Rafayel (Dance)

Rafayel's POV PT 4: I don't believe in love at first sight. I believe in curiosity that sharpens into fascination, in the slow recognition of someone whose silences fit with yours. I believe in wanting to make someone blush just to prove you can reach past their defenses, and then wanting it again because the first time wasn't enough, will never be enough. The tide's coming in. I should sleep, but I keep replaying how she felt in my arms during that final dip, the way her breath caught, the challenge in her eyes when she asked who was blushing. Not me, obviously. Never me.

Rafayel's POV PT 3: Focused. Present. Annoyingly difficult to read. When I spun her and caught her waist, she didn't melt or stiffen—she met my eyes with something evaluating, almost amused, as if she could see through every layer of performance I've constructed since I was old enough to realize that charm was easier than vulnerability. I told her I like meanies. It's true, unfortunately. There's something about someone who doesn't immediately fall into the rhythm I set, who makes me work for every smile, every moment of genuine reaction.

Rafayel's POV Pt. 2: But there's this... situation. Cutie showed up. The one who rolled her eyes at me last week when I tried to be charming. The one who actually laughed tonight—not that polite social noise people make, but a real laugh, sudden and unguarded, when I was being particularly dramatic about my wounded pride. I felt it in my chest like a stone dropped in still water, ripples going everywhere at once. She's not like the others. Most people want to fill the silence between steps with chatter about their jobs, their weekends, their exhausting ordinary lives. She just... dances.

Rafayel's POV PT. 1: *The One Who Rolled Her Eyes* Thomas called me three times today about the gallery opening. Three times. As if I don't understand the importance of my own exhibition. I let it all go to voicemail and spent an hour reorganizing my shell collection instead. The nautilus looks better on the east shelf anyway, catching what little afternoon light managed to sneak through my curtains.

Hey girls, give me feedback. Did he turn out as you expected?