Arahan picked up his bag slowly, deliberately taking his ti.
Zainab was already at the gate by the ti he stepped out into the corridor. She was leaning against the wall, arms still crossed, foot tapping impatiently.
She pushed off the wall the second she saw him.
"Arahan."
He stopped, raising an eyebrow. "Zainab. Are you waiting for ?"
She stepped right into his space, close enough that he could sll her jasmine perfu mixed with the faint scent of chalk dust from the room.
"What the hell was that?" She hissed, voice low but shaking with fury. "You think you can just... paw at Priya like that in front of everyone? Grinding on her like so cheap street dancer? She’s not one of your little playthings."
Arahan looked down at her calmly, that sa devilish half-smile tugging at his lips. "I was dancing. Following her lead. She didn’t seem to mind."
Zainab’s eyes flashed with fury. "She’s too nice to call you out. But I saw it, the way you touched her, the way you looked at her. You’re doing this on purpose, just to get under her skin."
Arahan tilted his head, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. "Jealous, princess?"
The word hit her like a slap. Zainab’s breath caught in her throat. Her face flushed from pink to blazing red.
"I’m not jealous," she snapped, but her voice cracked on the lie. "I just don’t like seeing you act like a creep. Especially not with her."
Arahan stepped closer, until she had to tilt her head back to et his eyes. His voice dropped to a low, intimate murmur that only she could hear.
"Then why are you standing here waiting for instead of walking away? Why do your hands shake when you yell at ? And why..." He leaned in a fraction more, close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin. "...do you keep staring at my hands like you’re rembering exactly where they were on her body... and wishing they were on yours?"
Zainab’s lips parted. For a mont, no sound ca out. Her chest rose and fell faster. She swallowed hard.
"You’re disgusting," she finally managed, but the words sounded weak, even to her own ears.
Arahan chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous. "Maybe. But you’re still here."
He reached out slowly, giving her every chance to stop him, and brushed a stray strand of hair off her cheek with the back of his knuckles. Zainab flinched, but she didn’t pull away.
For a long ti they stood there inches apart, tension crackling between them like static electricity.
Then Zainab shoved him hard, right in the chest. "Stay away from her. She’s a teacher. And also stay away from ."
She turned on her heel and stord off down the corridor, ponytail swinging wildly, fists clenched at her sides.
Arahan watched her go, the devilish smile never leaving his lips.
---
The next day’s rehearsal started later than usual, Mrs. Sharma had a staff eting, so the room was already warm and dimly lit when Arahan walked in.
The eleventh-grade girls were scattered around stretching, chatting in low voices. And then there was Priya.
She stood near the speaker, testing the playlist, and Arahan’s steps faltered for half a second.
Today she’d gone even bolder.
A black sports bra, thin straps, deep V-neck plunging between her breasts, the fabric hugging and lifting them so every breath made them rise noticeably.
Below that, high-waisted bike shorts in shiny black lycra, so tight they outline the full, round shape of her ass, the cleft between her cheeks visible when she shifted weight, the smooth lines of her thighs flexing with every small movent.
A thin sliver of midriff showed between the two pieces, toned, glistening faintly with the first hints of sweat.
These types of dresses were not allowed in the school, but she brought them here and changed them. She is also a teacher, and even asked for the permission from Mrs. Sharma. So, she allowed it.
Priya caught his eye and gave a small, almost shy smile, but there was a spark in it. Like she knew exactly what she was doing and wanted him to notice.
"New outfit?" Arahan asked casually as he dropped his bag.
Priya shrugged one shoulder, ponytail swinging. "It’s hot today. And... easier to move in. No one else minds." Her gaze flicked over him quickly. "You don’t mind, right?"
"If I mind it, did you change the dress," He asked, teasing her.
Priya thought for a second, and said, "If you don’t like it, I can change it."
Hearing it, Arahan beca happy, he even understood that now Priya is ready to beco his.
"Not at all. You look fucking incredible in these dresses, it just I want that no one can sees you in these clothes, except of ." Arahan replied, and his tone was a little possessive.
Priya didn’t understand, complete aning of his words, but hearing his complint, she he bit her lip to hide the smile, cheeks warming. "Thank you. Let’s just dance."
The music started, slower this ti, heavier bass, a track ant for close, sensual choreography.
They began the couple number from yesterday, but Priya changed a few things on the fly. The turns beca slower, more deliberate. The hip rolls deeper.
When he dipped her, she arched further back, pressing her chest against his as she ca up, her breasts dragging along his torso in a slow, teasing slide.
Arahan matched her energy perfectly. His hand on her waist slid lower during the hold, fingers splaying over the bare skin just above her shorts, thumb tracing lazy circles.
In the lift, he pulled her tight against him so her core ground against his hardness for a full beat longer than necessary. Priya’s breath hitched audibly; her thighs clenched around his waist instinctively before he lowered her again.
She didn’t pull away.
Instead, during the next romantic hold, she whispered against his ear, "You’re getting better at this... or maybe I’m just enjoying the practice more."
Arahan’s grip tightened on her hip. "Keep moving like that and I won’t be able to pretend this is just dancing anymore."
Priya’s eyes sparkled. "Who said I want you to pretend?"
They ran the sequence three more tis. Each pass grew hotter, her ass grinding back into him during a slow back-to-front sway, his hand slipping under the hem of her sports bra to rest on bare ribs for a "correction," her nails digging lightly into his shoulders when he spun her too fast and pulled her back in hard. By the end, both were breathing heavily, skin slick, the air thick with unspoken tension.
Priya finally stepped back, fanning herself. "Okay... I need to change before I lt. Give five minutes."
She grabbed her towel and headed toward the small side room they used as a changing area, hips swaying with that sa hypnotic grace.
Arahan stayed behind, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt, when Zainab appeared in the doorway like she’d been waiting.
She stord straight toward him, eyes blazing.
"This dance we can’t play in the school," she hissed the mont she reached him. "It’s disgusting. The way you two were grinding on each other like animals. Priya in those tiny clothes, you practically dry-humping her in front of everyone. This is a school farewell, not a porn shoot!"
Arahan turned slowly, calm as ever. "You watched the whole thing, huh?"
Zainab’s face flushed darker. "Soone has to stop this before it gets out of hand."
He stepped forward, until her back hit the wall beside the door. Before she could react, he spun her around so her front pressed to the cool plaster, his body caging her from behind.
One hand planted beside her head, the other sliding around her waist to hold her in place.
His hardness pressed unmistakably against her ass through her skirt, thick and insistent.
Zainab sucked in a sharp breath.
"You must be jealous of Priya," Arahan murmured against her ear, lips brushing the shell. "Instead of yelling, you want to hold you like this, dancing with you, playing with you. Grinding slowly until you’re shaking and begging for more."
"No... you’re wrong," Zainab whispered, but her voice ca out weak, trembling. Her hips shifted back, just a fraction, pressing harder against his cock like she couldn’t help it.
Arahan chuckled low in his throat. "Feel that? How hard do you make just by standing here pretending you hate it?"
He rocked forward once more letting her feel every inch through the layers of fabric. Zainab whimpered softly, thighs squeezing together.
He leaned in closer, voice dropping to a dark whisper. "If you really want to get closer to ... stop pretending. Stop fighting it. Just say the word, princess, and I’ll give you exactly what you’re too proud to ask for."
Zainab’s breathing was ragged now, palms flat against the wall like she was trying to push away but couldn’t find the strength.
Arahan held her there another long second, then released her suddenly, stepping back.
She stayed pressed to the wall for a beat, chest heaving, skirt slightly rumpled.
Arahan adjusted himself casually, gave her one last look, and walked away without another word.
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