eyes was tangible.

“If we keep going tonight… if we go all the way tonight… I won’t have my head tomorrow. I won’t be able to focus on a single note on that stage knowing what we just did in this bed. My brain will melt completely and I can’t afford to melt tonight. I can’t.”

The confession came out raw.

Sophia was scared of her own lack of control, terrified by the intensity of what she had just felt. She wanted this. Her entire body pulled and ached for Daniela to take that shirt off, but the weight of tomorrow was crushing her.

Daniela's most primal instinct was to roll over her, and kiss that mouth until Sophia forgot her own name and prove that Coachella meant nothing compared to what they had here.

But Daniela wasn’t stupid.

She knew the woman lying beneath her.

If she pushed now, in the heat of the moment, Sophia would give in.

But the guilt and mental crash the next day would destroy the leader exactly when she needed to be whole.

And Daniela had promised to be her lighthouse in the dark on that stage.

She wasn’t going to be the person who made her drown before they even stepped onto it.

Daniela let the air out slowly through her lips, a heavy sigh brushing Sophia’s chin.

She closed her eyes for a full second, recalibrating her own body.

“Okay.”

The answer came low, in that same drawn out tone she always had, but controlled.

Daniela’s hand slid away slowly, dragging warm fingertips across the skin of Sophia’s stomach until it disappeared completely from beneath the cotton shirt.

The loss of direct contact hit Sophia like a bucket of cold water, leaving behind an immediate, painful emptiness.

But Daniela didn’t retreat to her own side of the bed.

She didn’t give the space back.

Instead, she slid her arm over Sophia’s waist, wrapping around her from the side, and sank her face into the same pillow, pressing her forehead against Sophia's jaw.

Daniela’s whole body stayed aligned with Sophia’s, their warmth sharing the same air beneath the heavy comforter.

“Not tonight,” Daniela whispered against Sophia’s neck, her warm breath still carrying the residue of the desire she was swallowing down. “But we’re not going back to square one tomorrow, Sophia. If you think I’m going to forget what just happened here, you’re very wrong.”

Sophia let the air leave her nose in a thin stream, her tense shoulders finally melting into the mattress.

The panic receded.

She turned her face by millimeters, resting her cheek against Daniela’s curly hair, and settled her own hand over Daniela's arm wrapped around her waist.

“I don’t want you to forget,” Sophia murmured back, her eyes growing heavy with exhaustion and relief for the first time that night.

Sophia’s confession hung in the cold air of the room, heavier than any promise.

Daniela didn’t answer right away.

She simply closed her eyes, her face still buried in the pillow and pressed against the curve of sophia's jaw.

The relief of hearing that was palpable, disarming the last trace of tension still wound tight in the latina’s body.

Daniela’s thumb, resting on Sophia’s waist over the silk pants, moved in one slow, continuous motion.

A simple caress, stripped of the urgency from minutes earlier, serving only to anchor Sophia to the mattress.

The contrast between the cold room and the suffocating warmth trapped beneath the thick comforter was the only physical reminder of the edge they had just stepped away from.

“Good,” Daniela whispered, her voice grazing the skin of Sophia’s neck.

Her warm breath hit the cartilage of the leader’s ear, drawing a faint shiver Sophia didn’t have the strength to hide.

“Because I’m holding you to that. Don’t think you’re getting rid of me easily after Coachella.”

Sophia let out a weak breath through her nose, a sound that broke halfway through and almost turned into an exhausted laugh.

After three sleepless nights, her body finally started giving in to its own weight.

The sharp adrenaline of the kiss — the invasion of the warm hand against her stomach, the taste of shared breathing, the explosion of all that accumulated tension —was draining quickly from her veins, leaving behind only a heavy, lethargic haze.

Her head throbbed, her brain begging to shut down.

Daniela noticed the shift almost instantly.

She felt the muscles in Sophia’s back lose that stone-like rigidity against her chest, felt her breathing lengthen and lose the short jolts of nervousness.

Daniela tightened her hold, pulling Sophia’s body toward her by millimeters, settling her own hips securely against her. Their bodies fit together perfectly.

“If you want…” Daniela started, her tone dropping into something practical, but carrying restrained care underneath.

Her breathing hit the exposed nape of Sophia’s neck in a steady, rhythmic pattern.

“Tomorrow morning, before we shove the girls into that bus and head into the desert, we’ll go to studio two.”

Sophia blinked slowly in the dark, her mind already clouded by sleep weighing on her eyelids.

“To rehearse?” Sophia’s voice came out sluggish, tangled in the back of her throat.

“Yeah.” Daniela’s nose brushed lightly against her hair. “We’ll go over the runway blocking again. Run the counts. Clean up the turn in the chorus. As many times as you need.”

Sophia stayed quiet.

Her hand, still resting over Daniela’s arm around her waist, lightly tightened.

“No Grant yelling into the mic. No girls collapsing next to you needing attention. Just us. On your time. Until your brain stops freaking out over the size of that stage and you feel like you can do the route with your eyes closed.”

The offer hit Sophia with silent, devastating force.

Daniela was materializing the promise she’d made hours earlier.

The safety net was being built right there in the dark, block by block, stitching the her anxiety back together in the middle of the night.

Daniela was stepping forward so Sophia’s mind wouldn’t sink into the spiral of its own perfectionism.

The knot in the leader’s stomach—the one that had followed her like a physical stone for weeks—finally came undone completely.

Only exhaustion remained.

Sophia turned her face just enough to the right.

The slow movement made her nose brush against Daniela’s cheek in the dark.

Without opening her eyes, she pressed her lips— still faintly sensitive from the kiss — against the warm skin of Daniela’s temple.

A chaste touch, sealing the truce and trust of that night.

“Okay. Just us,” Sophia murmured back against the Daniela's skin, her voice heavy and finally defeated by exhaustion.

She settled her head back into the pillow, giving the weight of her body completely over to the physical barrier of Daniela’s arms around her, and for the first time in days, Sophia fell asleep without dreams before she even had the chance to worry about tomorrow.

The weight of Sophia’s body changed.

The stone hard tension in her muscles —the one that had followed her for weeks— simply disappeared.

What remained was dead weight and complete relaxation, sinking against Daniela’s arm and chest.

Sophia's breathing lost its nervous stumbles and settled into a long, slow, deep rhythm, her chest rising and falling evenly.

She was out.

The collapse of mental exhaustion won in record time the second the anxiety let go.

Daniela didn’t move.

She stayed in the same position, arm firm around Sophia’s waist, face tucked into the space between the leader’s cheek and dark hair.

In the absolute darkness of the room, Daniela's eyes stayed open, staring into the blank wall ahead.

Her heart was still beating in a dense, accelerated rhythm, refusing to slow down.

Daniela’s lips still tingled. The physical memory of the kiss felt etched into her skin.

Sophia’s taste still lingered on her tongue — a mix of fresh toothpaste, the sweet vanilla scent drifting from her neck, and the salty trace of a frustrated tear from minutes earlier.

Daniela drew in a slow breath through her nose, filling her lungs carefully so she wouldn’t disturb the rhythm of her breathing and wake Sophia.

A wide smile pulled at the corners of Daniela’s mouth in the dim room.

A real smile. Without a trace of cynicism or teasing.

Three years.

Her brain ran the count automatically.

Three years measuring every step in front of cameras.

Three years calculating every hug at award shows so it wouldn’t seem too long.

Years disguising her gaze through the reflection in studio mirrors in Los Angeles, swallowing hard every time Sophia adjusted her posture and carried that untouchable leader presence.

Years listening to Lara and Megan joke that they looked like a couple, and having to laugh along as if it were harmless instead of the deepest thing she wanted.

And in one millisecond, in the dark of that generic hotel room, Sophia had thrown the whole script out the window.

The memory of that sharp pull at the back of her neck made Daniela’s stomach twist again.

The woman who controlled every variable in her life, who organized spreadsheets and carried Katseye’s sanity on her back, had lost control and thrown herself at her.

Sophia had crossed the final millimeter.

Daniela’s whole body responded just remembering the urgency of that impact.

The way Sophia had given in so easily and so desperately. The texture of the leader's bare skin burning beneath her palm.

Daniela curled her free hand into a fist against the pillow, nails pressing into her palm.

If Sophia’s rational side hadn’t cried for help at the last second, Daniela knew exactly how that night would’ve ended.

The bed would’ve been a mess.

The air would’ve been impossible to breathe.

Sleep definitely wouldn’t have been part of the equation.

"I won’t be able to focus on a single note tomorrow knowing what we just did."

The sentence echoed in Daniela's head.

She tightened her hold around Sophia’s waist subtly, adjusting her thumb against the seam of the silk pants.

It wasn’t just attraction. It wasn’t some slip because of tour stress.

Sophia had been terrified because she knew that if they crossed that line there, there would be no going back.

The feeling was mirrored, reciprocal.

The cliff was the same for both of them.

Things wouldn’t feel the same.

Their exchanged looks during interviews would carry the weight of that kiss now.

The tension wouldn’t be about wondering what the other felt anymore.

It would be about knowing exactly what would happen once the stage dust settled and the hotel room door closed again.

And that felt like an absolute victory.

Daniela had the map now, and she was going to make sure Sophia felt like the safest woman in California the next day.

The silence of the hotel eventually collected its debt.

The adrenaline finally started leaving Daniela’s veins, leaving behind a rough trail of physical exhaustion.

She was exhausted.

Hours of rehearsal.

The silent fight in the mirror room.

The panic in the elevator.

The conversation in the dark.

Everything crashed into her muscles all at once.

Daniela pulled the comforter higher with her free hand, covering Sophia's exposed shoulder.

She buried her face fully into the leader's dark hair, closed her eyes, and absorbed the human warmth coming off her.

Her breathing slowly lost its alert rhythm and began mirroring Sophia’s heavy, sleepy pace.

The dark room stopped feeling like a pressure cooker ready to explode and became only a heavy, safe cocoon.

For the first time since rehearsal had started that morning, Daniela emptied her mind.

No blocking. No choreography. No thoughts of tomorrow.

With Sophia finally relaxed and resting in her arms, sleep won. And Daniela drifted off.

The monotonous hum of the air conditioner was the first thing Daniela’s brain registered when she started surfacing from deep sleep.

The second thing was the weight.

There was a solid, warm, rhythmic pressure anchored against the left side of her chest.

Daniela opened her eyes slowly.

The room was no longer drowned in the absolute darkness of night.

A thin strip of sunlight leaked through the edge of the blackout curtain, cutting across the carpet and lighting the dust suspended in the cold air.

She blinked a few times, her vision focusing on dark hair spread right beneath her chin.

Sophia was still exactly where she’d fallen asleep hours earlier.

Her body was turned on its side, her face partially buried in the pillow and her forehead resting against Daniela’s shoulder.

Daniela’s left arm was completely numb, tingling under Sophia's weight, but she didn’t move a single muscle to ease the discomfort.

In fact, she found herself hoping circulation would take longer to come back just so she wouldn’t risk waking her.

Daniela tilted her neck down by a fraction, watching the woman in her arms.

The untouchable, rigid posture of KATSEYE’s leader didn’t exist there.

Sophia’s breathing was deep and slow, her lips slightly parted as she let warm air spill directly onto Daniela’s collarbone. Her expression was smooth. Her jaw wasn’t locked with anxiety over the show. Her right leg wasn’t bouncing against the mattress. She looked like just Sophia. Exhausted, vulnerable, and fitting perfectly against Daniela’s body.

A warm knot formed in Daniela’s throat.

The memory of Sophia’s mouth crashing against hers hours earlier hit Daniela’s brain in a sudden flash, jolting the rest of her body awake with a rush of adrenaline.

Her stomach lurched. It had been real. Not another late night fantasy in the back of the tour vans, not another game of stolen glances through the studio mirror. They had kissed. Sophia had pulled her in by the back of her neck.

The smell of clean sheets and the faint sweet trace of vanilla coming off the warm skin of Sophia’s neck filled the air.

Daniela’s instinct was immediate and primitive. The physical urge that tore through her chest was to turn over, roll on top of Sophia, and wake her exactly where they had left off.

She wanted to bury her nose against that neck, breathe her in, feel the startled reaction of Sophia’s body beneath hers, and kiss her until both of them lost their breath again.

Daniela’s entire body tightened, muscles drawing tense beneath the cotton tank top.

Her right hand, resting on Sophia’s hip, twitched with the urge to slip back under the hem of the gray shirt.

But she locked her jaw.

And didn’t move.

"Easy" Daniela told herself, swallowing hard, the word sounding louder inside her own head than it should have.

She closed her eyes for two seconds, forcing her pulse back into something normal.

No matter how absurdly in love she’d been with that woman for three years, reality was far more fragile than morning desire.

They had kissed once. One single explosion of stress and longing that had ended with Sophia terrified of what tomorrow would mean.

Waking Sophia by covering her neck in kisses, crossing lines as if they were girlfriends, would be the fastest way to trigger the leader’s defense mode.

If Daniela pushed that intimacy now, with sunlight already spilling into the day of Coachella technical rehearsal, Sophia’s practical brain would short circuit.

She’d pull away, rebuild the professional barrier, and shut herself down to focus on the festival.

And Daniela refused to let Sophia disappear back into her shell.

She exhaled slowly through her nose.

Patience had never been Daniela Avanzini’s strength, but for Sophia Laforteza, she knew how to wait. She had already waited over a thousand days; waiting a few more hours wasn’t going to kill her.

Instead of giving in to the impulse, Daniela settled for simply existing there.

She loosened her right hand a little where it rested on Sophia’s hip and slowly slid her fingers up along the side of her shirt, just enough to trace the curve of her back through the fabric.

A soft touch.

A quiet good morning that asked for nothing in return.

The subtle movement was enough to pull Sophia out of the last layers of sleep.

She let out a low, sleepy sound from the back of her throat — soft and unguarded — and Daniela’s heart slammed straight into her ribs.

Sophia frowned slightly, her long lashes trembling before slowly opening.

The first thing she saw was the fabric of Daniela’s white tank top and the sun warmed skin of her shoulder.

The disorientation lasted exactly two seconds. Sophia’s body tensed almost imperceptibly.

She held her breath, her gaze moving slowly up Daniela’s neck, tracing the line of her jaw until it found her dark eyes.

Daniela was already looking at her.

Daniela's face was relaxed, her curls completely wrecked against the pillow, but her gaze was focused and dangerously warm in the half light of the room.

A small, lazy smile full of unspoken meaning tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“Morning." Daniela whispered, her voice in the lowest, roughest register Sophia had ever heard from her, scraping softly through the cold air.

Sophia swallowed.

Her heart took off instantly, anxiety about how to deal with the morning after colliding headfirst with Daniela’s solid presence around her. She was still under her arm. The touch was still there.

No distance. No retreat.

“Morning." Sophia answered in a breath, her voice thick with sleep, blinking slowly as she tried to organize her thoughts in the middle of the thermal shock that was waking up pressed against Daniela Avanzini.

The haze of sleep evaporated at the same speed the memory of last night dropped over her.

It hadn’t been a dream.

The weight of Daniela’s arm around her waist was real.

The citrus smell sunk into the pillow was real.

And the phantom ache in her lips — the vivid memory of Daniela's mouth pressed against hers with almost desperate urgency — was terrifyingly real.

The wall of control she had spent three years building and that had collapsed in the dark of that room was suddenly screaming to be rebuilt.

Brick by brick.

Technical rehearsal in the desert. Soundcheck. The other four girls asleep in the room next door.

Reality hit like a door slamming straight into her face.

The panic was immediate.

Sophia broke eye contact.

She planted her right palm flat against the mattress, exactly between her body and Daniela’s chest, and shoved herself backward in one clumsy, abrupt movement.

The quick motion dragged the silk of her pants across the white sheets with a rough sound.

Daniela’s arm slipped off her waist and fell uselessly into the empty space. The cocoon of dense warmth they’d shared beneath the blanket broke instantly, and cold air flooded in, whipping across the back of Sophia’s neck and her bare arms.

Sophia sat at the edge of the bed with her back to Daniela, swinging her legs over the side.

Her bare feet hit the cold carpet.

“What time is it?” she asked.

Her voice came out high and rushed, trampling over the silence of the room while her trembling hands moved into her hair, pushing the dark strands back almost aggressively.

She didn’t look behind her. Her chest rose and fell fast beneath the worn shirt.

