The next few days were a torture of anticipation. Julian and I didn't speak much when Leo was around, but the air between us was thick, almost tangible. We developed a secret language—a lingering look, a touch of the shoulder, the way he would say my name just a little too slowly.
I couldn't focus on my college coursework. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt him. I felt the way he had filled me, the way his fingers had stretched me, the way he had looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
Friday arrived with a storm that mirrored the turbulence in my chest. The gala was a lavish affair, held in a mirrored ballroom that looked like something out of a dream. I wore the champagne silk dress, the one that clung to every curve and left very little to the imagination.
