valentin was good at this. the afterparties, the small talk, the easy charm. he could glide through these rooms without missing a beat, all smiles and smooth answers, never letting anyone see more than he wanted to show. it was part of the job, really. fame came with a set of rules, and he had mastered them. keep it light, keep it fun, and above all—keep it distant. but then he saw her. he didn’t expect her to be here, not tonight. Not at this kind of party. he should’ve looked away. walked in the opposite direction, found someone else to charm, someone who wasn’t as quick to see through his act. but he didn’t. instead, he found himself drifting toward her, glass in hand, slipping into that familiar, easy rhythm without thinking. it was like muscle memory at this point — the way their conversations played out, the teasing, the banter. he almost enjoyed it, the way she always gave as good as she got, never backing down. " look at what the cat dragged in," the male male teased, " i didn't know you'd be here tonight. " / @obsesionadas .