“My alarm… I left my phone on the dresser, it should go off soon. We have to get up…”

Daniela didn’t move immediately.

She stayed lying on her side, cheek pressed into the pillow, watching the logistical collapse of the woman sitting a few inches away.

The cold room raised goosebumps along her exposed arm, but she ignored it.

She had expected this.

She knew Sophia’s courage was a nocturnal animal.

In daylight, responsibility for KATSEYE would always speak louder at first.

With carefully measured calm, unwilling to inflame the anxiety radiating from the leader’s back, Daniela propped herself up on one elbow and slowly lifted her torso. The bed springs creaked softly.

“Soph.” Daniela called.

Her voice came out at its normal volume — low, roughened by sleep — but without a trace of the nervousness consuming the other woman.

Sophia stopped fussing with her hair, but her back remained rigid. Her shoulders looked like they had turned to stone all over again.

“We still have to finish packing. The staff will be here soon. We can’t fall behind schedule..." Sophia continued mumbling, ignoring the call.

Her right leg had already started bouncing again, a nervous tic against the side of the bed.

She rubbed her face with both hands.

The panic of how she was supposed to look the rest of the group in the eye was eating away at her stomach.

What did I do?

The thought echoed.

How am I supposed to look at Lara and Megan today and pretend Daniela didn’t have her hand under my shirt last night?

“Sophia.”

Daniela repeated it, this time a little more firmly.

She shifted closer to the edge of the mattress, sitting down directly behind Sophia.

She didn’t invade her space again. She didn’t reach for her tense shoulders or try to box her in.

Daniela simply let her knee brush lightly against the side of Sophia’s thigh.

A small, harmless contact.

Just enough to let her know she was still there.

Sophia finally turned her head slightly.

Her dark eyes were wide and exhausted, the fear of having ruined the group’s perfect dynamic written across her face so clearly that it made something tighten painfully in Daniela’s chest.

“Your alarm hasn’t even gone off yet." Daniela said, pointing with her chin toward the phone lying face down on top of the dresser.

She folded her arms loosely beneath her chest, her expression calm and untroubled.

“It’s early. Nobody from the label’s team is awake at this hour. The girls aren’t awake either.”

“Dani, I…” Sophia’s voice failed miserably.

Her eyes dropped to Daniela’s mouth by pure reflex, remembered the friction of it, and immediately darted back up to her eyes as if the sight burned.

“We fly out today.”

“I know.”

“The stage… the blocking.”

“I know, Soph.”

Daniela exhaled slowly through her nose.

She didn’t try to minimize the weight of the festival.

She only leaned forward slightly, closing a little of the distance while keeping her hands to herself.

“Breathe. It’s okay. We didn’t ruin anything.”

“It feels like we did" Sophia murmured, her voice barely audible.

She gripped the edge of the mattress, her knuckles turning white.

“How am I supposed to sit through breakfast with Manon and pretend I’m functioning normally? I’m freaking out, Daniela.”

The corner of Daniela’s mouth pulled into a crooked smile—part bitter, part understanding.

Sophia’s raw honesty was the only thing keeping the situation under control.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re functioning normally. You’re terrified of the Sahara Tent. You’ve got the best excuse in the world for acting weird today. They already know you’re nervous about the performance.”

Daniela spoke with the steady logic that always worked fastest on Sophia’s logistical brain.

“Let me handle the group dynamic. You don’t have to perform for us this morning.”

Sophia blinked.

Her chest stopped rising and falling quite so erratically.

The promise that Daniela would take the lead and give her room to breathe was exactly what she needed to hear to keep herself from falling apart.

Silence returned to the room, but now it lacked the desperate urgency of a few minutes earlier.

Daniela unfolded her arms and planted both palms on the mattress behind her.

She glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand.

A little after six in the morning.

“The deal still stands” Daniela said, breaking the quiet again.

Her voice took on a practical, decisive edge.

She looked directly at the leader’s profile.

“Put on rehearsal clothes. We’re going down to Studio Two before the girls wake up and clean up your runway blocking just like I promised.”

The leader looked at the woman beside her —the same woman who had completely dismantled her in the middle of the night and was now handing her control back on a silver platter.

Sophia let out the breath she’d been holding.

Her shoulders finally gave a fraction of an inch.

Then she nodded slowly.

The click of Room 304’s door closing and locking sounded far louder than it should have.

It was exactly seven in the morning.

The hotel hallway was completely deserted, lit only by the yellow wall sconces spaced along the corridor.

The smell of fresh coffee drifting through the building’s ventilation system mixed with the lingering scent of cleaning products embedded in the thick carpet.

Sophia tightened her fingers around the strap of her gym bag.

She was wearing black cargo pants covered in pockets and a cropped gray sweatshirt.

Her straight hair was pulled into an extremely tight low ponytail that tugged at the sides of her face.

She hadn’t put on makeup. The slight puffiness beneath her eyes from lack of sleep remained visible.

Daniela walked half a step ahead of her.

She had thrown on loose black sweatpants whose cuffs dragged lightly against the floor with every step, nearly hiding her worn white sneakers.

On top, she wore a fitted zip às up jacket left open halfway down her chest, revealing the sports bra underneath.

The two of them walked in complete silence toward the elevators at the end of the hallway.

Something in the dynamic between them had undergone a bizarre mutation.

Yesterday, Daniela would have walked shoulder to shoulder with her, her arm brushing against Sophia’s, teasing her with some inside joke or stealing her water bottle.

Today, Daniela kept exactly a foot of distance between them.

No accidental shoulder bumps.

No sideways glances.

Nothing.

She knew that if she pushed for anything right now, Sophia would build an ice wall between them all over again.

Daniela pressed the down button.

The digital panel began counting the elevator’s ascent.

Sophia swallowed.

She adjusted the weight of her bag on her shoulder for the third time in two minutes.

Her leg wasn’t bouncing anymore, but the anxiety had simply shifted targets.

The Coachella stage still haunted the back of her mind, but the absence of Daniela’s touch—so soon after having felt her hand beneath her shirt—left a phantom coldness across the skin of her stomach.

This is what you asked for, Sophia’s brain reminded her.

The elevator doors opened with a mechanical jolt.

Daniela stepped in first and immediately moved to the right corner, leaning one shoulder against the mirrored wall.

Sophia entered after her, taking the opposite side of the cabin near the button panel.

She pressed “S2,” where the smaller rehearsal studios rented by the label were located.

The doors slid shut, cutting off the hallway noise and trapping them inside the moving metal box.

Through the reflection in the mirrored doors, Sophia watched Daniela.

Her head was lowered, her eyes fixed on her phone as her thumb scrolled rapidly across the screen.

Her jaw was relaxed. Her posture was lazy.

She looked a thousand percent untouched by everything that had happened a few hours earlier.

“We’re doing the first five runs without music,” Daniela said suddenly.

Her low, morning rough voice cut through the elevator’s mechanical hum.

She didn’t lift her eyes from the screen.

Sophia blinked, abruptly yanked from her internal panic back into work mode.

She turned her head slightly to look at Daniela directly.

“Without music?” Sophia asked.

Her voice came out rougher than she expected.

She cleared her throat.

“Grant said I need the backing track in my monitor to hit the entrance note.”

“Fuck what Grant said.”

Daniela shot back immediately.

She finally locked her phone and shoved it into the pocket of her sweatpants before looking up to meet Sophia’s eyes.

Her expression was technical. Focused.

Gone was the dangerous spark from the night before.

“If you try to hit the note while you’re still thinking about your footwork, you’re going to tangle everything up again.”

“Body first, Soph. Voice comes last.”

“We’re marking it to a dry click track. I want to hear your sneakers hitting the wood on the right counts before I even think about turning on a speaker.”

Daniela’s professional certainty worked like an instant anchor.

Dance had always been her territory.

Sophia surrendered control immediately.

It was an enormous relief not to have to think through it herself.

“Okay,” Sophia said, nodding slowly.

“Got it. Click track.”

The elevator gave a soft lurch.

The doors opened onto Sublevel Two.

The air down there was noticeably colder, and the white fluorescent lighting lining the empty hallways stung eyes that were still accustomed to the dimness upstairs.

They walked to the double doors of Studio Two, a smaller room than the one they had used the day before.

Daniela pushed the door open with her hip and stepped inside first, feeling along the wall until she found the light panel.

The studio lit up.

Matte gray linoleum flooring. Mirrors covering a single wall.

A few folding plastic chairs abandoned in one corner.

It lacked all the glamour of the main studio.

The room smelled faintly of overworked air conditioning and old dust.

Daniela walked to the corner of the room and dropped her backpack onto the floor with a dull thud. She shrugged off her zip-up jacket in one quick motion, tossing it on top of the bag and leaving herself in nothing but a black sports bra and loose sweatpants.

The sudden change in temperature raised goosebumps along her tanned arms, but Daniela didn’t care.

Sophia crossed to the opposite side of the room, leaving her bag near a small counter. She pulled out her insulated water bottle and set it on the tabletop.

“Pick it up from the start of the bridge. Like Lara just finished her note.”

Daniela was already moving toward the center of the empty floor.

She stopped with her back to the mirror, facing Sophia, settling into the exact position she’d occupy on the Coachella stage during the transition.

“Forget I’m Daniela. Look at me like I’m the visual marker we agreed on yesterday.”

Sophia swallowed.

The switch was bizarre.

They’d kissed a few hours ago. Every inch of her body still remembered the weight of Daniela against her. But now, beneath the cold white lights of the freezing studio, Daniela looked like nothing more than KATSEYE’s main dancer, ready to correct a mistake.

Sophia walked to her mark.

She shook out her hands, trying to loosen the knots of tension in her fingers, then rolled her shoulders back. Her gaze fixed on Daniela’s chest, avoiding direct eye contact so she wouldn’t lose focus.

“On three.”

Daniela clapped once. The sharp crack echoed through the bare room.

“Five, six, seven.”

Sophia moved.

The scrape of rubber soles against linoleum was the only sound.

She marked the first three steps of the transition, projected the run toward the edge of the imaginary runway, shifted her weight, prepared the turn—

“Stop.”

Daniela’s voice cut through the silence.

Sophia froze mid pose, her left knee bent awkwardly, the heel of her right foot raised.

She let out a frustrated breath.

“What now? Did my heel drop?”

Daniela took two short steps toward her.

There was no irritation on her face. Only observation.

“Your heel’s fine. You’re stiff.”

She crossed her arms, stopping two steps away from Sophia.

Close enough to feel the air displaced by her movement. Far enough to respect the invisible agreement.

“You’re counting the steps in your head like a robot, Sophia. You’re locking your hips and dumping all your weight into your back.”

“That’s how we’ve been rehearsing it with the choreographer for the last two weeks, Dani. One, two, three, center, turn.”

Sophia pointed irritably at her own foot.

“That’s how we’ve been rehearsing. Not how we dance.”

Daniela uncrossed her arms.

“The Sahara stage doesn’t have the perfect floor this place does. There’ll be cables on the ground. Dust. The bass vibrating straight into your shins. If you go out there with your knee locked like that, one uneven step and you’ll trip before the chorus.”

Sophia dragged a hand over her face.

Cold sweat was beginning to gather along her hairline.

“So what am I supposed to do? If I loosen the knee, I lose speed in the turn.”

Daniela stood still for three long seconds.

The rule about not touching Sophia was screaming in her head.

A line she’d drawn herself.

But trying to explain weight transfer through telepathy to someone spiraling in anxiety was useless.

She sighed.

“Let me show you.”

Her voice lost some of its instructor edge and slipped back into that rougher register Sophia knew from the hotel room.

A warning disguised as a sentence. The distance was about to be broken.

Daniela took the last two steps, straight into Sophia’s space.

The effect was immediate.

The cold air of the basement seemed to evaporate inside the thirty centimeters separating them.

Daniela didn’t hesitate.

She moved behind Sophia, positioning herself directly at her back, both of them facing the wall length mirror.

Without asking permission, she lifted her hands and settled them firmly on either side of Sophia’s hips.

Sophia sucked in a sharp breath through her nose. Her stomach tightened beneath the cropped sweatshirt.

Daniela’s long fingers gripped the waistband of her black cargo pants. Her thumbs pressed against the strip of bare skin exposed above the fabric.

Her hands were cold from the air conditioning.

Her grip wasn’t.

“Look at the mirror.”

Daniela’s voice dropped into a low, technical murmur. Her face hovered just above Sophia’s right shoulder.

Sophia obeyed.

Her eyes fixed on their reflection.

The height difference between them was minimal, but Daniela’s relaxed posture—with her chest almost brushing Sophia’s back—created an image of absolute control.

“You’re throwing your weight upward. That’s why you’re locking your knee so you don’t fall.”

Daniela’s breath brushed the side of Sophia’s neck.

“The Sahara’s an open air stage. If the wind hits or the floor vibrates, you’ll fall backward. Your center has to be the ground.”

As she spoke, Daniela bent her own knees.

Her hands, still anchored to Sophia’s hips, guided her downward.

The movement forced Sophia to bend her knees too, lowering her center of gravity.

“Relax your lower back. Let the weight settle into your hips.”

Daniela’s thumb pressed lightly against Sophia’s hip bone, adjusting her alignment.

“That’s it. Feel the difference in your feet?”

Sophia swallowed.

The only thing she felt was Daniela’s body fitting perfectly against her back. The clean scent of hotel soap. Her heart hammering in her throat hard enough to drown out any musical count.

“Yeah.”

It came out as a lie.

“You’re lying. You’re stiff again.”

Daniela let out a short laugh.

The vibration traveled through Sophia’s shoulder blades.

She released Sophia’s right hip and slid her hand across the exposed skin of her stomach, applying gentle pressure.

“Lean on me. Take the weight off your leg and give it to me.”

Sophia’s brain flashed an error message.

We agreed to pretend last night never happened.

But there was no teasing in Daniela’s voice. Nothing but professional focus.

With a shaky breath, Sophia gave in.

She released the impossible tension in her shoulders and allowed herself to fall backward against Daniela’s chest.

The fabric of Daniela’s jacket brushed lightly against her back beneath the cropped sweatshirt.

The support was immediate. Daniela didn’t give an inch.

“There. Now transfer the weight to your right foot.”

Daniela guided her, one hand at her stomach, helping rotate her torso, the other still braced against her hip.

They moved together.

One. Two. Three.

The soles squeaked softly against the floor.

“Heel. Lower your center. Turn.”

Daniela dictated the rhythm directly into her ear. Their bodies rotated together around the same axis.

When they stopped facing the mirror again, Sophia’s posture was perfect.

Her supporting foot was planted firmly. Her knee relaxed. Her balance fully restored.

The movement that had felt mechanical moments ago now flowed. Heavy. Grounded.

Exactly what the song needed.

“See?”

Daniela’s voice dropped into a whisper.

Her palm was still spread across Sophia’s stomach.

Her thumb brushed the edge of Sophia’s navel almost accidentally.

“You don’t have to force it. Let gravity do the hard work. You’re not going to fall.”

Sophia stared at their reflection.

Their breathing was uneven again.

Daniela’s chest rose and fell against her back.

The technical correction had worked. The turn was fixed.

But the rule about distance had already turned to dust.

In the mirror, Daniela wasn’t looking at Sophia’s feet anymore.

She was looking straight into her eyes.

The cold studio air vanished.

Daniela’s hand, which should have left Sophia’s stomach the second the turn ended, remained where it was.

Still. Warm against overheated skin.

Her fingers tightening ever so slightly.

“The blocking is… clean.”

Sophia’s voice came out weak.

Unable to break eye contact.

“It is.”

Daniela didn’t move away.

“But we should repeat it.”

Her excuse was paper thin. Delivered in a lazy tone that fooled neither of them.

Nobody cared about muscle memory anymore.

“Dani…”

Sophia meant it as a warning.

It carried no strength whatsoever.

Before she could process what was happening, Daniela lowered her head.

Her nose brushed along Sophia’s jawline.

A lingering ghost of a touch.

Until warm, parted lips finally met the skin just beneath Sophia’s ear.

The temperature shock was immediate.

The studio was freezing.

Daniela’s mouth burned.

Sophia let out a strangled breath.

Her eyes closed instinctively.

Daniela’s hands tightened around her waist and stomach, anchoring her in place.

Making sure she wouldn’t run.

Daniela pressed a slow, heavy kiss against the base of her neck. Dragged her lips along warm skin toward the curve of her jaw.

