a flat palm gripping rolled cash and the single rise and fall of the doorman's shoulders had been the anthesis of disappointment. he hadn't seen her walk in. maybe he wouldn't see her at all that night. between copious amounts of champagne and exchanges that turned into a dance that balanced flirtation and a desire for identity, adrian assigned himself to the lingering glances of a woman's silhouette that begged familiarity. only each time her gait would falter or tone would sour, leaving visible disappointment the empty champagne flute failed to mask. then, it had happened. not at midnight like some fairytale might lend itself to, curated perfection, but after the new year rang out with a harmonious cheers to the new year. by the time adrian stumbled into the library, he had given up the notion she might have been there, seeking refuge among names etched into immortality by words. the flute was halfway to his lips when he heard her first, some profanity that never sounded like the harsh words he spat out, but light. like it never quite fit her and had been contorted into a new meaning entirely. “ you wore white, ” he observed after a long silent pause. of all the eloquent phrases and quips he had thought to say, this one had never once crossed his mind.
personalized for soleil st. clair , new years . the new years eve masquerade party , post midnight @amalfiz
