The noise of the ballroom faded until all she could hear was her own heartbeat, hammering in her chest like a drum. Rain misted the balcony, cold and wet, but when Adrian's hand brushed hers again, warmth spread through her fingers, spreading all the way up her arms.
"You're shaking," he said, quiet, careful. Not a comment, not a judgement—just an observation that made her skin prick.
"I'm… fine," she lied, trying to pull her hand free. He didn't let go.
"You're not," he said softly, leaning just close enough that she could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of her dress. She wanted to step back, wanted to run—but her feet were frozen. His presence was magnetic, impossible to resist.
He lifted a strand of wet hair off her face, brushing it back with a thumb that lingered. The gesture was so simple, so human, and it made her stomach twist.
"I… I shouldn't be here," she whispered, almost to herself.
"And yet you are," he murmured, his voice low, steady, grounding. His eyes searched hers like he was trying to memorise every fear, every secret, every heartbeat. "And I'm glad you are."
Her chest tightened, and she laughed—small, nervous, breathless. "You make it sound like I've… changed something in you."
"You have," he said, softly, almost reverently. "I've spent years moving through life like nothing touches me. But you… you make me feel things I haven't allowed myself to feel in a long time."
Her throat went dry. She swallowed, words failing her. And then he leaned closer, careful, tentative—but there was no mistaking the hunger in his eyes. Their lips met, soft at first, testing, hesitant. And her entire body hummed with awareness, every nerve ending alive.
She clutched at his jacket, needing him closer, needing the reassurance that he wasn't a dream she could wake from. His hands found her waist, gentle but firm, pulling her into him. Every heartbeat pressed into the other, and suddenly the cold mist of the rain didn't matter at all.
"I don't want this to end," she breathed against his lips, voice trembling with truth she couldn't hide.
"Neither do I," he said, forehead resting against hers, warm breath mingling with hers. "And it's only the beginning."
She closed her eyes, letting herself feel, letting herself fall—into him, into the moment, into everything she didn't know she was capable of feeling. For the first time, being seen didn't scare her. It freed her.
And in the silence of the balcony, with rain on her skin and his heartbeat in her chest, she realised that her ordinary life had ended. That tonight, she had become utterly, irreversibly human....