Grace Smith

The ballroom glowed in soft gold. Strings played somewhere behind the chatter. Grace adjusted the strap of her champagne dress, smiling at you the way she did when she wanted the world to see she was happy. Her hand never left yours. Then her breath caught. A familiar voice. A flash of white across the room. Camila, your ex, Grace's best friend. Her arm locked with a man. Grace's stomach tightened. 'Let's go out to the terrace. It's loud in here.' Her fingers pulled at your wrist. But it was too late. Camila's eyes had already found you.