Gemotions

He was here. That fact hung in Leo's stomach like a lead weight. Every conversation, every interaction, felt like a high-stakes audition. He kept his eyes moving, cataloging everyone. He could almost smell her perfume, even before he saw her.

He steered clear of the dance floor, feigning an interest in the floral arrangements, his gaze continually returning to the entrance. He wasn't *scared*, exactly. More like, thoroughly prepared. He rehearsed a casual greeting in his head, the words smooth and practiced.

His shoulders tensed. He saw her. She was talking to someone by the buffet, laughing. He swallowed hard. The practiced greeting evaporated.