Gemotions

The string quartet’s rendition of “Canon in D” seemed to fade into a muffled hum. Amelia’s breath hitched. Across the crowded dance floor, bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights, stood Daniel. He was laughing, that familiar head-thrown-back-against-the-ceiling laugh, and the sight of it stole the air from her lungs. She gripped her champagne flute a little tighter, the cold glass a small comfort against the sudden heat that flushed her cheeks.

Her carefully constructed façade of nonchalance crumbled. She had rehearsed this moment, mentally, a hundred times, but the reality was so much more potent. His dark hair, slightly longer than she remembered, caught the light, and his smile… it was still capable of short-circuiting her brain.

She told herself to look away, to mingle, to pretend she hadn’t seen him. But her feet, rooted to the spot, refused to obey. The music swelled, the room spun, and all she could manage was a silent, whispered, “Wow.”