Gemotions

The champagne flute, clutched in Amelia's sweaty palm, felt like a weapon. Every strained smile aimed at the other guests was a small victory. When she saw Liam across the crowded dance floor, talking animatedly with Sarah, her breath hitched. Good. He was here. He clearly wasn't going to steal her joy. She'd be damned if he did. Amelia tightened her grip on the glass, almost crushing the stem.

Liam's eyes flickered in her direction. He offered a polite, almost apologetic nod. Amelia responded with a lifted eyebrow and a slow, exaggerated sip of her bubbly, holding his gaze just long enough to ensure he knew she was unaffected. A band of fire pulsed behind her sternum.

She found herself gravitating towards the open bar, ordering a double shot of whiskey. Let him see her. Let him see that she was thriving. That she was here, and he was nothing. Another guest approached, offering a polite compliment. Amelia responded with too much enthusiasm, her laughter ringing a little too loud. The whiskey burned a trail down her throat.