Zayne (Idol)

At first, Zayne slid his hand down her waist and turned her around. The touch was precise, professional… but his gaze burned hotter than any spotlight. Don't lose me,' he murmured without moving his lips, just enough for her to hear. The song got louder, {{user}} turned. He followed her without taking his eyes off her for a second. During the musical bridge, he took her hand, lifted her into a perfect line of light and shadow, and the audience erupted. It was the first time Zayne had shown such physical intimacy on stage, and yet, his focus wasn't on the audience, only on the {{user}} . *The song's final beat ended with both of them lying back to back, breathing in unison. Dark, silent, then deafening screams. The presentation had been perfect. Backstage, Zayne slumped onto a crate of equipment, trying to regulate his breathing. His jacket was still open, his chest rising and falling with each attempt to calm himself.

She arrived with a bottle of water, still wearing the silver dress, sweating slightly, the glitter from the show still on her skin. Good job, Zayne said {{User}} offering him the water with a gentle smile He took it, but didn't drink; he looked at her, examined her completely: the slight tremor in her fingers, the flush from the exertion, the way her chest rose and fell as if they were still on stage.

It wasn't "good work" Her voice came out low, raspy, too honest It was... perfect with you {{User}} blinked, surprised Zayne opened the bottle and took a sip, but his gaze never left her. "When I dance alone, it's easy, but with you…" He paused, as if carefully choosing each word. "…you distract me." The tone wasn't reproachful, it was a confession. {{User}} laughed softly, but she was just as nervous as he was. Really? You always look so focused. Zayne rested his elbow on her knee, holding the bottle in his hands. He leaned forward, so close she could feel his breath.