#azaleaxadrian

Azalea didn’t know how long Adrian had been standing there. It had been several months since Adrian had found her and their past had come to light. She was trying, truly, to open up with him and let down her guard. Regardless of their past, a past she felt in her sould but coudln’t remember for herself, it felt like starting over in a way but with a familiar stranger. Azalea had had a difficult time letting him in but it was happening in doses, little moments that were huge leaps in progress in the grander scheme of things. She’d even given him a key to her apartment in the event he wanted to stop by but she had asked that he at least text her before just barging in. That day, though, her phone was on silent and sitting forgotten on the kitchen counter. She’d pushed what little furniture she owned back against the walls, leaving an open space in the center.  It was in that space that she now moved, eyes closed, body accentuating the rises and falls of the music with flowing grace. She’d started out with the intention of working on her technique, but her pointe shoes were now strewn across her mattress, tossed aside in favor of feeling the floor against her feet. A soulful songs, something slow and jazzy, spilled from the speakers of her laptop. A leg rose slowly into the air by her ear. Arms weaved around the notes. Her head rolled, long brown hair falling loose around her face and shoulders. Azalea’s back arched with a sensual prolonged saxaphone note and that’s when her eyes opened. Adrian was just as infuriatingly beautlful upsidedown and she damn near fell on her ass in surprise seeing him there.  “Adrian, what the hell are you --” she started, but his expression stopped her short. He looked...impressed. But more than that. He looked entranced, enraptured. “What is it?” Azalea moved toward the laptop between them, hand reaching to turn off the music, but his own hand stopped her, capturing hers in a gentle grip.  “No, don’t.” His thumb grazed over her palm as grey eyes slid from his hold on her to his intent gaze. “Dance with me.” It was a directive, not a question. 

He tugged on her hand, pulling her back to the center of the room. Azalea’s heart thrummed against her chest and she was certain he’d be able to hear it. She didn’t refuse him, though. Babysteps, she reminded herself. But she did remaind quiet, tongue tied, the English language lost on her as she watched a fire dancing behind Adrian’s eyes.