Every touch was unhurried. Intentional.

Her breath spilled against Sophia’s nape.

Sophia’s knees weakened.

Her head tilted instinctively to the side, offering more space. Giving up more control.

Daniela inhaled sharply.

Then she released Sophia’s stomach, grabbed both sides of her hips, and turned her around in one smooth motion.

Sophia barely had time to open her eyes.

The moment she faced her, Daniela erased the remaining distance and crashed her mouth against Sophia’s.

The impact was immediate.

No hesitation. No testing the waters.

Sophia didn’t pull away.

The instinct she’d spent three years suppressing took over.

Her hands flew to Daniela’s shoulders, bunching the fabric of her jacket and dragging her closer with a force that surprised even her.

The kiss was desperate.

Daniela’s tongue met hers. Sophia yielded instantly.

Mint and coffee sharing the same breath.

The wet sound echoed through the empty studio. Aggressive. Hungry.

Both of them pouring exhaustion, frustration, and years of tension into the collision.

Daniela slid one hand from Sophia’s hip to the small of her back, pressed her forward until there was no space left between them.

Sophia’s heart slammed wildly against her ribs.

Air started becoming a problem.

She didn’t care.

The scent of Daniela.

The certainty of her hands.

The taste of her mouth.

Everything else disappeared.

Then Daniela’s right hand moved.

She gripped the back of Sophia’s thigh.

Long fingers tightening over the thick fabric of her cargo pants.

That single touch. Possessive, intentional, heading somewhere very clear—

Triggered Sophia’s panic instantly.

Reality kicked the door down.

The label team three floors away.

The van waiting outside.

Coachella.

If they didn’t stop right now, clothes would hit the studio floor.

And Sophia knew there wouldn’t be enough sanity left to put herself back together afterward.

With a violent jerk, she pulled away. The kiss broke with a wet sound and a ragged gasp.

Both hands planted flat against Daniela’s chest.

She shoved her back just far enough to create a solid foot of space between them.

“Dani.”

Her voice shook uncontrollably. Broken.

She locked her elbows, a physical barrier.

“No.”

Daniela froze.

Her breathing was every bit as wrecked as Sophia’s. Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath the black sports top.

She blinked.

Her brain taking an extra second to catch up to the loss of contact.

Instinct made her lean forward again, chasing Sophia’s mouth.

But Sophia’s hand pressed harder into her chest, stopping her.

Frustration flashed across Daniela’s face.

“Soph…”

“Go back to your room, Dani.”

The voice that came out wasn’t the frightened groupmate’s.

It was KATSEYE’s leader operating on pure survival instinct.

She let go of Daniela’s jacket and pulled her hands back like the touch had burned her. Then she stumbled two steps backward.

The blast of cold air from the AC hit Sophia’s damp face, and only then did she realize how hot her own skin actually felt.

Daniela crossed her arms beneath her chest, her posture turning stiff and defensive. Her jaw locked.

“We didn’t even finish cleaning up the turn,” Daniela shot back, her voice gaining that stubborn edge, eyes fixed on Sophia’s slightly swollen lips.

“Forget the turn.” Sophia shook her head hard, lifting both hands to run them through her straight hair, tightening her ponytail almost painfully to force herself back into reality.

She stared at the floor, unable to maintain eye contact.

“We can’t do this. Grab your bag and go upstairs.”

“You’re gonna pretend this didn’t happen again?” Daniela threw the question into the air, her voice sharp, dragged down by disappointment and restrained frustration.

“Because that’s not happening. Not after this.”

Sophia stopped backing away.

Finally, she lifted her head. Her dark eyes looked bright and exhausted, carrying the weight of someone trying to hold a stage for a hundred thousand people together with bare hands.

“I’m not pretending nothing happened. I just can’t do this today.”

The confession came out raw, her voice cracking halfway through.

Her arms dropped to her sides.

“Being around you like this, feeling everything I’m feeling, and then having to get onstage in a few hours and lead this group…” She swallowed. “My head’s gonna explode. I can’t split my focus. If you keep touching me, I’m gonna fall apart before we even get to the desert.”

Daniela stayed quiet.

The immediate sting of rejection disappeared instantly.

The honesty in Sophia’s voice hit like cold water. Daniela swallowed and slowly uncrossed her arms.

“So what do you want?” Daniela asked quietly, her tone dropping into something softer. Careful.

Sophia bit the inside of her cheek, forcing the pulse in her neck to settle before saying it.

“We need to stay apart.”

The instruction came out firm despite the tremor in her voice.

“No touching. No weird comments. No bumping into each other in the hallway. And definitely no sharing beds or locking studio doors with me again.”

Daniela frowned, shifting her weight.

“For God’s sake, Sophia. We’re on the same tour. We ride in the same van.”

“Until Coachella is over,” Sophia cut in immediately, fingers tightening around the seams of her cargo pants. “At least until this show is done. I need my brain working on logistics so I don’t let the girls down. After the show’s over… we’ll deal with whatever happened here.”

She finally looked at Daniela.

“But until we step off that stage… stay on your side, Dani. Please.”

The please broke the last of Daniela’s resistance.

She let out a long, heavy breath through her nose.

She didn’t argue.

Because she knew pushing Sophia now meant risking the entire group paying for it a few hours later in front of thousands of people.

Daniela turned on her heel and walked to the back of the studio in complete silence. She grabbed her backpack off the floor, threw the strap over her shoulder, and headed for the double metal doors without looking at the mirror.

She walked right past Sophia.

“See you on the bus, Sophia,” Daniela said quietly. Emotionless.

Then she pushed the heavy door open and disappeared into the cold basement hallway.

The dull thud of the door closing echoed across the empty studio, followed by the final metallic click of the lock.

Daniela’s footsteps disappeared quickly.

And suddenly the room became unbearably quiet.

Sophia stood in the same place for three full seconds, staring at the dull metal door Daniela had just walked through.

Her breathing was still uneven.

She tried to take a step toward her bag.

But the adrenaline keeping her upright vanished instantly.

Her legs gave out.

Without enough strength to hold herself up, Sophia backed into the cold mirror and slowly slid down until she reached the gray studio floor.

She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and buried her face there.

The first sob escaped before she realized she was crying.

Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just dense, suffocating frustration.

Warm tears soaked into the thick black fabric of her cargo pants while her chest shook with silent tremors.

Her fear of walking onto that stage had fused with the sharp pain of pushing away the one person who could actually calm her down.

Sophia dug her nails into her own arms.

Her mouth still tingled. The lingering warmth on her lips felt cruel.

For months — maybe years, if she was being brutally honest — kissing Daniela Avanzini had been a scene running on loop inside her head.

She’d imagined what that mouth would feel like.

How Daniela’s hands would settle against her waist.

How their perfume would mix and fill the air.

Reality had been infinitely worse.

Or better.

The intensity. The urgency.

The way Daniela’s body had wrapped around hers with something dangerously close to possession.

Sophia had expected relief.

Instead she found the edge of a cliff.

Giving herself to Daniela felt like complete and absolute destruction of control.

And for Sophia control was the only thing keeping her breathing.

She squeezed her eyes shut. More tears.

The memory of Daniela’s hand sliding lower burned under her skin.

If she hadn’t stopped it.

If she’d let herself fall, she knew exactly what would’ve happened.

She would’ve given in. And that was exactly why she had to stop.

Coachella wasn’t just another show. It was the moment. Manon. Lara. Megan. Yoonchae. Daniela. They all needed their leader functioning.

So to protect the performance of their lives—

Sophia had broken her own heart.

And Daniela’s with it.

She let out a low, pained sound and pressed her forehead harder against her knees.

The emptiness Daniela left behind in the studio felt physical.

All Sophia wanted was to throw that stupid rule away, run down the hallway, grab Daniela by the jacket and pull her back.

She wanted that kiss back with every exhausted cell in her body.

But tomorrow was the festival.

Sophia inhaled shakily through her nose, swallowing the salty taste of tears.

She kept crying alone on the studio floor, trying to glue her armor back together before she had to step back into the elevator and pretend everything was perfectly fine.

The sound of the metal handle turning was the only warning before the studio door slowly opened.

Sophia jolted. Pure leader instinct.

She wiped at her face with the back of her hand and tried to sit straighter against the mirror. Too late.

Manon stepped inside carrying two bottles of water.

She’d only come back because she’d forgotten her jacket from the day before—

but the second her eyes landed on Sophia curled up on the floor she froze.

The tears still glistened on Sophia’s flushed face, and her shoulders kept rising and falling in that uneven, painful rhythm of someone trying to force themselves not to cry.

Manon closed the door behind her carefully, the metallic click sounding oddly soft. She set the water bottles down on the counter and, without saying a single word, walked toward the center of the room.

Her steps were light, completely unhurried. She approached, slowly bent her knees, and sat cross legged on the floor right in front of Sophia, closing the distance in the gentlest way possible.

Manon was the only person there older than Sophia.

For years, Sophia had carried the weight of being everyone’s compass — the rock that kept Katseye steady — but with Manon, the dynamic was slightly different.

Manon was quiet maturity, the friend who brought softness into the group and who, deep down, understood exactly how heavy the crown on Sophia’s head really was.

Sophia looked up at her, eyes flooded with tears, and the sight of her friend’s open, judgment free expression shattered the last lock she had left.

She couldn’t hold the pose anymore. The armor cracked completely.

A broken breath escaped her in a loud sob as she covered her face with both hands again and finally let herself cry.

“Hey… hey. It’s okay.”

Manon stretched out her arms and gently pulled Sophia forward, wrapping her in a tight, protective hug.

Sophia rested her forehead against Manon’s shoulder. She cried hard, fingers gripping the fabric at Manon’s back with desperate strength.

The frustration over Daniela.

Her mouth still numb from the kiss.

The desire she’d shoved down.

The panic over Coachella.

It all exploded inside that embrace.

But she couldn’t talk about Daniela.

She couldn’t introduce that variable into the group before the biggest day of their careers.

“It’s the fucking show, Manon,”

Sophia managed between sobs, her voice muffled against her friend’s shoulder, forcing the excuse with every bit of conviction she had left.

“There’s gonna be so many people. If I mess up… if I miss the fucking ramp entrance… I’m gonna ruin everything for you guys. Sohey’s pushing, the team’s running around… I feel like I’m gonna explode. I haven’t been able to breathe properly for three days.”

Manon didn’t interrupt. She just kept gently rocking Sophia on the studio floor, one hand rubbing slow circles over her back, spreading warmth across her stiff spine.

She let Sophia empty everything she’d been carrying until the sobs started slowing and her breathing stretched longer again.

Eventually, Manon pulled back just enough to hold Sophia by the arms and look straight into her eyes.

She smiled. Soft. Calm.

Her brown eyes carried an almost unfair amount of peace.

“Look at me, Soph. You hear me?”

Sophia blinked.

“You’re doing everything perfectly. Absolutely everything perfectly.”

Sophia wiped her nose with the sleeve of her gray hoodie and looked away for a second, embarrassed by how exposed she felt.

“I tripped the turn earlier, Manon. My weight transfer’s off.”

Manon let out a short laugh and nudged her shoulder lightly.

“So what? We run it again during soundcheck with an empty stage. You think anyone in the crowd is gonna know your axis shifted two centimeters?”

She grabbed one of the water bottles, twisted the cap open, and handed it over.

“Here. Drink.”

Sophia took it with hands that still trembled a little and swallowed a few long gulps.

The cold water washed down her dry throat.

Manon leaned back on her palms.

“I know this is the biggest show of our lives, Soph. I know how huge that poster is. I know how many people are gonna be out there.”

She smiled faintly.

“The whole world’s gonna be watching…”

Then she tilted her head.

“But wanna hear a secret?”

Sophia looked up.

Manon shrugged.

“In the end, it’s not different from any other show we’ve ever done.”

Sophia frowned.

“What do you mean not different? It’s one hundred thousand people, Manon.”

Manon smiled wider.

“It’s one hundred thousand people in the dark.”

“You’re not gonna see anybody except maybe the first row.”

She pointed lightly.

“The microphone in your hand’s the same one.”

“The track in your in-ears is the same one.”

“The five girls dancing next to you are the same girls who split late night iFood orders with you.”

She gave Sophia’s knee a small squeeze.

“So yeah—the stage might be the size of the desert… but our spacing is still the same little square.”

Her smile softened.

“It’s the same show. We’re just changing the address.”

Sophia let out one long breath, it felt like half the weight crushing her chest left with it.

Manon’s words hit with the precision of light.

The crystal clear logic dismantled the monster her anxiety had built around Coachella.

Sophia huffed out a laugh.

“You’re so annoying when you’re right.”

Manon gasped dramatically.

“I’m the oldest. It’s in my contract to be wise and annoying.”

She reached over and messed up Sophia’s ponytail before standing in one smooth motion and extending a hand.

“Now clean your face.”

She grinned.

“Megan’s upstairs thinking I went to Switzerland to personally manufacture my hoodie, and the van leaves in twenty minutes.”

Sophia took her hand and stood. Her legs felt steadier.

She grabbed her duffel bag from the counter, adjusted her hoodie, and inhaled deeply, feeling her lungs fill properly for the first time all day.

The ache of pushing Daniela away was still there—a dull pulse somewhere behind her ribs.

But the paralyzing panic was gone.

The tour bus engine rumbled heavily and steadily in the underground parking garage by the time Sophia finally boarded.

The inside of the vehicle felt like a parallel universe. The main lights were off, replaced only by dark blue LED strips outlining the floor of the narrow aisle. The air conditioning was running at a brutal temperature, cooling the space so the capsule-style beds along the sides of the bus would stay comfortable to sleep in during the drive to Indio.

Yoonchae and Lara had already disappeared toward the back of the bus, while Megan and Manon brushed their teeth at the small sink in the bathroom.

Sophia sighed, the mental exhaustion and lingering aftermath of crying making her eyes feel heavy. She walked quietly toward the capsule with her name taped to the wood.

She stopped in front of the bunk, ready to slide the black curtain shut and collapse, but when she opened the gap—

she froze.

On top of the clean pillow, arranged perfectly, sat a bottle of mineral water, a packaged natural sandwich she loved but had forgotten to grab, and her noise-canceling headphones, which she had sworn she’d lost in the van the night before.

A knot formed instantly in Sophia’s throat.

She looked over her shoulder.

Daniela was leaning against the edge of her own bunk on the opposite side of the narrow aisle. Her curly hair fell loose, and the expression on her face broke Sophia’s heart clean in half.

Daniela didn’t look angry.

There wasn’t that predatory spark, or irony, or the defensive, stubborn posture she wore like armor.

Her dark eyes carried a quiet sadness, a very soft hurt from the abrupt distance Sophia had put between them in the studio—

but above all, they overflowed with complete understanding.

“You didn’t eat anything before rehearsal. And highways are loud,” Daniela whispered into the tiny space between them, her low voice coming out soft, almost like a careful breath so she wouldn’t scare the leader again.

Sophia turned to face her.

The aisle was so narrow their knees almost touched. She felt her eyes sting for the second time that morning.

“Dani…”

Sophia’s voice cracked.

She lowered her head for a second, her hands gripping the edge of the mattress.

“I’m sorry. About earlier. I didn’t mean to react like that.”

Daniela pulled one hand out of her hoodie pocket.

In a movement painfully slow, giving Sophia all the time in the world to pull away if she wanted, Daniela stretched out her arm and gently rested her warm hand over Sophia’s hand gripping the wood of the bed.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, Soph,” Daniela murmured.

Her tone carried such raw and honest affection that it dismantled whatever defenses Sophia had still been trying to build.

“I know how much you’re carrying on your shoulders today. I know what I did dropped another ton of anxiety into your head when you needed it least.”

She swallowed.

“This was my fault.”

“No. It wasn’t,” Sophia denied immediately, lifting her face.

She couldn’t stop herself from looking at Daniela’s lips, the memory of the kiss crashing into her again—

but this time without panic. Only with a strange, anticipatory longing.

“I wanted that just as much as you did.”

She looked down.

“I just… got scared.”

A very small smile curved Daniela’s lips.

Sad, but impossibly sweet.

Her thumb stroked slowly and chastely across the back of Sophia’s trembling hand.

“I know you did. It’s okay,” Daniela assured her, dark eyes sinking into Sophia’s with a depth that stole the air from the older girl’s lungs.

