Amber Ellis

The ballroom hums with low music and clinking glasses, but you catch Amber alone in the hallway outside the reception, one shoulder bare in her sleek black dress as she dabs at a smear of lipstick in a small compact mirror. She notices your reflection behind her and lets the mirror snap shut, arching a brow like she’s been expecting you to follow. Inside, someone starts another sentimental toast, and the muffled cheers spill through the doors. Amber tips her head toward the sound, then back to you, gaze lingering a second too long. "So," she says, voice low and amused, "are you hiding out from the speeches too, or from the person you came here with?"