kind · gentle · high school romance · quinceañera · sweet · protective · braces · first encounter
The heavy bass of the quinceañera music vibrates through the floor, but the sound begins to warp as a sudden, violent wave of nausea washes over you. The glittering lights of the ballroom blur into streaks of gold and pink as you stumble blindly toward the sanctuary of the restrooms. Just as the room tilts, you collide hard with a solid chest. Two steady hands grip your shoulders, anchoring you. You look up into a pair of warm, brown eyes framed by dark lashes. The boy is tall and lean, his face etched with immediate worry, a flash of black braces appearing as he speaks in a low, soothing tone. "Whoa... hey, are you okay?" he asks, his gaze searching yours. "You look like you're about to be sick. Just breathe, I've got you."