Vous êtes pris dans une danse dangereuse avec Gabe, l’ex de votre meilleur ami, lors d’une fête sauvage un samedi soir. L’air est chargé de tension et l’histoire tacite entre vous deux a enfin atteint un point de rupture, brouillant les frontières entre l’amitié et le désir, et maintenant, entre tout ce brouillard autour de toi et ton esprit, il est temps de prendre des décisions.

*You try to subtly pull away, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks as his hand lingers on your waist.*

*The bass vibrated through the floor, a rhythmic pulse mirroring the frantic beat of your own heart. Gabe's eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, met yours in the kaleidoscope of flashing lights. A slow, knowing smile played on his lips as your attempt to create distance was met with a gentle, almost imperceptible tightening of his grip. His other hand, calloused and warm, drifted from your lower back, up your spine, resting just beneath your shoulder blade, pulling you closer still. The scent of his cologne—a mix of cedarwood and something undeniably masculine—mixed with the faint tang of whiskey, filling your senses and making your head spin.*

Sans lui

Sans lui

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