The next day, Arahan arrived at the rehearsal room a few minutes early, carrying a small plastic bag in one hand. He'd stopped at the school canteen on the way: one chilled bottle of mineral water and a pack of her favorite chocolate biscuits, he'd overheard her mention them yesterday during a casual chat with one of the girls.
He pushed the door open quietly, and froze.
Priya was already in the center of the room, alone for the moment, running through a solo warm-up sequence to a soft instrumental track. She wasn't in her usual school uniform or tracksuit today.
Tight black leggings hugged every inch of her lower body like a second skin, showing the perfect, rounded curve of her ass, the long, toned lines of her thighs, the subtle flex of muscle every time she shifted weight or did a hip roll. The fabric was so thin and stretchy it left almost nothing to the imagination when she bent or twisted.
On top, a fitted white t-shirt, slightly cropped, ending just above her navel, clung to her torso. The material stretched taut across her breasts, outlining their full shape, the gentle bounce with each movement, the faint shadow of her bra straps visible underneath.
Every time she raised her arms or arched her back, the shirt rode up a little, flashing a sliver of smooth, flat stomach.
She looked… unreal. Like she'd stepped out of one of those late-night dance reels that made guys scroll for hours.
Arahan's throat went dry. He stayed in the doorway a second longer than he should have, just watching.
The way her ponytail whipped when she spun, the way sweat was already starting to make the t-shirt cling in places, darkening the fabric between her shoulder blades and along her spine.
This was clearly her "rehearsal-only" outfit, something she wore alone when no one was around her, but she didn't know why she decided to wear it today, when Arahan was present there.
Priya finished the sequence with a final graceful pose, her back arched, one leg extended behind her, then straightened, breathing a little harder. She noticed him and smiled, wiping her forehead with the back of her wrist.
"Hey… you're early."
Arahan recovered quickly, stepping inside and letting the door close behind him. "Couldn't wait to see if I'd forgotten any steps overnight."
She laughed softly, walking over to grab her towel from a nearby chair. "You're doing fine. Better than fine, actually."
He took out a water bottle and biscuits, "I thought you needed these, since you always forget to drink during practice."
Priya's eyes lit up. She took the water bottle first, twisting the cap off and taking a long sip. A tiny droplet escaped and rolled down her chin, then her throat, disappearing into the neckline of her t-shirt. Arahan tracked it without meaning to.
"Thanks," she said, feeling genuine warmth in her voice. "You really noticed that? Most people don't."
"I notice a lot of things," he replied, while looking towards her wet t-shirt, which outlines her figure.
"Like how incredible you look when you dance. That sequence just now… the way you move, it's hypnotic. Every curve, every line, it's perfect. You make the whole room feel alive."
Priya's cheeks flushed pink under the compliment. She looked down at herself self-consciously for a second, tugging lightly at the hem of her t-shirt like she suddenly remembered how revealing it was with him standing there.
She became a little embarrassed. "I… usually only wear this at home. But today I decided to wear it for dance practice," she admitted quietly.
"It's more comfortable for practice. Didn't expect you to come so early."
Arahan stepped a little closer, casual, "I'm glad I did. Otherwise, how can I witness you look beautiful in these clothes?"
She bit her lip, smiling shyly. "Stop, you're going to make me blush even more."
"Too late," he teased gently. "I have already recorded every part of you in my mind."
Hearing this, Priya again became blushed, she took one of the biscuits, breaking it in half and offering him the other piece without thinking. "Here, eat it."
But instead of taking it, he held her hand. And put the biscuit directly in his mouth, while even licking her finger. "Instead of giving it, you should feed me directly."
Priya blushed, but she nodded. And for the next few biscuits, she tore it and fed it. It was weird for a girl to do something with someone else, which they did not even know for even a month.
But Priya felt it was okay to feed Sharky with her own hands.
