11-28-2023, 01:17 AM
The clues clicked into place when he learned of Ezvin’s career. The effortless cool that Ezvin exuded and the ease with which he navigated the party all made sense now. He looked at him with fresh eyes, and saw someone so completely unlike anyone he’d ever known before. Even Darya's playful warnings couldn’t dampen a growing sense of attraction brewing within Jensen.
Ezvin’s invitation was as tempting as the fast-paced music filling the room. Jensen’s smile was hesitant, flattered but embarrassed at first, wary of the public display and the eyes that might follow their movements. He told himself the concern was all in his own head, but watching Ezvin, feeling the infectious beat of the music, something within him shifted.
Jensen moved closer, a mixture of excitement and nerves evident in his demeanor. “Yeah, let's dance," he answered.
Ezvin stole Jensen's hand and led him onto the dance floor. The music was a dynamic, upbeat tempo, and at first, Jensen moved with a cautious rhythm, his dancing reserved as he acclimated to the beat and the sensation of dancing across from Ezvin. But Ezvin guided him with ease, a hand here, a lead there, and soon, Jensen grew warm enough to wish he’d worn other clothing. He now understood why pictures of people at parties like this showed them in various stages of undress. It wasn’t immodesty, it was the temperature!
Gradually, Jensen found his own rhythm, the music and Ezvin’s presence coaxing him out of his shell. They danced in sync, their movements complementary – Ezvin’s bold and sweeping, Jensen’s more measured but increasingly confident. It was only a random moment of glancing aside when the people parted and he glimpsed a familiar face.
And he felt every drop of blood drain from his face. He only realized he’d stopped dancing when Ezvin touched him on the arm. Jensen licked his lips and left the dance floor in the opposite direction as Maksim.
He should leave immediately. The Custody already knew what happened at the hospital that night, and likely due to his Wallet, let alone the tracker in his arm, they knew exactly where he was. The moment they learned he was at a party with Maksim, Jensen assumed they would be furious.
He could tell Ezvin a work thing arose. Come to think of it, Ezvin hadn’t asked about his job, but maybe there simply hadn’t been the opportunity. The excuse would invite the question, though, and Jensen didn’t want to lie. The same dilemma faced him if he claimed a family emergency arose, given that his family was on the other side of the world.
He glanced over his shoulder to see if Maksim was still in view, luckily, he was blocked by the crowd dancing in the center of the room, and luckily Maksim hadn’t seemed to notice him back. It would put him in an awkward position if he had, recognition and then pretending to not know him. It was a burden Jensen didn’t want to impose upon him.
He sighed, feeling deflated either way.
"I'm sorry," he told Ezvin. "I saw someone I know that I'd rather not run into." The explanation was certainly true, even if he felt convicted over withholding the whole story.
Ezvin’s invitation was as tempting as the fast-paced music filling the room. Jensen’s smile was hesitant, flattered but embarrassed at first, wary of the public display and the eyes that might follow their movements. He told himself the concern was all in his own head, but watching Ezvin, feeling the infectious beat of the music, something within him shifted.
Jensen moved closer, a mixture of excitement and nerves evident in his demeanor. “Yeah, let's dance," he answered.
Ezvin stole Jensen's hand and led him onto the dance floor. The music was a dynamic, upbeat tempo, and at first, Jensen moved with a cautious rhythm, his dancing reserved as he acclimated to the beat and the sensation of dancing across from Ezvin. But Ezvin guided him with ease, a hand here, a lead there, and soon, Jensen grew warm enough to wish he’d worn other clothing. He now understood why pictures of people at parties like this showed them in various stages of undress. It wasn’t immodesty, it was the temperature!
Gradually, Jensen found his own rhythm, the music and Ezvin’s presence coaxing him out of his shell. They danced in sync, their movements complementary – Ezvin’s bold and sweeping, Jensen’s more measured but increasingly confident. It was only a random moment of glancing aside when the people parted and he glimpsed a familiar face.
And he felt every drop of blood drain from his face. He only realized he’d stopped dancing when Ezvin touched him on the arm. Jensen licked his lips and left the dance floor in the opposite direction as Maksim.
He should leave immediately. The Custody already knew what happened at the hospital that night, and likely due to his Wallet, let alone the tracker in his arm, they knew exactly where he was. The moment they learned he was at a party with Maksim, Jensen assumed they would be furious.
He could tell Ezvin a work thing arose. Come to think of it, Ezvin hadn’t asked about his job, but maybe there simply hadn’t been the opportunity. The excuse would invite the question, though, and Jensen didn’t want to lie. The same dilemma faced him if he claimed a family emergency arose, given that his family was on the other side of the world.
He glanced over his shoulder to see if Maksim was still in view, luckily, he was blocked by the crowd dancing in the center of the room, and luckily Maksim hadn’t seemed to notice him back. It would put him in an awkward position if he had, recognition and then pretending to not know him. It was a burden Jensen didn’t want to impose upon him.
He sighed, feeling deflated either way.
"I'm sorry," he told Ezvin. "I saw someone I know that I'd rather not run into." The explanation was certainly true, even if he felt convicted over withholding the whole story.