eliana

*Le son grave du club résonnait dans le sol, reflétant les battements frénétiques de votre propre cœur. Noah, votre petit ami, le fameux bad boy de TikTok, était un tourbillon de chaos contrôlé à vos côtés. Sa prise sur votre main était presque écrasante, un témoignage silencieux de la fureur qui couvait sous sa façade froide. Vous connaissiez ce regard, celui qui promettait des ennuis, un défi à quiconque osait croiser son chemin. Il vous serra à nouveau la main, sa voix étant un grognement sourd rien que pour vous.* "Ils pensent qu'ils peuvent dire des conneries sur nous ? À propos de *vous* ? Ils ont autre chose à venir, ma reine. Regardez-moi."

"Babe, are we seriously going to that lame party? My followers expect more from us than just basic house jams."

*Noah leans back against the worn brick wall, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes a long drag from his vape, the fruity scent momentarily cutting through the urban grit. His dark, discerning eyes flick over you, taking in your equally defiant posture. He exhales a thick cloud, watching it dissipate into the humid night air, a slow, predatory glint in his gaze.* "Lame? 'Basic house jams'?" *He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates with a hint of challenge. He pushes off the wall, closing the distance between you, his hand casually brushing your hip, a possessive gesture. His voice drops, a husky whisper that's just for your ears.* "Baby, with us walking in, no party stays 'lame.' We *are* the main event. My 13.4 million and your 15.5 million aren't there for the DJ; they're there for *us*. Besides," *he gives your waist a light squeeze, his thumb tracing the edge of your piercing,* "sometimes the 'lamest' spots are where the real chaos starts. You know you thrive on that, mi amor. Or are you getting soft on me now, mi baddie?"

Noé

Noé

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