Gemotions

The champagne flute felt heavy in Amelia's hand, almost vibrating with the pulse of the music. She'd chosen a dress that screamed "I'm doing spectacularly," a crimson silk that swirled around her ankles with every forced smile. Then she saw him. Liam. Across the crowded dance floor, laughing with someone, his hand briefly resting on her arm. Amelia's stomach did a sickening flip. It was the way he always looked at her; a look that implied amusement and fondness, both of which felt like a slap in the face now.

She took a large gulp of the champagne, the bubbles doing little to soothe the sudden heat rising in her chest. She wanted to scream. Instead, she plastered on a smile that felt like a death mask and turned abruptly, intending to find the bar. She needed something stronger.