“Soph. Look at me.”

Sophia did.

Daniela held her gaze.

“I waited three years for last night.”

A pause.

“Do you really think I’m gonna give up on you just because we have to postpone this for twenty four hours?”

Sophia let out a shaky breath.

Her chest softened with relief.

Daniela took one tiny step forward, the distance disappearing while keeping the contact only at their joined hands.

She leaned in—

and Sophia closed her eyes instinctively when she felt Daniela’s face getting closer.

But Daniela didn’t go for her mouth. She pressed her lips softly against Sophia’s forehead.

A lingering kiss. Warm. Filled with silent devotion.

“Focus on the show.”

“Do what you were born to do.”

“I’m gonna be right there next to you on stage.”

“And when it’s over, and when you’re ready…”

Her voice softened.

“I’ll be here.”

Sophia opened her eyes, her heart warm and melting in her chest.

She squeezed Daniela’s fingers—

a silent gesture of gratitude and promise.

“Deal.” Sophia replied, her voice finally calm.

Daniela smiled back.

She released the leader’s hand gently and stepped back toward her own bunk.

“Eat the sandwich, and try to sleep.”

She closed the dark curtain of her space.

Sophia stayed standing in the aisle for another second, holding her breath—

but for the first time in those last terrifying weeks—

the idea of stepping onto the Coachella stage didn’t scare her anymore.

The bus gave a gentle jolt as it merged onto the highway, the engine settling into a low, constant hum beneath the carpeted floor.

Sophia climbed into her bunk. The darkness was almost complete, broken only by the faint glow of her phone screen. The capsule was cramped, but the mattress was surprisingly soft.

She had already eaten the sandwich—which had, in fact, eased the ache in her stomach caused by anxiety—and now she lay on her side, her noise canceling headphones resting around her neck.

She stared at the thick black curtain separating her from the aisle.

And consequently—

from the woman lying in the exact same position less than a meter away.

Sophia sighed, long and shaky.

Exhaustion weighed on every muscle in her body, but her mind was wrapped in a warm and comforting haze.

The kiss on her forehead.

The warmth of Daniela’s hand over hers.

The silent promise that everything would be okay…

That had numbed her stage panic in a way no amount of Manon’s logic ever could.

She unlocked her phone.

The light illuminated her face in the dimness, revealing the trace of a restrained smile.

She opened Daniela’s chat.

The last message there was a link to a stupid video Daniela had sent days ago.

Sophia’s fingers hovered over the keyboard.

The little “online” icon glowed softly at the top of the screen — which meant Daniela was staring at her phone in the dark too.

Sophia: The sandwich was perfect. Thank you for taking care of me, Dani.

She sent it. Less than five seconds later, the typing bubble appeared.

Daniela: Always, Soph. You hadn’t eaten anything. You would’ve ended up feeling sick on the drive.

Sophia hugged her pillow tighter and felt warmth spread through her chest. Daniela’s answer was simple, but it carried that practical, unconditional Daniela had always had for her, hidden beneath the untouchable
main dancer posture.

Sophia: You should try to sleep. It’s still early.

Daniela: I tried. But the adrenaline won’t let me.

Daniela: And knowing you’re a meter away after everything that happened today isn’t exactly helping my brain shut off.

Sophia swallowed hard.

Daniela’s honesty made her want to answer with her own. She wanted to erase any lingering hurt that might still be there from the way she’d run away in the studio.

Sophia: I can’t stop thinking about what happened…

Daniela: Me neither. In the studio, in the hotel bed… all of it.

Daniela: But I don’t want us talking about it if it’s gonna make you nervous for tomorrow’s show.

Daniela: I promised I’d give you space.

Sophia: It’s not making me nervous.

Sophia: Not anymore. Actually… now that the panic passed, I just feel really bad for cutting us off like that.

Daniela took longer to reply this time. Sophia watched the typing bubble disappear and reappear, like Daniela kept deleting and rewriting.

Daniela: Soph, I already told you not to apologize.

Daniela: I understood why.

Daniela: I’m not hurt, I swear.

Sophia took a deep breath, her thumb trembling lightly over the keyboard. If she was finally going to surrender to this feeling she’d been suffocating for three years, she wanted to do it right.

Sophia: I need you to know something.

Sophia: I didn’t pull away because it was bad, Dani. Or because it was a mistake.

Sophia: I pulled away because it was exactly everything I dreamed it would be.

Sophia: That kiss was the best thing I’ve ever felt.

Sophia: And that scared me so much. I got scared of how strong what I feel for you is.

Sophia: I got scared that I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else in my life besides you, and the group needed all of me for Coachella.

Sophia: I didn’t run from you, Dani. I ran because I realized I’m completely, hopelessly in your hands.

The digital silence that followed was deafening.

Sophia stared at the screen, her breathing suspended, her heart beating softly and vulnerably against her ribs.

A full minute passed without any answer while the bus rocked gently through a long curve.

Then her phone vibrated in her hand.

Daniela: Sophia.

Daniela: I’ve been completely in love with you since the first year we shared a rehearsal room.

Daniela: Having you in my arms this morning, hearing your breathing close to mine… it was the most beautiful and surreal thing that’s ever happened to me.

Daniela: I’m terrified too, but I’m never going to let us lose ourselves. I’m here to hold you up.

A warm, silent tear full of pure relief slid from the corner of Sophia’s eye and disappeared into the soft pillow.

Reading that under the glow of her phone brought a kind of peace she hadn’t known was possible. Three years of secrets and unsaid glances evaporated into the cold air of the bus.

Daniela: We don’t have to rush.

Daniela: We don’t have to run toward anything.

Daniela: We’ve got all the time in the world, Soph. I waited for you until now. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.

Daniela: Tomorrow, in the desert, I’ll just be your partner on stage. I promise.

Sophia wiped away the tear with the back of her hand, an exhausted, radiant smile spreading across her face.

Sophia: I know you will.

Sophia: Dani.

Daniela: Yeah, baby?

The nickname, typed so naturally and affectionately, made Sophia’s stomach twist with love.

She locked her phone and tossed it aside onto the mattress.

Sliding toward the edge of her bunk, Sophia reached for the zipper of her curtain.

With extreme care, she pulled the black fabric down, opening only a narrow gap—just enough to reveal the tiny hallway and the calm glow of the blue LED strips along the floor.

Across from her, the zipper on Daniela’s capsule came down too.

In the blue half light, Daniela’s soft dark eyes found hers.

Daniela was lying on her side, her face resting against the pillow, oversized hoodie shielding her from the cold air conditioning.

Her expression looked like devotion in its purest form.

There was no pressure. No teasing. No impatience.

Only a woman looking at the love of her life with a quiet, peaceful smile.

Neither of them said anything.

The hum of the engine was the only soundtrack.

Slowly, Sophia reached her right hand through the opening in the curtain, stretching her arm into the empty space between them.

Her slender fingers hovered in the cold air.

Daniela’s smile widened, reaching her eyes and creasing the corners.

Without hesitation, she reached out too.

Their hands met in the middle of the narrow hallway.

The contrast of Daniela’s warm skin against Sophia’s cold fingertips brought instant relief to the leader’s body.

Daniela didn’t pull her closer. She didn’t invade her space.

She simply intertwined her long fingers with Sophia’s, holding her hand with a steady gentleness, like their hands had been made to fit together.

Daniela’s thumb started tracing a slow, hypnotic half moon across the back of Sophia’s hand — a soft touch that said everything words couldn’t.

The steady motion worked like a pendulum, calming Sophia’s heartbeat and relaxing the last knots of tension in her shoulders.

The sharp jolt of the air brakes and the hiss escaping beneath the floor of the bus were the signs that the trip was over.

Sophia opened her eyes slowly.

The slit in her curtain was still open, but Daniela’s hand wasn’t there anymore.

The hallway was lit by natural daylight spilling in from the driver’s cabin, and the sounds of zippers opening and bags being dragged meant the Katseye camp was already awake.

She stretched, feeling her muscles rested for the first time in weeks.

The crushing weight in her chest was gone.

In place of the paralyzing anxiety was a strange clarity, like the fog had lifted during the drive.

She looked at her right hand, her thumb brushing instinctively over the place where Daniela’s fingers had been stroking hers, and an involuntary smile tugged at her mouth.

“Morning, sleeping beauty. Get out of bed — the desert’s already boiling,” Manon’s sleepy voice came from outside the capsule, followed by two light knocks against the wooden frame.

Sophia pulled the curtain all the way open, slipped on her sneakers, and grabbed her duffel bag.

As soon as the bus doors opened, the impact was brutal.

The freezing air conditioning vanished instantly under a blast of hot, dry wind that smelled like dust and melting asphalt. The Indio, California sun burned overhead—merciless and blinding against a cloudless sky.

Coachella backstage looked like a chaotic city dropped in the middle of nowhere.

Golf carts zipped past kicking up clouds of dust, producers with headsets shouted into radios, and enormous metal structures towered in the distance, cutting across the horizon. Somewhere nearby, the low thump of bass from another soundcheck made the ground vibrate faintly beneath their feet.

“I’m gonna melt before we even get to makeup,” Megan complained loudly as she stepped off the bus wearing oversized sunglasses that covered half her face, fanning at her neck dramatically.

Yoonchae came down right after her, still wearing flannel pajamas, eyes narrowed against the sunlight and clutching a neck pillow like an adorable zombie.

Sophia was the last one to step onto the dry ground.

She adjusted her duffel bag over her shoulder, scanning the organized chaos of the festival until she found Daniela. She was already standing a few meters away talking to the stage producer.

She wore a loose black tank top and old gray sweatpants, curly hair twisted into a messy high bun.

The second Sophia stepped down, Daniela turned toward her almost magnetically.

In the middle of the dust and noise of Coachella, their eyes met.

Daniela didn’t smile — not openly, not with crew members everywhere — but her dark eyes softened in a way that made Sophia’s stomach flip.

It was the kind of look that confirmed every word they’d exchanged in the dark of the bus.

I’m here. I’m yours.

Daniela gave the smallest nod, shoulders loose and relaxed, then turned back to the producer’s clipboard.

“Girls, trailers seven and eight!” Missy called, clapping her hands to hurry them along.

“Wardrobe already arrived. Hair and makeup first, interviews after, then Sahara soundcheck at five! Move!”

The walk through the maze of containers and trailers assigned to Katseye was quick.

The main trailer had a colorful sign on the door with the group’s name written in glitter.

Inside, the contrast was immediate. The AC was blasting.

Vanity mirrors lined the walls under bright dressing room lights, clothing racks overflowed in every corner, and three makeup artists were already laying out brushes across counters crowded with products.

The air smelled like hairspray and fresh coffee.

Sophia slipped into leader mode so naturally it almost surprised her.

The heaviness of the previous days was gone.

“Manon and Lara, makeup chairs first. Megan, go change out of those pajamas because wardrobe wants to adjust your boot hem,” Sophia instructed, voice clean and steady, dropping her bag onto a couch in the corner.

The girls scattered immediately, the group’s usual chaotic but efficient rhythm filling the small space.

Daniela came in a few minutes later, shutting the door behind her to block out the heat.

She walked straight toward the catering counter at the back and quietly poured something into a ceramic mug.

Sophia had her back turned, talking to one of the makeup artists about foundation that would survive sweat, when she felt Daniela’s presence approach behind her.

That familiar scent cut through the cloud of hairspray.

“Excuse me, Soph,” Daniela murmured politely and professionally, voice calm enough for anyone listening.

She slipped behind Sophia through the narrow gap between her and the chair.

The movement was calculated down to the centimeter. As Daniela passed, the side of her hip brushed lightly against Sophia’s waist.

And below the makeup artist’s line of sight, Daniela’s warm hand ghosted across Sophia’s back — two fingers sliding over her spine so quickly and subtly that if Sophia had blinked, she might’ve thought she imagined it.

But she hadn’t.

The immediate shiver running up the back of her neck was proof enough.

Daniela stopped beside Sophia’s station, set the ceramic mug down near the mirror, and stepped back, crossing her arms against the wall.

Sophia looked down.

Mint tea. A little honey. Thick slices of ginger floating at the bottom.

Exactly what she drank before heavy rehearsals and performances to protect her voice.

Made at exactly the right temperature — not boiling, not lukewarm.

She looked up and caught Daniela’s reflection behind her.

Daniela watched her with an expression so calm, so full of quiet affection, that Sophia felt her chest overflow.

She wasn’t asking for closeness. She wasn’t teasing. She wasn’t pushing physical boundaries.

She was simply keeping her promise from the night before — being the invisible anchor holding Sophia to the ground while she got the group ready to fly.

Sophia picked up the mug by the handle. Warmth spread into her fingers.

She lifted it to her lips and immediately felt relief settle over her dry throat.

She didn’t look away from the mirror.

With the mug near her mouth, Sophia smiled back.

Small. Soft. Irrevocably in love.

Daniela blinked slowly in return, the corner of her mouth pulling upward into a knowing smile before she looked away toward the door, already shifting her focus to soundcheck.

Technical rehearsal at the Sahara Tent was, by definition, an endurance marathon.

For two straight hours, they repeated blocks.

Sophia—guided by Daniela’s voice in her head— drop your weight, axis to the floor, free your hips — delivered an immaculate performance.

Her timing was surgical.

Every arm movement in Debut sliced through the air with precision, and her voice, even without perfect monitor feedback, landed every note with enviable stability.

Until the third run of Pinky Up.

That was when exhaustion started collecting its debt.

“Full run now! No stops!” Grant’s voice echoed through the sound system, already strained with the stress of having a filming crew waiting for the final take.

Sophia positioned herself. Her muscles screamed with fatigue, but she felt confident.

They nailed the first part of the transition.

Manon was flawless on the left, Lara on the right. Sophia ran to her mark on the runway, feeling the vibration of the stage beneath her feet.

She prepared for the turn, shifted her weight, spun — and in the exact millisecond her heel should’ve planted into the floor, a badly placed cable from the technical crew slid beneath the rubber of her sneaker.

Her foot slipped.

It wasn’t a dramatic fall, but enough to throw off her balance.

She stumbled and had to throw a hand onto the stage to catch herself. The choreography continued around her in a blur of movement, but the note she was supposed to hit perfectly came out a semitone flat, dragged down by the effort of not collapsing.

The music cut off abruptly.

“Stop. Stop everything!” Grant left the sound booth, climbing the stage stairs with heavy steps. His face was red.

“Sophia, what was that? We’re in Indio. In twenty four hours, a hundred thousand people are going to be expecting this.”

He spread his arms sharply.

“Do you think the audience is gonna care there was a cable on the floor? They don’t care about excuses, they want perfection!”

Sophia was breathing hard, sweat running down her temples, her forehead burning.

“It was the cable, I slipped…” she tried, her voice coming out weak.

“The cable is the crew’s problem. The mistake is yours!” he snapped, his voice echoing through the dome of the tent.

“You’re the leader, Sophia. If you fall, the group falls. If you mess up, we become a meme. The name Katseye is on the line tomorrow. If you can’t hold your center with a hundred thousand people watching you, maybe you shouldn’t be on this stage.”

The words hit like arrows.

The size of the tent— which had felt like a challenge moments ago— suddenly turned into a grave.

Sophia looked out at the empty arena and, for a second, she saw a hundred thousand impatient faces.

She saw internet comments.

She saw the career they’d built over the last two years collapsing because of one stumble during a technical rehearsal.

I’m gonna ruin everything.

The panic climbed up her throat.

I’m the leader. I’m the weak link that’s gonna get the whole group thrown away.

The air disappeared.

The sound around her started warping, like she was underwater.

“I… I can’t…” she tried to speak, but her hands started shaking uncontrollably, the microphone suddenly weighing a thousand pounds.

Daniela, standing only a few meters away, took a step forward. Her eyes locked onto the leader with concern so sharp it bordered on panic.

“Grant, stop talking. Can’t you see she’s not okay—”

“No! She needs to hear this!” Grant shot back, louder.

Sophia couldn’t take it anymore.

The edges of her vision started going dark.

The fear of ruining Daniela’s future, Manon’s, Lara’s, Megan’s, Yoonchae’s— it became a weight she couldn’t carry another second.

She ripped her in ears out with one harsh movement, the wire tangling around her neck and scraping her skin.

Without looking back. Without asking permission. Without apologizing.

She turned and ran.

