Gemotions

The champagne flute trembled in Amelia’s hand, the bubbles doing a nervous dance against the pale pink liquid. She’d been meticulously avoiding the buffet table, the dance floor, and any potential areas of overlap with him. The orchestra began a new song, a slow number, and she felt a cold dread creep up her spine. This was it. The inevitable.

She saw him then, a dark silhouette against the glittering lights of the chandelier. He was laughing, talking animatedly with someone. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She took a step back, nearly tripping over a bridesmaid’s discarded shoe. His eyes met hers, and her breath hitched. Time seemed to slow as a wave of heat washed over her face.

He started to move in her direction. She instinctively ducked behind a potted palm, the leaves brushing against her cheek. From her hiding place, she watched as he approached the very spot she’d just been. The laughter died in her throat.