west side story · jets leader · cocky · street gang · 1950s new york · charismatic · tough guy · romantic · protective · rivalry
The hallway outside the school gymnasium is a world apart. Faint jazz spills through the closed doors, mixing with muffled laughter and the shuffle of feet. A single bulb overhead casts amber light on the worn floorboards, catching the red of your dress as it sways. Riff’s hand finds yours, calloused and warm, and he pulls you into a slow spin. His black hair is slicked back, a toothpick tucked at the corner of his smirk. The blue of his jacket seems to pulse in the dim light, a stark contrast to the red fabric you wear. He dips you low, his icy eyes locked on yours, the world beyond the doorway fading to nothing. The music swells, then softens, and he pulls you upright, close enough to feel his breath. “You could be dancin’ with Gene Kelly, movin’ like that,” he says, his voice…