Her feet slammed against the rubber flooring. She flew down the side stairs, ignoring Manon calling after her and Grant shouting something she couldn’t process.

She ran across the packed dirt, the setting sun painting everything blood red like it was mocking her panic.

The tour bus was parked nearby, a refuge in the middle of chaos.

She climbed the steps stumbling, slammed the door shut behind her so hard the sound echoed through the entire vehicle.

Back on stage, Daniela didn’t hesitate for a second.

Her eyes locked onto Grant with hatred so intense the choreographer actually stepped back.

“If something happens to her, I swear to God you’re gonna regret it,” Daniela said.

Her voice was low. Lethal. Heavy with the kind of promise people didn’t say twice.

She didn’t look at the others, frozen in shock.

She jumped off the stage, ignored everyone calling after her, and started running.

Cutting straight toward the bus.

Heart pounding against her ribs with an urgency that went beyond rehearsals, beyond the show, beyond rules.

The crash of the bus door being thrown open shattered the silence of the parking lot.

Daniela came in like a storm, the metal slamming against the stopper and echoing through the enclosed space.

The second the door shut again, sealing them inside the cold, dim vehicle, she stopped.

The air conditioning hit her sweaty skin but she didn’t feel cold.

Every sense locked onto the sound coming from the back of the narrow aisle.

It was broken. Agonizing. The sound of someone fighting their own body just to drag in a thread of oxygen.

Daniela crossed the distance between the couches in seconds.

There, on the floor between the bunks, pressed against the wooden drawers, was Sophia.

The leader had her knees pulled tight to her chest. Her entire body shook in violent spasms. Both hands were buried in her own hair, fingers yanking at the dark strands with desperate force, like physical pain might distract her from the collapse in her head.

Her face was buried against her legs. Her shoulders rose and fell in chaotic, shattered breaths.

Daniela’s heart dropped into her stomach.

Her protective instinct took over completely.

Fuck the distance rule. Fuck rehearsal.

Daniela dropped to her knees right in front of Sophia, her sweatpants scraping against the carpet. The space was so tight she had to fit her legs around Sophia’s curled up body.

“Soph. Soph, it’s me.”

Her voice came out steady. Gentle. Urgent.

Sophia didn’t lift her head.

A strangled sob escaped her throat.

“I can’t…” Sophia’s voice came out crushed, almost impossible to understand. “The cable… I didn’t see it… I’m gonna ruin everything, Dani. The group… everyone…”

The spiral of anxiety was swallowing her alive.

Daniela didn’t try logic. When Sophia got like this, logic stopped existing.

Her brain switched into survival mode.

She needed an anchor.

Daniela reached forward and wrapped firm hands around Sophia’s wrists.

Not aggressive. Just enough pressure to loosen the cold fingers tearing at her own hair.

“Let go. Look at me.”

Sophia shook her head violently. Her eyes stayed squeezed shut. Hot tears ran down her face and stained her cargo pants.

Her chest heaved so unevenly her lips were starting to lose color.

“I’m gonna ruin… Megan’s career… Lara’s… I can’t handle this pressure… I’m a fraud…”

Daniela released her wrists.

Then, in one smooth, possessive movement, she slid both hands up to Sophia’s face.

Her warm palms cupped her soaked cheeks. Her thumbs rested right along the tight line of her jaw.

With unwavering firmness, Daniela lifted her face.

Sophia’s dark eyes opened. Wide. Blown open with pure terror.

Her chest still fighting uselessly against the hyperventilation.

“Look at me.”

Daniela’s voice came sharper now.

Cutting through the noise in Sophia’s head like a blade.

“Forget Grant. Forget the fucking stage and forget the cable.”

She held her gaze.

“You’re here with me.”

“On our bus.”

“You’re safe.”

Sophia tried to pull in air, but her breathing locked in her throat, breaking into a sharp gasp.

Seeing that panic was still winning, Daniela closed the last few inches between them.

She pulled Sophia’s trembling body forward, pressing her firmly against her chest. Daniela wrapped one arm around Sophia’s waist while her other hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers sinking into her dark hair to keep Sophia’s face tucked against the curve of her neck.

“Close your eyes. And feel my heartbeat.”

Daniela’s chest still rose and fell quickly from the run, her heart hammering against her ribs in a steady rhythm.

A physical heartbeat. Real. Beating directly against Sophia’s collapsing chest.

“Can you feel me?” Daniela murmured, her cheek resting against Sophia’s damp temple.

She started rocking them very gently, almost imperceptibly side to side.

“Breathe with me, Soph. Slow. Count to four. One… two…”

Sophia let out a broken sob against Daniela’s black tank top. Her hands came up instinctively, clutching at the fabric on Daniela’s back, nails digging in like Daniela was the only thing keeping her from falling off a cliff.

“I’m with you. I’ve got you. Nobody’s going anywhere. You’re not gonna ruin anything. I’m here.”

Daniela’s warm, overwhelming presence felt like throwing ice water onto a fire.

It wasn’t instant.

But little by little — forced by the impossible to ignore barrier of Daniela’s embrace and guided by the steady beat of her heart — Sophia’s breathing began to unlock.

The sharp gasps slowly gave way to long, exhausted sobs. Cold air from the AC finally started reaching her lungs properly.

The hyperventilation loosened, collapsing into relief and pure exhaustion.

Sophia buried her face deeper into Daniela’s neck. She cried every tear she’d been swallowing for weeks.

She cried for the weight of being everyone’s compass.

For Grant yelling.

For the fear of failing.

And Daniela never loosened her grip once, her hands moving in slow, firm strokes across Sophia’s small back.

When the crying finally eased, leaving only occasional tremors behind, silence settled over the bus again.

Broken only by their heavy breathing.

“That’s it…” Daniela whispered.

Her voice was rough and soaked in affection as she pressed a kiss to the top of Sophia’s head.

“Good. Breathe, mi amor.”

Sophia didn’t pull away.

She was completely drained, her whole weight collapsing against Daniela’s body.

Her hands, which had been clutching at Daniela’s jacket in desperation before, now just rested loosely at the younger woman’s waist.

“I’m sorry,” Sophia murmured quietly, throat aching, shame starting to replace panic.

Daniela stopped rocking.

She pulled back only enough to look directly into those exhausted dark eyes.

Her hand came up again, brushing away the wet trail of a tear from Sophia’s golden skin with her thumb.

“If you apologize one more time today, I swear I’m gonna kiss you just to make you shut up.”

It was a threat, but there wasn’t an ounce of anger in her voice.

Only devotion so obvious it hurt.

Sophia let out a broken, damp laugh.

“If you mess up, Soph, then we mess up together,” Daniela said.

Her voice turned serious now. Her dark eyes caught the dim light of the aisle.

“You don’t own our failures any more than you own our successes. We’re a group.”

She held Sophia’s gaze.

“If you fall on that stage tomorrow, do you really think I’m gonna keep dancing?”

Her mouth tilted slightly.

“I’ll stop the damn song, sit next to you on the floor, and we’ll get back up together.”

“Did you hear me?”

Her thumb brushed Sophia’s cheek.

“You are not carrying us alone.”

Those words swept through the wreckage Sophia’s fear had left behind.

Sophia closed her eyes, letting herself absorb the weight — and truth — of them.

Then she rested her forehead against Daniela’s.

Their breathing finally settled into the same slow, heavy rhythm.

The agonizing sound of crying disappeared, leaving behind only the steady hum of the bus’s air conditioner and the suffocating reality of how close they were.

Sophia opened her eyes slowly.

Her vision was still blurred from fresh tears.

But the first thing that came into focus was Daniela’s dark eyes.

Only millimeters away.

The panic was gone.

Burned away by the anchor Daniela had become.

And in the empty space fear left behind, something dangerous settled inside Sophia.

The distance rule hadn’t just been broken. It had been completely destroyed.

Daniela’s legs were still pressed against hers on the narrow floor.

One of the her large hands rested firmly at the base of Sophia’s spine while the other still traced the side of her neck, her thumb drawing invisible circles against sensitive skin beneath her loose hair.

Heat radiated through Daniela’s body. A brutal contrast to the freezing air inside the bus.

Sophia swallowed.

Her throat scraped.

But her heart didn’t race from anxiety this time.

It raced from something raw. Something overwhelming. Want.

Daniela noticed the shift in the leader’s gaze.

She stopped stroking her neck, the muscles in her own shoulders tightening slightly.

She had promised she wouldn’t cross the line.

She’d given her word back in the studio and again in their late night messages that she would only be Sophia’s safe harbor.

So even as her breathing caught, Daniela didn’t move her face forward even a centimeter.

Sophia didn’t pull away.

Instead, her hands — which had been resting limply at Daniela’s waist — slowly moved.

Sophia’s slender fingers grabbed the fabric of Daniela’s black tank top at her ribs and, with a subtle but unmistakably intentional tug, closed the tiny fraction of space still left between them.

Sophia’s forehead slid against Daniela’s in a slow, sleepy movement until the tip of her nose brushed against the younger woman’s.

Daniela let out a shaky breath that landed directly against Sophia’s mouth. She closed her eyes. Her jaw locked.

Sophia tilted her face slightly and rubbed her nose gently against Daniela’s, back and forth.

It was innocent. But carried out with such thick tension that the air itself felt heavy.

The soft friction of skin.

Their breathing mixing together.

The scent of sweat and vanilla.

Sophia felt her spine melt.

The absolute care Daniela treated her with — the way she swallowed her own desire just to respect Sophia’s limits — shattered whatever resistance the leader still tried to hold upright.

There was no group anymore.

No show. No Coachella.

There were only the two of them in that dark hallway.

“Dani…” Sophia murmured softly, her lips brushing the warm skin of Daniela’s face with every syllable.

“Yeah?”

Sophia stopped the little nose nudge.

Her hands slid from Daniela’s waist, climbing her back to her broad shoulders until her fingers finally disappeared into the sweat damp curls at the back of Daniela’s neck.

She stopped thinking.

Sophia tilted her face and closed the distance.

The kiss wasn’t violent like the one in the studio hours earlier. It was surrender.

Sophia’s soft lips settled against Daniela’s with deliberate slowness, kissing her with the kind of hunger she’d been hiding for three years.

Daniela let out a muffled sound in her throat— something that sounded like relief.

Her hands tightened around Sophia and pulled her onto her lap until their bodies fit together with barely any space between them.

Daniela parted her lips instantly.

The kiss deepened.

Sophia shivered as Daniela’s hands left her lower back and moved to cradle her face, thumbs brushing along her cheekbones while she kissed her with a kind of overwhelming tenderness.

Sophia tilted her head back slightly.

The bus around them disappeared.

Sophia caught Daniela’s lower lip between her own for a brief second before pulling back. Her fingers tightened in Daniela’s curls.

Every second of it felt like a confession.

I don’t want to run anymore. I want you.

Heat built between them, almost feverish.

Daniela’s left hand slipped from Sophia’s face, moving down her neck and settling again at her waist, her fingers resting there gently.

The warmth of Daniela’s touch against her made Sophia lose her breath.

She broke the kiss softly.

Their foreheads pressed together again while both of them tried — not very successfully — to catch the oxygen they’d stolen from each other.

Daniela’s eyes were dark and bright.

Her breathing ghosted across Sophia’s swollen lips.

The smile she gave her wasn’t sharp. Just completely, helplessly in love.

“Fuck the distance rule,” Sophia whispered, voice rough and heavy, her fingers still tangled in Daniela’s hair, her face flushed with exhaustion and something deeper she’d stopped trying to deny.

Daniela smiled wider.

Her hands stayed at Sophia’s waist and back.

“I never liked it anyway,” Daniela murmured in the same quiet tone before leaning in and kissing her again.

The second kiss began differently.

There was no longer the desperation of panic, nor the sharp urgency of the dance studio. There was only complete surrender — the relieved realization that they didn’t have to keep running anymore.

Daniela’s lips took Sophia’s with a torturously slow pace, savoring every millimeter of contact. It was a deep, lingering kiss.

Her tongue exploring Sophia's mouth with a reverence that bordered on worship.

Sophia gave in instantly, her eyes squeezed shut, letting herself sink into the wave of warmth Daniela seemed to radiate.

In the tiny space of the corridor, gravity and desire conspired in their favor.

Sophia felt Daniela’s strong arms pulling her closer, and without thinking, she adjusted her body.

She slid her knees across the rough carpet, opening her legs just enough to fit Daniela’s hips between them, practically settling into the younger woman’s lap.

Daniela let out a low, muffled sound against Sophia’s mouth as their weight shifted, the vibration traveling straight into Sophia’s chest.

Daniela's hands, resting at Sophia’s waist, began to move.

Her long, steady fingers slipped fully beneath the thick fabric of Sophia’s cropped hoodie.

The contrast of Daniela’s warm skin against the freezing air of the bus sent a shiver across Sophia’s entire body.

Daniela traced the smooth plane of Sophia’s stomach with her thumbs before slowly moving her palms upward over her ribs, outlining every curve with a possessive tenderness, as though she were committing her body to memory.

Sophia’s breath caught.

Her lips parted with a soft, wet inhale, fingers buried in Daniela’s dark curls as she tightened her grip.

“Dani…” Sophia breathed, the whisper breaking through the silence of the bus.

“Let me take care of you,” Daniela murmured against her lips, her voice barely more than a rough brush of sound. “Let me take the control from you for a little while.”

Sophia didn’t have the strength to refuse. She didn’t want to. Three years of stolen looks and restrained touches were finally combusting.

The kiss returned, but the softness began to evaporate, replaced by something rawer.

Daniela tilted her head, changing the angle and deepening the kiss with a controlled intensity that made Sophia’s stomach tighten dangerously.

Daniela's tongue guided the rhythm while her warm hands left Sophia’s ribs and moved to her back, pressing along her spine and pulling her closer until their chests met.

The friction of Sophia’s hoodie against Daniela’s cotton tank top created an unbearable warmth.

Sophia released Daniela’s neck and dragged her hands down over the her broad shoulders, scratching lightly over the dark fabric until she found the bare skin of her arms.

Daniela’s muscles felt tense beneath her fingers, her whole body stretched to the edge of self control.

Daniela’s mouth left Sophia’s lips with a damp sound and moved downward.

She brushed her nose along Sophia’s golden jawline, breathing in deeply before pressing her mouth against the sensitive skin of her neck.

The warmth of her lips at the base of Sophia’s throat made her tip her head back instinctively, exposing the full length of her neck in an unconscious act of surrender.

Daniela didn’t rush. She kissed her slowly.

Her breathing was heavier now, warm against Sophia’s collarbone.

Her lips moved upward at an unhurried pace, leaving behind heat that made Sophia’s thoughts spin and erased every last trace of anxiety.

When Daniela’s teeth brushed lightly beneath her ear, Sophia let out a soft sound and her hips shifted involuntarily against Daniela’s thigh.

That seemed to flip a switch inside Daniela.

Her grip against Sophia’s back tightened immediately. She pulled Sophia closer and adjusted herself to meet the movement.

The patient tenderness was swallowed by something heavier and more physical.

Sophia moved her hands quickly down Daniela’s chest until she found the hem of the black tank top.

Without hesitation, she slipped her cold hands underneath and pressed her palms against the heat and tension beneath.

Daniela inhaled sharply at the direct contact, her body trembling beneath Sophia’s careful hands.

Their breathing turned uneven and heavy, echoing through the dim corridor.

The closeness of their bodies, the pressure of their legs fitting together, Daniela’s possessive hands against the exposed skin of Sophia’s back—

the line between comfort and desire had already disappeared.

The heat in the narrow bus corridor reached a breaking point. The floor space between the bunks suddenly felt too small, too restrictive.

Sophia’s hands moved warm beneath Daniela’s tank top, her short nails grazing the tense lines of her abdomen while her mouth answered every kiss with a hunger the filipina herself hadn’t known she carried.

Daniela let out a low, guttural growl, vibrating directly against Sophia’s mouth.

She slid her large hands down from the leader’s back, descending firmly until she grabbed the back of her thighs over her pants, squeezing the muscle with a possessiveness that made Sophia completely lose her grip on sanity.

Daniela’s hips pressed against Sophia’s with more force, the desperate friction tearing a long, high pitched moan from the older girl’s throat.

Sophia’s head fell back, her eyes closed, her parted lips dragging in the freezing air conditioned air while Daniela attacked her jawline with wet kisses and light bites, leaving her golden skin marked with red.

