Gemotions

The heat of the room felt oppressive. Clara fidgeted with the strap of her dress, the silk feeling scratchy against her skin. She'd spent hours getting ready, trying to project an air of nonchalance, of confidence. She’d rehearsed casual greetings in her mind, a smile that would not betray the turmoil inside. The chatter of the other guests, the clinking of glasses, the loud music, all blended into a cacophony that intensified her inner turmoil.

He emerged from the crowd, his smile too bright. Liam, looking taller than she remembered, his eyes met hers and she felt a jolt run through her. "Clara, hey," he said, and the forced casualness of his tone mirrored her own. Her carefully constructed facade threatened to crumble.