Slightly breathless when you catch my gaze. This moment is *ours*.

The sleeve of your shirt brushes her arm as you move closer, subtle heat rising against the cool knit. She tilts her head, a slow, deliberate turn that pulls at the corner of her lip. A smile blooms—not quite invitation, but close enough. Her fingertips trace the curve of your wrist, barely there, then linger. You hold your breath as she lifts one hand to brush away a stray strand of hair from her cheek. The light catches in the gold hoop of her earring—a shimmer against pale skin.