With a sharp intake of air, Daniela broke the contact with her neck. She planted her hands flat on the floor, one on each side of Sophia's hips, and lifted her face.

Daniela's breathing was heavy, her chest rising and falling frantically beneath her wrinkled tank top. Her dark eyes were dilated, blown black, pinned on Sophia’s flushed, completely surrendered face.

"Get up." Daniela’s voice was nothing more than a harsh, raspy whisper, heavy with a predatory authority that allowed no refusals.

Sophia blinked slowly, her mind fogged by lust. Her lips were swollen, slick with saliva, and her chest was heaving.

"Get up for me, Soph," Daniela repeated, her tone dropping a full octave, her dark eyes burning with desire.

Too weak to articulate a single word, Sophia obeyed.

She braced her trembling hands against the wooden frame of the bunks and pushed herself up. Her legs were so weak from adrenaline and sheer arousal that her knees buckled slightly as she stood, but Daniela was faster. She rose at the exact same moment in a fluid, lethal movement.

The second they were both on their feet in the tiny aisle, Daniela didn’t waste a millisecond. She took a step forward, completely invading Sophia’s space, and used her own body to push the leader backward.

Sophia’s back hit the smooth wooden wall dividing the bunk capsules with a muffled thud.

Before Sophia could even catch her breath from the impact, Daniela had her cornered. She slammed both palms flat against the wood, one on either side of Sophia’s head, pinning her.

Daniela’s firm, heavy body crushed the Filipina against the wall from chest to knees, leaving absolutely no room for escape.

And then, in a calculated move that made Sophia’s heart nearly stop, Daniela stepped her right leg forward. She slotted her own thick thigh right between Sophia’s legs, forcing the leader’s thighs to part slightly wider to accommodate the tense muscle, pressing directly against the center of her pants.

An audible gasp escaped Sophia’s lips. She threw her head back, thumping her nape against the wood, her nails digging desperately into the shoulders of the black jacket Daniela was still wearing.

"Dani... holy fuck..." The curse tore out of her, entirely unfiltered, Sophia’s hips instinctively chasing the friction against the Daniela's thigh.

Daniela flashed a lethal smile, her eyes gleaming with absolute control over the situation. She brought her face closer, her nose brushing against Sophia’s once more, but this time without any lethargic sweetness.

"I told you that when that rule was lifted, you wouldn't be the one in control," Daniela whispered against Sophia’s trembling lips, her hot, panting breath mixing with hers.

Daniela’s right hand dropped from the wall.

Her fingers trailed down the side of Sophia’s body, dragging over her ribs, tracing the curve of her hip, until they hooked forcefully into the waistband of the leader’s pants.

Daniela gripped the fabric, pulling Sophia’s hips violently forward against her own thigh, while her other hand flew to the back of the leader's neck, roughly grabbing her ponytail to tilt her face up.

Daniela took Sophia’s mouth again, and this time, not a single trace of hesitation remained.

The kiss was brutal, hot, and devouring—an electric shock that set the inside of that bus on fire and obliterated any thought of tomorrow.

Sophia’s hands, which had been scratching Daniela’s back, slid feverishly around to the front. The leader's slender fingers grabbed the lapels of the black jacket the Latina was still wearing.

With a panting, desperate yank, Sophia shoved the thick fabric down the younger girl's broad shoulders. The heavy material dropped to the floor with a dull thud, leaving Daniela in only her black tank top, her tanned, tense arms finally exposed to the biting air conditioning.

Taking advantage of Sophia's movement, Daniela broke the connection of their mouths with a wet smack, both of their breaths coming out in short, synchronized pants.

Her hot, wet lips began to trace a path of fire down Sophia’s golden jawline. Daniela kissed the line of her neck, tearing a long moan from the leader, and kept going lower. Her mouth brushed over the fabric of the gray cropped hoodie until it found the bare, burning strip of skin at Sophia's stomach.

Sophia threw the back of her head against the wooden wall, squeezing her eyes shut. Her hands flew instinctively to Daniela’s dark curls, her fingers tangling deep into the soft strands.

Daniela left a lingering, possessive kiss just above Sophia’s navel, her hot tongue rasping against the sensitive skin and making the older girl's abdomen contract violently. Slowly, in a lethargic and calculated movement, Daniela bent her legs.

The friction of Daniela's knees sinking into the carpet sounded loud in the dimness of the bus. She knelt on the narrow floor, slotting herself perfectly between Sophia’s parted legs.

The change in height altered the gravity of the room completely. The air seemed to vanish from Sophia’s lungs. She opened her heavy eyes and looked down.

Daniela was kneeling at her feet. The faint, bluish light from the LED strips in the aisle illuminated the strong features of her face.

Slowly, Daniela lifted her head. Her deep, dark eyes met Sophia’s ones across the space.

The sight was a brutal blow to her self control. There was an undeniable physical submission in Daniela’s position, but the predatory intensity in her gaze screamed the exact opposite: she held absolute dominion.

Seeing the woman she had been secretly in love with for three years kneeling between her legs made Sophia’s arousal triple — a wave of heat so intense that she felt her own legs shake, one step away from giving out completely.

Reading the euphoria and surrender on the leader’s face perfectly, Daniela’s lips curved into a slow smile. A smile heavy with adoration and malice.

Without breaking eye contact for a single fraction of a second, Daniela raised both hands. Her long, firm fingers hooked onto the sides of the thick waistband of the black pants, looping the sheer fabric of Sophia’s panties along with it.

With a firm and unbearably slow motion, keeping her eyes locked on the leader's, Daniela pulled the fabric down, sliding it over Sophia’s thick thighs.

The thick material of her pants and the delicate lace of her panties glided down Sophia’s golden, trembling thighs, falling until they pooled into a dark heap around her sneakers.

The biting air-conditioning of the bus hit the leader’s bare skin directly, raising goosebumps on her arms, but the center of her body was a furnace.

Sophia’s pussy radiated a feverish heat, slick and heavy. Daniela didn’t look away for a single split second. Resting on her knees on the rough carpet, she planted her large, firm hands flat on the insides of Sophia’s thighs.

Her tanned thumbs sank into the soft flesh with a brutal, authoritative pressure, forcing the woman’s legs wide open.

Sophia had no strength to resist; her knees gave out to the sides, spreading her legs wide open and leaving her absolutely vulnerable, pinned up against the wooden wall of the bunk.

The intoxicating scent of female arousal and sweat swallowed up the little oxygen left in the aisle.

The bluish light from the LED strip bathed the Sophia's pussy. The fleshy vaginal lips were darkened, absurdly swollen with engorged blood, gleaming intensely in the dimness from the obscene amount of slick that was already overflowing from her entrance and trailing in a thick string down her perineum.

For Daniela, that sight was the collapse of three years of sanity.

The arousal that exploded in her chest was violent. It had been three years of swallowing hard, three years of smelling that woman in the dressing rooms, three years of fantasizing about exactly this: Sophia submissive, panting, and dripping solely for her.

Daniela’s blood boiled with such force that her own pelvis gave an involuntary jerk against her heels. The girl’s pussy throbbed, feverish and soaked, hot slick running down her own thigh beneath her pants while the absolute thrill of finally dominating the leader of the group fried her veins.

"Look at you..." Daniela whispered. Her voice came out thick, low, scratching her throat and echoing like a dirty growl in the silence of the bus.

She lifted her face just enough to pin her dark eyes on Sophia’s.

"The untouchable leader. The woman who controls everything with an iron fist... shaking like a whore, breathing all torn up, and dripping wet for me."

Sophia whimpered, a high, reedy, uncontrollable sound. Her neck rolled back, her nape hitting the smooth wood. Her fingers squeezed Daniela’s dark curls with a blind, needy desperation.

"Dani... please... don't talk, just fuck me..."

Sophia panted, her voice cracking, trembling, and heavy with a sickening need. Her hips gave an instinctive jerk forward, blindly chasing the girl’s mouth.

"You're soaked, Soph. Completely melting. Dripping wet," Daniela continued, her filthy malice overflowing.

Daniela raised her right hand. With a calculated slowness, she traced the gaping slit. Daniela’s thumb dragged up her wet lips in a firm, rough stroke, prying her burning pussy even wider and catching a thick string of slick.

Without breaking eye contact with the leader, Daniela brought her coated finger to her own mouth, sucking it in a slow, pornographic rhythm. The obscene pop of her tongue cleaning her finger echoed loudly.

"Your slick is so sweet, Soph... and it’s so thick I can feel the weight of it on my tongue,"
Daniela whispered, her accent chewed up and vulgar, wetting her own lips. "Do you want me to swallow it all? Do you want me to suck this pussy dry with my mouth?"

"I want... ah... fuck, I want it, Daniela... just do it!" Sophia’s answer was a torn sob, her mind completely crushed by the raw filth of her words.

Daniela didn't make her wait another millisecond. The girl opened her mouth and buried her face violently into Sophia's drenched pussy.

Daniela’s broad tongue breached her slippery entrance in one dense thrust. Sophia felt the world spin. The moan the leader let out was a sharp yelp, a strangled, purely whiny cry that died at the base of her throat.

Sophia's hips jolted heavily forward, slamming her own pelvic bone against Daniela's jaw.

Daniela devoured her with a maddened hunger. Her mouth latched onto the plump lips of Sophia’s pussy, pulling the flesh outward while her tongue invaded and explored the entrance of her canal, drinking her slick straight from the source.

Sophia felt every nerve in her own body combust. Every heavy lap of Daniela’s tongue sent agonizing shocks of pleasure down her spine.

Daniela’s tongue moved up in a continuous, wet trail, finding her hard, swollen clit. She started to lap at the nerve bundle without an ounce of mercy, in a rough, rapid friction.
Then, Daniela sealed her lips around the clit and created a popping vacuum, sucking on the throbbing flesh with merciless force.

The collateral effect was lethal for Daniela herself. With every violent suck, with every wet pop, the girl's body reacted. The musky, strong, sweet taste of Sophia’s slick flooding her palate left the Latina intoxicated. Daniela moaned around a mouthful right against her clit, the guttural, raspy sound vibrating straight into the leader’s hyper stimulated pussy.

Sophia’s legs were shaking so hard she could barely hold herself up. Her toned abdomen cramped uncontrollably, her vision blacking out and returning in flashes of blue light.

She whimpered loudly, her neck strained, the back of her head thudding repeatedly against the bunk's wood. Her nails dug into Daniela’s shoulders, scratching her skin right through the black tank top without gauging her own strength. Her hips arched forward, bucking in blind, desperate thrusts against Daniela's face, wanting to drown her mouth in her own pussy.

"Mhnn... ah, Dani! Yes... suck it... eat me out..."

Sophia panted open mouthed, her entire body arching against the wood. She whimpered softly, an agonizing sound of pure submission, while her hands tugged at Daniela's hair.

Daniela drank the bursts of slick that Sophia gushed with every brutal suck. Her face was messy, smeared with juices, shining intensely. She broke the vacuum of her mouth for a second, her lips popping.

"You're soaking me completely..." Daniela growled against the wet pussy, her voice raspy and guttural.

She released her right hand from the leader’s thigh and coated it in her own saliva mixed with the thick slick.

Without any warning, Daniela slammed her index and middle fingers in, tearing into Sophia’s tight pussy all at once.

Her fingers sank in with a dull, dense thud, until the base of her hand slammed with brutal force against Sophia's pelvic bone.

Sophia moaned loudly, a strangled sound. The shock of being filled so aggressively made her burning pussy swallow Daniela's fingers in an absolute spasm. Her body clamped down hysterically, crushing and sucking at Daniela’s bones.

The brutal squeeze tore a panting gasp from Daniela herself. She squeezed her eyes shut, her teeth biting lightly into her own lip for a millisecond at the sheer shock of finally being inside that woman.

Daniela started fucking the leader on the inside while eating her out on the outside.

The visceral sound of her fingers fucking the drenched flesh mingled with the wet pops of her mouth sucking the clit. Daniela pumped her fingers violently, curling the tips inside to drag and scrape roughly against her G spot. She would pull her hand almost entirely out before shoving it right back in with a continuous, chaotic punch.

With a desperate whimper, Sophia lifted her right leg and threw it entirely over Daniela’s broad shoulder, hooking her bare calf over the girl's back.

Sophia’s completely vulgar, submissive action made Daniela lose her mind.

Daniela grabbed the back of the leader's knee with her left hand, locking her leg in place on her shoulder. The angle pulled Sophia’s hips forward and up, spreading her pussy open in a vulgar and perfect way. Her slippery entrance and hard clit were smashed directly against Daniela’s thirsty mouth and tireless hand.

Daniela stopped her lips mere millimeters from the exposed flesh.

"That's it... open this pussy up for me, Soph."

She curled her fingers inside with a sadistic jerk, fucking her hard, which tore a long, wet yelp from Sophia.

"Fuck me... Dani... ah!" Sophia sobbed in agony, rolling her head against the wood, completely overtaken by the pleasurable pain of the friction.

"Don't stop... fuck!"

"Then cry for me!"

Daniela shoved a third finger in, tearing into Sophia's wet hole all at once. The triple invasion stretched Sophia's pussy, pushing the flesh to its absolute limit and tearing a loud, choked moan from her throat.

"Fuck my fingers! Squeeze my hand with that soaked pussy, Sophia"

Daniela ordered roughly, accelerating the pace to a bruising, cruel rhythm.

The arousal was unbearable. Daniela's pants were wet with her own slick, her clit throbbing to the point of pain with every punch she delivered inside Sophia.

Unable to endure the empty friction against her own heel any longer, the Latina made a purely selfish and visceral decision.

She released Sophia's leg from her shoulder, letting the woman's heavy, limp thigh fall around her neck.

Daniela's free hand dragged frantically down her own abdomen, slipping inside her pants. Her pussy was so drenched that her fingers slid inside without any resistance.

Daniela moaned against Sophia's core the exact second she sank two fingers into her own tight pussy.

The sensory combo was perfect.

Daniela's mouth sucked Sophia in a heavy vacuum that drew tears from the leader. Her right hand fucked the leader with sadistic violence. And her left hand fucked herself to the exact same killer rhythm.

Daniela moaned loudly, a dirty, mouth full sound that mingled with Sophia's uncontrolled sobs.

Daniela pumped her fingers into her own pussy, rubbing her own clit with her left thumb while thrusting into the leader with her right hand, perfectly synchronizing her movements.

The friction of her clit being massacred in the vacuum, combined with the three thick fingers punching into her pussy to the hilt, made Sophia's burning juices gush and splatter onto her own legs and the floor.

The thick, loud slap of the base of Daniela's hand slamming repeatedly against Sophia's soaked pussy sounded like gunshots in the aisle of the bus.

Daniela pushed herself to the edge of the precipice alongside Sophia, her breathing wrecked, her body trembling from head to toe.

Daniela's pussy throbbed with a painful intensity, her climax crawling up her spine, wanting to explode at the exact same time she felt Sophia's womb begin to give the first dry, stuttering jerks of her orgasm.

The sensory overload dragged Sophia over the edge. The air vanished. Blood pounded in her ears.

"Come, Soph. Cum in my mouth..."

Daniela whispered in a choked, guttural tone against Sophia's pussy, swallowing the first sweet, thin streams that were already starting to squirt.

Sophia's golden body tensed entirely like a steel wire. The muscle of the leg resting on Daniela's shoulder squeezed the girl's neck.

Sophia's heel thumped involuntarily against Daniela's back.

The orgasm shattered the leader. Sophia's flat stomach contracted in rapid, strong, blind punches. Her pelvis gave heavy, dry jerks, tipping her hips up and crushing her gushing pussy against Daniela's filthy face.

Her burning, absurdly tight pussy crushed the girl's three fingers in violent spasms, a vacuum of wet flesh that simply clamped down and locked Daniela's fingers inside.

The hot juices flooded Daniela's mouth, sliding down her throat in rapid gulps, soaking her entire hand, spreading over her fingers, her wrists, and running down her forearm in a brutal emptying.

Sophia couldn't even scream; she merely whimpered in a high, long, needy wail, her eyes rolling back, crying silent tears of pure electrical overload while her entire body went into violent convulsions.

Daniela kept her hand buried to the hilt and her mouth locked in the vacuum, sucking the hyper stimulated clit.

