[Alyssa]
As I drop the blindfold, I can't help but to tear up at the beautiful scenery in front of me. We're standing at the entrance to a huge dancing studio, the mirrored walls off to the side giving that away as rose petals create an aisle that leads to the center; just a few inches in front of the mirror, an enlongated table with a stereo sits unbothered. The lights are dim just enough for the both of us to see.
Without warning, Chresanto grabs my hand and leads me down the aisle of roses, stopping in the center of the room.
"Have you ever been ballroom dancing before?" he questions as a piece of classical music begins to softly play above us. I shake my head from side to side, and he pulls me close to him. "I'll teach you how then." He places his right hand on my waist and holds his left hand up in the air. "Put your left hand on my shoulder and your right hand in mine." I do as he says, our hands perfectly fitting together. "Okay, now, when I step back, you step forward, like so." He steps takes a step back using his right foot, and I step forward. I must have taken an extra step forward, because I somehow manage to accidentally step on his foot. "Ow."
"I'm sorry," I apologize, my cheeks turning red. "I'm not the best dancer."
"It's okay," he smiles, showing off his fangs at the corners of his mouth. "I'm not really a dancer myself. I had to learn ballroom dancing for my aunt's wedding."
"That's adorable," I smile up at him. Chresanto stands at least six inches taller than me without heels on, but with heels, he's about three or four inches taller.
"Shall we try dancing again?" he asks, staring into my eyes. At first glance, his almond-shaped, deep-set eyes appear to be blackened, but up close, they're actually a nut brown, and they're very captivating; his eyes keep a hold of mine as we begin again, and pretty soon, the two of us are stepping in sync with perfect rhythm. "Good job."
I look down as my cheeks begin to flush with heat, letting me and Chresanto know that I'm blushing. The music above us transitions to another song, and the two of us continue with our ballroom dancing; after five minutes of us twirling around, Chresanto removes his arm from around my waist and spins me around in a circle using our connected hands to do so. Once he finishes spinning me, he pulls me back into his muscular chest and places his arm around my waist once more. Each time I'm facing the mirror or can see the reflection of us dancing, I can't help but to watch.
"You're a fast learner," he compliments as we twirl around the room.
"I have a great teacher," I smile up at him. "You're really good at this, by the way."
He smiles back, spinning me again. "Thank you." He dips me, his face just inches from mine. "I'm going to kiss you now. If you don't want me to, you can say no."
My eyes travel from his eyes then to his lips and back to his eyes again. In a weak, stammering voice, I manage to say, "K-Kiss me."
He slowly inches his face closer to mine, our eyes never leaving each other's as our faces become mere centimeters apart. He closes the closes the distance and places his full, plump, pink lips on mine. Whether it be the alcohol still coursing through my veins or the feeling I have deep in the pit of my stomach, I'm not sure, but something causes me to wrap both of my arms around his neck as my lips move in sync with his. The instrumental music above us sets the perfect romantic mood as Chresanto stands us upright.
