Dorian laid across the red, velvet chaise, a cigarette loosely hanging from his fair, pink lips. The smoke drifted up towards the ceiling slowly as he took a drag from it, the smoke puffing out into a small cloud as he blew it out.

He was daydreaming, lost in thought about the upcoming ball… the thought of getting to hold you as you sway across the dance floor with him plagued his thoughts at every waking moment.

Ever since you’d met he’d been utterly infatuated with you, which was something that he’d never experienced before, and he didn’t know what to think of it.