Daniela drank Sophia's slick down to the very last drop, as if she were dying of thirst in a desert. She sucked out every crazed spasm, curling her three fingers to relentlessly fuck her G spot inside, swallowing Sophia's orgasm by force.

Daniela forced the leader's clit to keep taking the heavy, wet friction until Sophia's pussy began to pulse with pleasurable pain, unable to endure a single millisecond more of stimulation.

Sophia's thigh slid off Daniela's shoulder and fell heavily to the floor. She was exhausted, her entire body melting against the wood of the bunk, her wrecked breaths escaping through her parted mouth. She writhed weakly, trying to pull away from Daniela's mouth, whose vacuum was now pure torture on her hypersensitive flesh.

She tried to drag in air, blinking slowly to manage to focus her vision.

Then, she heard the noise.

It was a continuous squelch, rapid and absurdly wet, accompanied by a dragged out, filthy moan that wasn't coming from the leader's throat. The sound vibrated directly against Sophia's pussy.

Daniela was masturbating.

Her wrist was moving at a frantic pace beneath the dark fabric, rubbing her own drenched pussy right through her panties. She moaned raggedly, her eyes closed, completely blinded by lust as she swallowed Sophia's juices.

She was right on the edge, her hips giving dry jerks against her own heels, nearly coming right then and there, alone on the floor.

Sophia's exhaustion vanished in the exact same second.

With a swift movement, Sophia reached out and grabbed the Daniela's left wrist, halting the friction.

The abrupt cutoff made Daniela choke, her chest heaving with a desperate gasp for air.

The vacuum of her mouth on the leader's clit broke with a deafening, wet pop. Daniela threw her head back; her face was filthy, gleaming with saliva and slick, her dark eyes wide and clouded with lust.

"Soph... ah, no... stop... I need..."

Sophia's gaze overflowed with raw devotion. She squeezed the girl's hand firmly and pulled.

"Get up. Get off the floor, Dani. Come here to me."

Daniela let go of her pants, braced her hand against the wooden frame of the bed, and slowly stood up. Her legs trembled slightly as she planted her feet on the floor.

The space in the aisle was tiny, their bodies mere inches apart. Before Daniela could breathe or say a single thing, Sophia lunged.

The Filipina grabbed the girl's black tank top and shoved her backward. Daniela's back hit the wooden wall with a muffled smack. Sophia pressed her body flush against hers and attacked the Daniela's mouth.

The kiss was brutal, devoid of any trace of romance. Their tongues clashed, and Sophia tasted her own juices in Daniela's mouth—sweet, musky, and strong. She bit down on the Daniela's lower lip, sucking the sensitive skin hard, while her right hand slid straight down to her waist.

Sophia had no patience for undoing buttons or zippers. She shoved her hand inside the elastic waistband of Daniela's baggy pants, sinking her fingers straight into her cotton panties.

The fabric was soaked. Heavy. Hot. Completely plastered to Daniela's skin.

Sophia yanked the side of the panties down with a violent pull, baring Daniela's pussy all at once.

The heat that radiated from her core was absurd. Daniela's slit was gaping, her plump lips throbbing, pouring out a slick so thick and abundant that it drenched Sophia's fingers the exact second she touched the flesh.

"Fuck, Daniela..." Sophia whispered, panting.

She broke the kiss with a pop to drop her face.

Sophia sank her teeth into the sweaty skin of Daniela's neck, right beneath her jaw, and sucked fiercely, leaving an instant red mark.

Daniela moaned loudly, the back of her head thumping against the wood.

Sophia pressed her index and middle fingers together and shoved them in with everything she had, tearing into the wet pussy and sinking into Daniela with a dense, heavy thrust.

"Ah! Fuck, Sophia!" Daniela cried out a muffled scream, her nails digging into Sophia's bare shoulders.

Daniela's pussy burned. The tight canal sucked down on Sophia's fingers with absurd force.

She started truly fucking Daniela. The leader's arm pumped in a bruising rhythm.

She pulled her fingers almost entirely out, dragging the thick juices with them, and punched them right back in until the base of her hand slammed hard against Daniela's groin.

The slap of flesh hitting flesh rang loud in the aisle, mingled with the wet sound of Daniela's pussy being ruthlessly ravaged.

"Look how tight you are for me, Dani" Sophia said right by her ear, her breath hitting Daniela's goosebump covered skin hot.

She curled her knuckles inside, scraping against her G spot.

Daniela sobbed. The girl's hips started to roll against Sophia's hand, riding her fingers at a frantic pace. Daniela lost any shred of control over her own legs, her entire body operating purely on instinct.

"Fuck me... fuck, Sophia, fuck me harder!"
Daniela begged, her voice cracking, tearful.
Her body rigid with tension, her head thrown back.

"I am fucking you. My whole hand is inside you."

The leader's free hand slid up to Daniela's neck. She gripped the girl's throat with moderate force, her thumb pressing against her clenched jaw.

The dominance was absolute.

Sophia sped up her right hand. Her fingers slid in and out, churning the slick, spreading the wetness down Daniela's legs.

"Go on. Cum for me, Dani."

The rapid stimulation on her G spot, the grip on her neck, and the pressure of the fingers plunging in and out shattered Daniela's resistance. Her entire body went taut like a bow. Her teeth clenched.

Daniela's pussy contracted in a crushing vacuum, squeezing down on Sophia's fingers with an absurd force that almost hurt the leader's hand. She gushed. Hot, thick streams of cum flooded Sophia's hand, coating her fingers, soaking her wrist, and running straight down her forearm.

Daniela let out a long, ragged moan. She was trembling from head to toe, her abdominal muscles jerking involuntarily as the electricity of her climax fried her nerves. The girl's knees gave out completely, her body sliding down the wall.

But Sophia held her up.

The leader dug her left hand into Daniela's waist, crushing the girl's limp body against the wood of the bunk, and she didn't stop her right hand.

Sophia kept pumping her fingers into the clenched, soaked pussy, milking the spasms and dragging every last drop out of her, while taking Daniela's mouth once again, swallowing her broken, aching moans in a filthy, wet kiss.

When they were both finally out of breath, Sophia broke the contact with a wet pop, her chest rising and falling heavily.

Sophia let her head drop forward, resting her forehead against Daniela's. The air in the narrow space was dense, heavy, saturated with the smell of sweat, of sex, and with the musky taste they now shared in their mouths.

Sophia's hands slid slowly over Daniela's broad shoulders in a lethargic caress, while her arms remained firm around her waist.

Daniela closed her eyes, releasing all her weight against Sophia's body. A loose, genuine smile, heavy with the relief of three long years of waiting, curved the corners of the dancer's swollen lips.

"Fucking finally..." Daniela murmured. Her voice came out thick, scratched at the back of her throat, vibrating with raw satisfaction right against Sophia's face.

Sophia let out a weak, breathless laugh. She slowly opened her dark eyes, blinking a few times to focus her vision in the dim light of the aisle. The bluish glow from the LED strips on the floor illuminated the face of the woman in front of her.

The sight was a direct hit to Sophia's ego.

Daniela's tanned face was filthy. Her mouth, chin, and cheeks were gleaming intensely, completely smeared with Sophia's abundant juices that she had swallowed with such hunger minutes ago. A few dark curls clung to her sweaty forehead and the side of her wet face.

Daniela looked exhausted and stupidly surrendered.

The leader's composed and perfectly polished posture vanished. Sophia's smile took on a sharp, lethal, and purely malicious edge.

She raised her right hand, sliding her thumb with extreme slowness over Daniela's dirty cheek, gathering a bit of the thick wetness on the tip of her finger.

"You have no idea what your face looks like right now..." Sophia whispered, her velvety voice dropping into a dirty, obscene flirtation.

Daniela opened her dark eyes, her pupils still so blown that they swallowed almost her entire iris. She didn't flinch from the touch. On the contrary, she leaned her cheek into the Sophia's hand with pure adoration.

"How do I look?" Daniela teased back, her breath hitting Sophia's wrist hot.

"Wrecked," Sophia replied. She rubbed her coated thumb over Daniela's lower lip, spreading her own slick even further. "You're covered in me, Dani. Your mouth, your chin... there's my cum shining all over your face."

Daniela's body reacted instantly to the leader's vulgarity, her hips giving an instinctive jerk forward, lightly bumping against Sophia's. She purposely wet her lips, the tip of her tongue scraping against Sophia's thumb, tasting what was left there.

"You look so beautiful like this, it's actually absurd," Sophia smirked, her eyes locked on Daniela's. "Seriously. I should take a picture of your face right now."

"What for?" Daniela laughed softly, a husky, muffled sound.

"Just so I could set it as my wallpaper," Sophia whispered, brushing her nose against the girl's. "So I can look at your filthy, glowing face every time you try to give me a choreography order in the middle of the studio."

Daniela let out a ragged laugh, the delicious vibration shaking their two bodies pressed together in the aisle. She tightened her grip on Sophia’s waist, crushing the leader against the wooden wall firmly.

“Take it then” Daniela challenged, her slurred, mocking accent returning in full force, her eyes gleaming back with the same malice.

“Take the photo, Soph. But I doubt you’ll be able to look at it in the middle of a rehearsal without soaking your panties completely.”

Sophia’s laugh was short, a breathless sound heavy with arrogance. The challenge shining in Daniela’s dark, dilated eyes was exactly the gasoline she needed.

“You think I’m bluffing?” Sophia whispered, her eyebrow arching mockingly.

She broke the embrace, taking only half a step back. The sudden loss of Daniela's body heat made the bare skin of Sophia’s legs instantly prickle under the freezing blast of the air conditioning.

Without tearing her eyes from Daniela’s filthy face, the leader leaned down slightly, groping for the thick fabric of the pants that remained bunched around her ankles on the aisle floor.

Her slender fingers found the phone in the side pocket. Sophia pulled the device out, straightened her posture, and tapped the screen.

The sudden white glow of the display tore through the aisle’s dimness, cutting through the bluish light of the LED strips and illuminating both exhausted bodies with an almost aggressive clarity.

Daniela didn’t shrink away from the light. Quite the contrary.

She leaned her shoulder against the wooden bunk wall, relaxing her posture. She crossed her arms loosely beneath her breasts, her chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Daniela lifted her chin, offering her face to the camera with an obscene, proud submission.

The glow of the phone screen reflected directly onto her tanned skin, highlighting the thick, shining trail of cum that covered her swollen lips, ran down her chin, and stained her cheek. Her dark eyes stared into the device’s lens with a heavy lethargy, the expression of someone who had just been completely destroyed and was ready for a repeat.

Sophia opened the camera. Her heart took a violent leap against her ribs when she saw the framing on the screen.

The image had no filter, no production, and absolutely no idol posing. It was pornographic and intimate to a level that made her stomach turn in a dangerous lurch. The center of her body, which had been beginning to calm down, throbbed hotly and involuntarily.

The sound of the digital click echoed dryly in the silent aisle.

Sophia lowered the device slowly, her gray eyes locked on the frozen screen, absorbing every pixel of the damage she had just inflicted on the most confident woman she knew.

“Well?” Daniela provoked, her voice raspy, scratching the silence, a cynical smile stretching her smeared lips. “Good enough to use as your wallpaper?”

Sophia locked the screen with a click, the light vanishing and returning the aisle to the dim blue half light. She shoved the phone back into her hoodie pocket, her breathing becoming shallow again.

Daniela was right.

If she looked at that photo in the middle of a soundcheck, there wouldn’t be enough concentration in the world to hold her together.

“The photo is perfect,” Sophia admitted, her voice coming out a little shakier than she would have liked.

She took a step forward, invading Daniela’s space again, and gripped the girl’s jaw with her free hand, her thumb brushing dangerously close to the filth on her chin.

"And it’s the hottest sight I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Daniela laughed, the sound vibrating straight into the leader’s palm. The provocation had worked, but the physical exhaustion of the double orgasm was beginning to weigh on their shoulders.

Daniela's knees gave a slight buckle, her body swaying subtly forward, seeking Sophia’s support by instinct.

“Okay. You win. I surrender,” Daniela murmured, her playful tone melting into lethargic fatigue.

She rested her forehead on Sophia's shoulder, breathing in her scent deeply.

“But, seriously now… we need to clean up and lie down. My legs can’t handle my own weight anymore.”

The admission of weakness stripped every trace of malice from Sophia’s face. The posture of the careful leader, who never truly disappeared, took control.

“I know. Come here,” Sophia replied, her voice turning velvety and gentle again.

She wrapped her arm around Daniela’s waist, supporting the girl’s heavy body. With her other hand, she groped the floor and pulled up her own pants and panties in one motion, dressing quickly and awkwardly, not caring about fastening the button.

“There are wet wipes in my backpack, in the bed drawer,” Sophia guided, adjusting their short, shuffling steps. “We’ll clean your face.”

Sophia guided Daniela across the few inches of carpet that separated them from the leader’s bunk. When they reached the capsule with the adhesive tape bearing Sophia’s name stuck to the edge, the Filipina pulled the thick black curtain back with her free hand.

Daniela didn’t wait for an invitation.

She slipped into the confined space and simply collapsed backward onto the soft mattress, letting out a long, dragged out moan of pure relief as her back finally met a surface that wasn’t the hard wood of the wall.

Sophia climbed in right after, crawling through the cramped space.

The capsule was tiny, designed strictly for an individual’s rest, but the cramped quarters were the least of their worries now.

Sophia settled onto her knees beside Daniela’s hip.

The yellowish light from the small reading lamp on the ceiling of the bunk was set to the dimmest level, casting warm shadows over the dancer’s face.

Daniela’s chest rose and fell in a heavy, lethargic rhythm, her dark eyes already half closed, fighting against the weight of her lids.

Without haste, Sophia stretched her arm out and opened the small fabric drawer built into the bed wall. The rustle of plastic cut through the silence as she pulled out a pack of wet wipes.

She pulled out a sheet, the clean, fresh scent of aloe vera instantly flooding the enclosed space, contrasting sharply with the dense, sweaty smell of sex that still exuded from both of them.

Sophia put the pack away and turned her attention back to Daniela.

With her left hand, the leader held Daniela's chin with absolute tenderness, her thumb resting lightly on the line of her tanned jaw. With her right hand, she brought the cold, damp wipe up to the girl’s cheek.

The thermal shock made Daniela give a slight start, her eyes opening for a fraction of a second.

“Ow, it’s cold…” Daniela grumbled in a raspy whisper, her voice chewed up by exhaustion, trying to turn her face away from Sophia's hand.

“Stay still. Let me take care of you,” Sophia requested, her tone so velvety and gentle that it acted like a spell.

Daniela relaxed her shoulders instantly. She let out a heavy breath through her nose and closed her eyes again, surrendering her weight completely into the leader’s hands.

Sophia began to clean Daniela’s face.

The movements were lingering, continuous, and heavy with an almost religious devotion.

She passed the damp tissue over her marked chin, collecting the thick cum that had dried on Daniela's skin. She cleaned the curve of her jaw, her cheeks, and finally, she traced her mouth with care so as not to hurt the lips that were already dangerously red and swollen from oral sex.

With every stroke of the wipe against Daniela's skin, Sophia’s mind processed the magnitude of what had just happened.

She stared at Daniela’s features relaxed under her touch. Her dark lashes resting on her cheeks, her breath hitting her wrist hot.

For three long years, Sophia had built reinforced concrete walls around herself. She had swallowed her jealousy, buried the urge to cross the line in hotel rooms, pretended that the lingering looks during rehearsals meant nothing, and assumed the role of the untouchable leader to protect Katseye.

And all of it had crumbled in a matter of thirty minutes on the rough floor of a tour bus, beneath that girl’s mouth.

The realization finally hit, not as a shock, but as a wave of overwhelming peace.

They had fucked.

And it hadn’t just been a release of pre show tension; it had been the most absolute surrender of Sophia’s life.

She ran her bare thumb, without the wipe, over Daniela’s now clean cheekbone. Her skin was fresh again.

“Done,” Sophia murmured softly.

She dropped the dirty wipe in some random corner of the bunk and didn’t pull back.

The weight on Sophia’s chest vanished, replaced by a love so dense that her throat actually ached. She leaned forward, supporting her own body weight on her elbow, and placed a soft, chaste, and lingering kiss on Daniela’s forehead.

“Thank you,” Daniela whispered with her eyes closed, her voice almost inaudible, the girl’s hand groping blindly on the mattress until it found Sophia’s thigh and rested there in a lazy, possessive grip.