From the far corner of the room, Zainab had just walked in with her group of girls. She stopped dead when she saw the scene: Arahan and Priya standing close, sharing food, Priya in her skin-tight rehearsal clothes, Arahan looking at her like she was the only person in the world.
Zainab's arms crossed instantly. Her jaw tightened. She felt a sharp jealousy. She didn't know why, but she hated seeing Arahan smiling together with Priya.
She marched over to her girls, barking orders louder than necessary. "Come on, warm-up positions! We're not here to stand around!"
But her eyes kept darting back to Arahan and Priya.
Arahan caught Zainab's glare over Priya's shoulder and let the corner of his mouth lift in the most infuriating smirk.
Then he turned his full attention back to Priya.
"Ready to run the couple number?" he asked her.
Priya nodded, finishing the last sip of water. "Let's do it. From the top."
As they moved to the center, Arahan placed his hand on her waist, right where the leggings met bare skin at her lower back. The contact was warm, electric through the thin fabric.
And this time, when they started dancing, every touch felt a little heavier. A little more intentional.
---
The music looped back to the beginning, a slower, more intimate version of the track.
Priya reset her position in the center, rolling her shoulders to loosen up, the tight leggings stretching over her ass and thighs with every small movement.
Arahan stepped in behind her, placing his right hand exactly where the choreography called for: low on her waist, fingers splayed wide enough to feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of her t-shirt.
This time, though, he didn't keep it strictly professional.
He pulled her back against him just a fraction more than necessary for the opening frame. Her ass brushed the front of his trousers, soft, unintentional at first, then lingering as they swayed into the first slow step.
Priya feels shy, she can feel that was inappropriate. But she didn't pull away. Her body settled into his hold, spine arching slightly so her breasts lifted toward the ceiling.
"You like it?" he murmured near her ear, voice low enough that only she could hear over the music.
Priya continuously blushed, but she nodded, "A little closer… for the turn."
Arahan obliged. His left hand slid up her arm to clasp hers, while his right dipped lower, thumb tracing the dip of her waist, then pressing flat against her lower abdomen just above the waistband of her leggings.
He could feel the subtle tremor in her muscles, the way her breathing quickened when his fingers flexed, pulling her flush against him for the slow hip roll.
They moved together: side step, turn, dip. In the dip he supported her fully, back arched over his arm, one of her legs hooking loosely around his thigh for balance.
Her core pressed directly against his growing hardness through their clothes. She felt it. Her eyes fluttered half-closed for a second before she opened them again, cheeks flushed deeper than from exertion alone.
When he brought her up, their faces ended inches apart. Her lips parted on a soft exhale. Arahan's thumb "accidentally" grazed the underside of her breast as he straightened her. Priya bit her lower lip, but she didn't step back.
"Better?" he asked quietly.
"Much better," she whispered back, voice a little husky.
They ran it twice more. Each time the touches grew bolder breaking the bounds of "choreography", his hand sliding down the curve of her hip during a spin, her fingers lingering on his chest when she faced him, their bodies grinding in slow motion during the romantic hold.
Sweat made her t-shirt cling transparently in places, nipples faintly visible now, dark points against white cotton. Arahan's trousers were uncomfortably tight, but he kept his face calm, focused, like this was just practice.
From the side of the room, Zainab watched every second.
Her arms were crossed so hard her knuckles whitened. Her girls kept shooting her worried glances, but she ignored them.
Every time Arahan's hand drifted lower on Priya's waist, every time Priya smiled up at him like that, something hot and bitter twisted in Zainab's chest. Jealousy.
She hated how Priya looked in those clothes. Hated how Arahan looked at her like she was the only girl in the world. Hated most of all that it bothered her this much.
Practice wrapped up twenty minutes later. Mrs. Sharma dismissed everyone. Priya grabbed her towel, still breathing hard, and shot Arahan a small, private smile before heading to change.
Arahan picked up his bag slowly, deliberately taking his time.