( face to face, without the barrier of others to distract or conceal or put distance between them, things are suddenly very different.
rene hasn't seen her for a minute, but it feels like it could've happened last night. memories of a too-bright phone screen lighting up in the darkness, of promises made and kept and then some, skin against skin, mouth against mouth — dios. maybe this was a bad idea, considering the tension that seems to roll off of his body in waves now, the way his gaze, so sharp, hones in on her lips in order to keep his eyes above the plunging neckline of her dress. he was not prepared.
she came with someone, dumbass, he chides himself internally, which is enough to urge his smile to widen at her response, attentive at last. ) So they say.
( there's no need to dance around things (ha) with isabelle; he merely walks with her towards the center of the dance floor with a tip of his head, lets out a small sigh as his hands smooth over dark fabric, settle at the small of her back. rene could keep his distance, but this ain't some fucking middle school dance where you gotta keep an arm's length apart — and this is just a slow dance amongst casual acquaintances at an event he doesn't even feel fancy enough to attend. a little tug, and she's flush against him as the tempo of the current song dictates their pace, slow steps from side to side.
if there's one thing rene's got, surprising damn near everyone, it's rhythm, an inherent grace in his steps that may have inadvertently come from stealth training with the navy seals. a chuckle, sheepish, head ducked slightly as he murmurs, ) This whole thing makes me feel like I'm at my cousin's quinceañera.
🤔🤔🤔
rene hasn't seen her for a minute, but it feels like it could've happened last night. memories of a too-bright phone screen lighting up in the darkness, of promises made and kept and then some, skin against skin, mouth against mouth — dios. maybe this was a bad idea, considering the tension that seems to roll off of his body in waves now, the way his gaze, so sharp, hones in on her lips in order to keep his eyes above the plunging neckline of her dress. he was not prepared.
she came with someone, dumbass, he chides himself internally, which is enough to urge his smile to widen at her response, attentive at last. ) So they say.
( there's no need to dance around things (ha) with isabelle; he merely walks with her towards the center of the dance floor with a tip of his head, lets out a small sigh as his hands smooth over dark fabric, settle at the small of her back. rene could keep his distance, but this ain't some fucking middle school dance where you gotta keep an arm's length apart — and this is just a slow dance amongst casual acquaintances at an event he doesn't even feel fancy enough to attend. a little tug, and she's flush against him as the tempo of the current song dictates their pace, slow steps from side to side.
if there's one thing rene's got, surprising damn near everyone, it's rhythm, an inherent grace in his steps that may have inadvertently come from stealth training with the navy seals. a chuckle, sheepish, head ducked slightly as he murmurs, ) This whole thing makes me feel like I'm at my cousin's quinceañera.