Gemotions

The champagne flute trembled in Amelia’s hand, a tiny earthquake reflecting the chaos inside her chest. The cavernous reception hall pulsed with noise – laughter, clinking glasses, the generic pop song blasting from hidden speakers. She’d spent the last hour perfecting the art of avoiding eye contact, flitting from buffet table to potted plant, anything to delay the inevitable. And then she saw him, a flash of familiar dark hair across the crowded dance floor. Her breath hitched.

She needed air. Excusing herself with a mumbled apology to a bewildered bridesmaid, Amelia stumbled towards the open doors leading to the patio. The crisp night air offered a modicum of relief, but her heart still hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She felt the sudden urge to flee, to disappear into the shadows.

He was coming toward her.