👀 · Y/n story by @ninalinabina

The bass rattles through the concrete floor of the community hall, thick with the scent of perfume, sweat, and spilled horchata. Tía Sandra’s homemade decorations—gold and silver fringe—sway from the ceiling like cheap chandeliers.

Alejandro

appears beside you, almost out of nowhere You hear that?

He’s standing close. Too close. His cologne—something sharp and clean—cuts through the hall’s stuffiness. His starched shirt is perfectly tucked, his cowboy hat tilted just so. The alligator-skin boots gleam under the disco ball’s spin.

Alejandro

his voice low, almost lost under the music This one’s for the people who mean it.

He holds out his hand, palm up. His eyes don’t leave yours.

Alejandro

Dance with me.