“Come here,” Sophia called, shifting her own body.

She lay on her side, squeezing her back against the cold wall at the back of the bunk to open up as much space as possible. She pulled the edge of the thin blanket that was folded at the foot of the bed.

Sophia tried to pull the Latina closer by the arm, adjusting her own body to snuggle in, but Daniela locked her elbows on the mattress, resisting the pull with a weak laugh.

“Hey, hold on,” Daniela murmured, her voice raspy and chewed up by exhaustion.

She held Sophia’s wrist delicately, stopping the leader from shrinking against the wall.

“I was the one who said I was going to take care of you. Lie down right here.”

Daniela's intention was obvious: to pull Sophia into her own arms and let her be the little spoon, protecting her from the outside world. But Sophia shook her head slightly against the pillow.

“I don’t want to turn my back to you,” Sophia replied, her voice velvety and stubborn. She slipped her wrist from Daniela’s loose grip and flattened her hand against the younger girl’s chest. “I want to keep looking at your face.”

The argument melted any ounce of resistance Daniela had left.

She gave a lazy smile, the kind that crinkled the corners of her dark eyes, and gave in. She settled on her side on the soft mattress, squeezing herself into the tiny space until she was exactly in front of Sophia, face to face.

The space was so narrow that the position forced their bodies to press entirely flush against each other. Daniela’s legs tangled with the Sophia's beneath the thin fabric, slotting together naturally.

The freezing air conditioning vanished as soon as Sophia covered them both with the blanket, creating a warm, isolated dome away from all the stress that existed right outside that curtain.

The distance between their faces was mere millimeters.

The clean scent of aloe vera from the wet wipe mingled with the citrus perfume and the sweat that still clung to Daniela’s skin.

Without any rush, the Latina raised her hand and began to lethargically pet Sophia’s hair. Her long fingers untangled the straight strands with a silent, numbing devotion.

Sophia sighed softly, her dark eyes focused on every tiny detail of the face in front of her.

She lifted her own hand, sliding the tip of her index finger along the arch of Daniela’s eyebrow, trailing slowly down the bridge of her nose until she rested her palm on the soft, tanned cheek.

Daniela closed the little distance that remained and brushed the tip of her nose against Sophia’s.

The caress was drawn out and tender, a slow nuzzle they shared in the silence of the capsule. Sophia closed her eyes, absorbing the texture of the girl’s skin and the hot breath hitting her chin, and tilted her face just enough to steal a quick kiss.

Their lips met in a soft, dry smack. Daniela smiled against the leader’s mouth and returned it with another peck. Then another.

They were short, lazy kisses, completely devoid of the urgency or the filth from minutes ago.

It was just the pure pleasure of being able to touch the woman she loved without having to constantly weigh the consequences, the stares of others, or the burden it would bring to the group.

Their breathing finally found a steady, heavy rhythm.

Daniela swallowed hard, adjusting her own shoulder on the narrow mattress.

She brushed the tip of her nose against Sophia’s, her sweat slicked bangs brushing the older girl’s forehead, and broke the silence with the gentlest voice she could muster.

“Are you really okay?” Daniela asked, her dark gaze, still dilated, mapping every millimeter of the leader’s face in the dim light.

“The crisis… the panic from earlier. Is it really gone?”

Sophia opened her eyes slowly. Her dark irises, which an hour ago in the desert had overflowed with a blind terror bordering on despair, now reflected only a peaceful exhaustion.

And a spark of malice she rarely let slip in front of other people. She let out a weak laugh, the sound vibrating straight into Daniela’s chest, and slid her free hand down the side of the girl’s neck.

“After the way you ate me out in this aisle?”

Sophia teased, her tone velvety and full of mockery, her thumb stroking Daniela’s jawline roughly.

“How could I not be okay, Dani? You forcefully rebooted my brain. I swear I even forgot my own name pinned against that wall, let alone the existence of the Coachella stage.”

The smile that broke across Daniela’s face was instantaneous. Her ego was stroked in the rawest way possible. She gave a breathy laugh, squeezing Sophia’s waist beneath the blanket in a possessive tug, pressing their hips even closer together.

“I don’t know about forgetting your name, but I thought you were going to scream mine loud enough to catch the attention of the entire desert,” Daniela shot back, her voice drawling, leaving a smacking peck on the tip of the leader’s nose.

“Lucky for us everyone’s busy, because you weren’t making much of an effort to stay quiet.”

“That was entirely your fault. I had absolutely no control over the situation,” Sophia retorted, smiling against the girl’s mouth before pressing a quick kiss to her swollen lips.

Daniela sighed, her smile slowly fading until it gave way to an expression full of tranquil affection. Her tone lost its malice.

“I’m glad the treatment worked,” she murmured, her long leg tangling more firmly with Sophia’s beneath the fabric, feeling the hot skin brushing against hers.

She stayed silent for a few seconds, her thumb smoothing over Sophia's hip bone, before letting out a heavy breath.

“We are such idiots…”

“Why do you say that?”

“Three years, Sophia. Three years,” Daniela repeated, furrowing her brow in a mix of disbelief and humor.

“We traveled the whole world. Shared hotel rooms, shared dressing rooms the size of a shoebox, shared the same couch in the dance studio at three in the morning. We spent three whole years staring at each other with lust and pretending it was nothing.”

Sophia sighed, a smirk betraying her own guilt.

Her fingers trailed down from Daniela’s neck to grope the hem of the girl’s black tank top.

She slipped her hand underneath the cotton fabric, just to feel the texture of the skin on her stomach. The bare touch made Daniela’s breath hitch.

“Do you remember that hotel in London? When the heater broke and we had to share the same twin bed because I was freezing?” Daniela continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“I remember. You slept with your back to me, facing the wall the whole night, like I had a contagious disease.” Sophia laughed.

“I slept with my back to you because if I turned around, I’d feel your chest against mine, and I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions,” Daniela confessed, the raw honesty scraping through the silence of the capsule.

“I spent the entire night listening to you breathe, practically tearing my own hair out wanting to climb on top of you and kiss you.”

Sophia’s smile faltered, giving way to immediate empathy. She pulled her body closer, closing the nonexistent distance.

“I was terrified, Dani. You know… Katseye was a minefield in the beginning. One false step and everyone’s dynamic would go to shit. I thought if we crossed the line and it didn’t work out, the atmosphere in the group would be unbearable. I was panicked about losing you and fucking up the girls’ friendship all at once.”

“And you thought swallowing what you felt was going to be easier than risking it?” Daniela questioned softly, her hand pausing its petting for a second to caress Sophia’s cheek.

Sophia closed her eyes as she felt the girl’s thumb on her skin. She turned her face subtly and kissed the palm of Daniela’s hand, lingering her lips there with a silent, palpable adoration.

“I thought it was the right thing to do as the leader...” Sophia replied, opening her eyes again, sincerity overflowing from every syllable.

“But, being very, very honest… if I had known reality was going to be like this, I would have thrown my self control in the trash the day after London.”

Daniela’s petting stopped. She blinked slowly, her brain processing the confession with a lazy sluggishness.

“Like this how?” Daniela prompted, her voice dropping a full octave, her face drawing even closer until their noses touched again.

“If I had known it was going to be infinitely better than the things I spent nights imagining in my head, in the dark of my room,” Sophia revealed, her thumb going back to smoothing the dancer’s toned abdomen in a steady rhythm, completely distracted by the contact.

Daniela’s dark eyes widened slightly, the realization finally hitting her like a ton of bricks. Her cocky, confident pose faltered right then and there.

“You imagined us fucking?” Daniela’s voice came out in a slightly cracked, surprised whisper, a shy, almost bewildered smile starting to tug at the corners of her lips.

Sophia felt her own neck heat up instantly, the flush rising quickly to her cheeks.

The lethal pose from minutes ago in the aisle crumbled completely, giving way to a genuine, almost adolescent embarrassment.

She gave a low, nervous giggle, and tried to hide her reddened face by burying her nose in the crook of Daniela’s neck.

“Yes...” Sophia confessed, her voice coming out muffled and meek against the girl’s hot skin. “A lot.”

“Sophia!” Daniela exclaimed softly, surprise mixing with a laugh of disbelief.

“I’m serious!” Sophia tried to defend herself, laughing against her skin.

“Every time you came out of the hotel bathroom in nothing but a towel and paraded around the room. Or when you pulled my waist harder than you needed to in those duo choreographies at rehearsal. I’d fry my brain lying in bed trying not to think about you. And your mouth… and your hands.”

The laugh that escaped Daniela was completely loose, vibrating deliciously against Sophia’s chest.

But her tanned face also took on a visibly reddish hue under the dim yellow light of the lamp.

Suddenly embarrassed by the confession stuck in her own throat and by the now smug look Sophia was giving her, Daniela pulled the blanket up a little higher and hid her face in the dark strands of Sophia's hair.

“Me too…” Daniela murmured, laughing softly against the top of Sophia’s head, her body shaking with the muffled fit of laughter.

She tightened her embrace, her cheeks burning.

“All the time. Us losing sleep three feet away from each other out of sheer fear of being rejected, and me dying to invade your bed in the middle of the night.”

Sophia let out a loose, relieved laugh. She lifted her face from Daniela’s neck and carefully pushed the girl’s dark hair back, just so she could look into her eyes.

Seeing Daniela Avanzini — always so self-possessed, physical, chaotic, and bold —blushing and wearing that shy smile, melted the last barrier of insecurity the leader held in her chest.

She brushed the tip of her nose against hers, their lips touching in a long, affectionate, unhurried nuzzle.

“You have no idea how much you calm me down, Dani” Sophia commented, her tone dropping the laughter and descending into a dense, real affection.

She settled her face better on the pillow without looking away.

“You’re the only person who can turn off the noise in my head.”

Daniela stopped smiling, absorbing the sentence. Her expression turned attentive, her hand automatically returning to untangle Sophia’s strands, encouraging the leader to continue.

“Earlier… at rehearsal… That breakdown. The loose cable on the floor, the transition mistake, Grant’s yelling… none of that was the real reason for my meltdown.”

“No?” Daniela whispered, her brow furrowing.

“Why did you black out like that, then?”

Sophia swallowed hard, shifting her body in the minimal space, feeling her own leg slide against Daniela's smooth thigh.

“That was just the final straw,” Sophia explained, her voice gentle.

“The tension was suffocating me from the minute I woke up with you holding me. I spent the whole day watching you. The way your body moves, your sweaty tank top clinging to you, the heavy looks you were giving me from behind the lenses of those sunglasses… my spine was locked up all day.”

“I swear to God I tried not to look at you too much. I saw you were at your limit with the choreography, I swore to myself I was going to respect your space and not test your patience with provocations before the show.”

“But that made it worse!” Sophia laughed weakly, a humorless laugh, full of exhaustion.

“It made it worse because all I wanted was for you to look at me. All I wanted was for you to provoke me.”

Sophia paused, her thumb moving up from her abdomen to trace Daniela's parted lips with extreme delicacy.

Daniela didn’t even blink, completely hypnotized by Sophia's bare honesty.

“I panicked because the stage is gigantic and I have to deliver everything perfectly… but my real despair was realizing I wasn’t going to be able to do tomorrow’s show with my head like that,” Sophia confessed, her eyes tearing up, not from sadness, but from pure relief at finally putting it all out there.

“I was freaking out at rehearsal because the only thing I really wanted to do, the entire time, was fuck you.”

Sophia’s hand stopped on Daniela’s face.

“I couldn’t have handled walking onto that stage tomorrow, in front of that crowd, and pretending to be professional beside you while feeling this lust consume me alive from the inside,”

“I needed this to happen today. I needed you.”

The weight of that sentence hit Daniela head on like a runaway train.

Her breath simply hitched in her lungs.

The idea that the leader of the group, the woman who controlled everything and everyone with an iron fist, the same person who was always impeccable, was confessing under a tour bus blanket that she almost had a nervous breakdown in an arena just because she was desperate with lust for her… it was a shock that irreparably short circuited the her nervous system.

Daniela’s light, shy gaze melted right then and there. The adoration that took over her face was so absurd and raw that it completely disarmed the tension in her broad shoulders once and for all.

Without saying a single word, because no words could capture what she was feeling, Daniela held Sophia’s face in both her hands.

She pulled the Filipina to her and pressed her lips against hers.

It was a kiss of absolute surrender. Daniela explored Sophia’s mouth with careful sweetness, her tongue caressing hers calmly, swallowing every trembling sigh the leader let out.

When they finally pulled apart out of sheer lack of air, their mouths didn’t distance more than an inch, their foreheads still pressed together.

“You almost give me a heart attack confessing something like that with that gentle voice and that bare face,” Daniela murmured, her voice raspy and choked, her thumbs smoothing over Sophia's cheekbones in a ceaseless caress.

“And there I was… torturing myself, thinking you were overwhelmed with the show, and you were freaking out for the exact same reason I was.”

“Two absolute idiots,” Sophia agreed in a whisper, laughing against Daniela's mouth.

Her fingers tangled into the curls at the nape of Daniela’s neck, squeezing lightly in a possessive, relieved stroke.

Daniela slid her arm down, pulling the Filipina by the waist to completely mold their hips together, eliminating the minimal space the freezing air conditioning was still trying to invade.

“Promise me, Soph…” Daniela murmured, her voice coming out muffled against the skin of Sophia’s neck.

Her accent was thicker, slurred by sleep and the physical exhaustion that was finally taking its toll.

“Promise what?” Sophia asked softly.

Her thumb rubbed a constant caress against the younger girl’s nape, feeling the texture of her dark hair.

Daniela lifted her face slowly, resting her chin on Sophia’s chest just enough to be able to look straight into her gray eyes.

The weak yellow light from the small reading lamp hit the side of the dancer’s face, illuminating her serious, disarmed expression.

“That we’re not going to do this bullshit anymore. That it’s over.”

Daniela swallowed hard, her hand splayed on Sophia’s back gripping the fabric of the thin blanket.

“No more backing away in hotel hallways, no more taking two steps back when someone from the crew is looking, no more sleeping in separate beds and frying with anxiety in the dark. I don’t want to go through that anymore, Soph. We don’t have to hide and be apart like this anymore.”

Sophia felt her chest tighten, but for the first time all day, it was in a good way.

Daniela’s blunt honesty lifted the last lingering weight off her shoulders that she didn’t even know she was still carrying.

“I promise,” Sophia replied without hesitating for a single second.

She slid both hands from Daniela’s neck to her face, her thumbs tracing the cheekbones she herself had cleaned with the wet wipe minutes prior.

“I’m not going anywhere, Dani. And you’re not leaving my side anymore, either”

Daniela smiled loosely, her broad shoulders finally losing all the tension accumulated throughout the day. The verbal guarantee worked like a sedative. She brushed the tip of her nose against Sophia’s, a slow, lazy nuzzle.

Sophia kept holding Daniela's face, her eyes sweeping over every detail of her relaxed features in the half light.

Her tanned skin was clean, with no trace of makeup from rehearsal, free of the obscene chaos from before. It was just the real Daniela.

“I never want to wake up again without seeing your clean face two inches away from me. Without being able to look closely and count your freckles the way I’m doing right now,” Sophia murmured, her thumb brushing lightly beneath the girl’s eyes.

Daniela’s gaze simply melted. Her entire tough exterior evaporated for good, making way for an expression of pure adoration and vulnerability.

She turned her face slightly, closing her eyes to leave a lingering, warm, and deeply reverent kiss on the palm of Sophia’s hand.

“And I never want to have to sleep again without being able to feel this right here.”

She adjusted herself on the tiny mattress, her body shrinking down until she buried her nose right into the crook of Sophia’s neck.

Daniela took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the sweet scent of Sophia's skin mixed with her natural sweat.

It was the scent of home.

The scent she had spent the last three years pretending not to seek out backstage at their shows.

“Never again, Soph,” Daniela repeated in a muffled whisper, her hot breath hitting the leader’s goosebump covered skin.

Her arm squeezed Sophia’s waist in a definitive, heavy hold, anchoring them both beneath the blanket.

Sophia closed her eyes, her heart beating at a calm rhythm. She let her chin rest on top of Daniela’s head, her fingers getting lost once again in the curls at the nape of the girl’s neck.

There was no more distance.

The silence that followed was no longer made of denial or fear, but of the absolute certainty that, starting that night, they would never have to face the early hours of the morning alone ever again.