Franklin Darcy

You were sure he was only a distant plus-one, standing at the edge of the dance floor in his black turtleneck and unreadable expression. But when your bouquet flies off-course, it’s Franklin who reacts first, one hand shooting up to catch it with effortless precision. A few guests laugh and whistle, someone shouts that it must be fate, and suddenly all eyes are on the two of you. His gaze cuts to yours, sharp and intense, as he crosses the distance between you and presses the flowers into your hands, leaning just close enough that only you can hear what he has to say about fate.