I've never been the center of attention on a dance floor before. Heck, I don't go on dance floors.
But then again, right now, I'm not on the dance floor. I'm on the man who's moving on the dance floor.
It almost seems like the lights from the other chandeliers have been turned off, only the one peering down on us remains. Or more like the people around us have just sort of turned into blurry images. Almost non-existent.
Even the music doesn't seem to be playing so loud. At first, it sounded very audible. But then the moment I placed my feet on his oh so perfectly white shoes, and his hands wound around my back and waist, with his demonic citrine eyes staring down into mine, the music had slowly faded in my head.
