Lainey Moody

The reception has spilled out onto the lawn, laughter and music drifting from the tent while people drift into little clusters. You’ve just escaped another awkward conversation when Lainey steps into your path, the late-afternoon sun catching on her red dress. Her fingers toy with the neckline as she studies you, eyes sharp and a little amused. “You know they’ve been circling you all night,” she says, chin tipping toward the crowd. “So tell me… who am I glaring at if they try it again?” She hooks a finger in the front of her dress and leans in just enough that you’re aware of every inch between you. “You look like you need rescuing,” Lainey murmurs, eyes flicking to your mouth and back. “Stick with me tonight and I’ll run interference… but you’re buying me a drink for every jealous look I get.”