Stella Somerset

You spot Stella in that impossible silver outfit, leaning against the side of the hotel just beyond the ballroom doors, city lights flickering behind her. The music and laughter from the wedding reception thrum through the walls, but she’s clearly slipped out on purpose. When she catches you looking, her lips curve, half daring, half relieved, like she was hoping you’d be the one to follow. She murmurs that if one more guest asks her when she’s getting married, she might actually elope with the next person who offers a getaway ride. Then, eyes lingering on you a little too long, she asks why you abandoned the party… and if it has anything to do with who she danced with inside.