YoungBloods

Change 12

The music flowed like silk, slow and low, with a haunting trumpet crooning above the steady thrum of the upright bass. The lights in the speakeasy glowed dim amber, casting long shadows across the walls. On the floor, couples swayed close, lost in their own little worlds.

DJ and Aurelia stood in the middle of it all, barely moving, hands brushing… hearts pounding.

His large palm rested gently on the small of her back, guiding her with a kind of reverent restraint, like he was afraid she’d vanish again. Her soft hand lay against his chest, just over his heart, where she could feel its rhythm thumping beneath fine cloth and muscle.

They didn’t speak at first.

They just moved.

Slow, hypnotic, and utterly in sync—like their bodies still remembered each other after all these years.

Aurelia’s breath caught as she looked up at him—really looked. His features had sharpened with age, hardened by whatever life had thrown at him since he left. His jawline was a chiseled sculpture beneath his neatly trimmed beard, lips full but pulled into a serious line, only softening when his eyes met hers. Those eyes… dark, deep, and watchful, but in this moment, filled with something more.

Not danger.

Not power.

But longing.

Aurelia didn’t ask the questions she wanted to. Didn’t ask why he never wrote, why he never called, why he vanished like a ghost after promising he’d come back for her. She didn’t ask what he’d become. Not yet.

She couldn’t ruin this moment.

He didn’t speak of what he had done. The lives he’d taken. The man he’d had to become to survive. He couldn’t bring that darkness into her light, not tonight.

So they just… held on to the silence.

And danced.

Her body moved with his so effortlessly, so familiarly, it felt like they were back in that small bedroom, hiding under the blankets from thunderstorms. Back when love wasn’t a battlefield, when survival wasn’t part of the equation.

Aurelia smiled up at him, her lashes brushing her cheeks as she tilted her head. “You’re taller now.”

DJ smirked slightly. “You’re still short.”

She chuckled, leaning in a little closer, her fingers unconsciously tightening on the fabric of his jacket.

“I missed this,” she whispered, so softly he almost didn’t hear it.

He didn’t reply.

But the way he looked at her—like she was both salvation and sin—was answer enough.

Then her smile faltered.

Just slightly.

Her eyes shifted, as if trying to decide if she should speak. Then, in a voice layered with pain and quiet truth, she said, “A lot has happened since you’ve been gone.”

DJ’s gaze darkened a shade. He didn’t stop moving, just pulled her a little closer, as if bracing himself.

Aurelia swallowed hard. “Letty passed away. Two years ago.”

His jaw clenched. He remembered Letty—her warm laugh, her scoldings, her steady presence in Aurelia’s life. She wasn’t just the maid. She was family.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the words like gravel in his throat.

“She was sick,” Aurelia continued, trying to keep her voice steady. “It happened fast. Maybelle took it the hardest.”

DJ nodded silently, his hand tightening briefly on her waist in a gesture of shared grief.

“And…” she hesitated, then glanced around the club, her expression dimming. “The city… it’s changing. Not for the better.”

She didn’t have to say more. He saw it too. The fear in the streets. The boarded-up shops. The color slowly draining from a place that once had vibrancy, rhythm, and grit.

He looked down at her again, brushing a strand of golden hair from her cheek. “Yeah… I noticed.”

They stopped dancing, still holding each other, the music a soft hum around them. DJ’s thumb traced the curve of her back absently, and Aurelia’s eyes searched his face.

Neither of them said what they were truly thinking.

Not yet.

But in that quiet space between them—where pain, history, and unsaid truths hovered like smoke—they both knew:

Something was still there.

Still alive.

And about to be tested by fire.

The slow jazz melted into something livelier—snappier, louder, flirtier. A new rhythm swept across the speakeasy, one that made couples erupt into movement with grins and laughter.

Aurelia’s eyes lit up with mischief.

It was that same grin—the one DJ remembered from years ago—whenever she dared him into trouble: sneaking cookies from Letty’s cooling tray, racing barefoot through the muddy back alleys, climbing trees they had no business being in. That look meant she had a plan. And DJ knew there was no use fighting it.

“C’mon, Black Devil,” she teased, tugging his hand. “Let’s see if you still got it.”

DJ let out a low chuckle. “I don’t dance.”

“You used to.”

“Used to,” he muttered.

But her fingers curled tighter around his, pulling him gently into the center of the floor again. The tempo picked up—brassy, wild, speakeasy swing. People started clapping to the beat, twisting and swaying with infectious energy.

And just like that, DJ followed her.

He hadn’t danced like this in years—not since they were teenagers in Aurelia’s room, moving to the scratchy sound of records spinning on a player. He felt stiff at first, rusty, out of place… but Aurelia wasn’t. If anything, she had gotten bolder.

Her movements were flawless, hips twisting with elegant, feminine rhythm, the cherry-red dress catching light as it swished around her thighs. She spun and dipped, her blonde curls bouncing. Her laughter was like champagne—bright, fizzy, and impossible to resist.

“You’re rusty,” she teased over her shoulder, eyes gleaming.

DJ smirked. “And you got better.”

“I had to,” she said with a wink. “Someone had to show up these snooty girls.”

Then she turned again—and something shifted.

The tempo slowed just slightly. The rhythm grew sultrier.

Aurelia moved her hips in slow circles, rolling with the music. DJ was behind her now, his dark eyes locked on the way her waist moved like it was made of smoke. Without thinking, his hands slid down to her hips. Firm but gentle.

He pulled her closer.

Her back pressed against his chest.

Aurelia gasped softly at the contact—but didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into him, her body fitting perfectly against his. She rolled her hips back into his, the movement sensual, slow, deliberate. DJ’s grip tightened, but he didn’t say a word. Couldn’t.

He dipped his head lower, gliding his nose along the curve of her neck.

Rose and honey.

Exactly as he remembered.

Her scent short-circuited his brain. He closed his eyes and just felt her—soft, full, warm. The little girl he used to sneak into bed with during thunderstorms with was gone. In her place was this woman—this beautiful, strong, utterly magnetic woman.

He was losing himself in it.

In her.

His thoughts drifted back to the night he left. The tears in her eyes. The first and last kiss they shared. How soft her lips were. How sweet she tasted. How he had craved that taste every day since.

Was it still the same?

Did her lips still taste like hope?

Then—

“DJ,” a voice cut sharply through the music. A hand grabbed his arm.

Aron.

His face was serious, his usual calm shaken. “There’s trouble.”

Just like that, the world snapped back into focus.

The music still played. The bodies still danced. But DJ’s moment with Aurelia had shattered.

He exhaled slowly, reluctantly releasing her hips.

Aurelia turned around, slightly breathless. “Is everything okay?”

DJ’s jaw clenched. His voice was low, rough. “Not sure. I gotta go.”

Aurelia nodded, eyes searching his face for a clue—something. But DJ was already stepping back, giving her one last glance that said more than words ever could.

Then he turned and followed Aron into the smoke and shadows.