Dark fabric returned to bare shoulder, slow enough to make the correction feel less like modesty than decision. One inch reclaimed. Then another. Freehand nearly lifted before the movement completed itself, impulse caught beneath the cuff and redirected toward the stem of the champagne flute instead. No touch. No assumption. Only the quiet tightening of fingers around crystal's stem, gold climbing the inner curve before falling back into place, exposing what the rest of the body carried all too well.
❝ Distance does have its uses. Gives silence enough time to start sounding convincing. ❞
Flute lowered. The old warmth remained at both ears, faint beneath dark hair, impossible to blame entirely on the room now. One measured step followed. Closer. Not enough to crowd. Not enough to touch. Only enough to challenge that same distance that had once been permitted to speak. Close enough for the next words to belong nowhere beyond the small distance near those almond eyes.
❝ Did it? ❞
Gaze held there directly, the question much more tender than the closeness suggested, careful even now not to turn provocation into an answer. A shallow impression surfaced beside the mouth, familiar enough to feel cruel. Something quieter. Something carrying caution beneath the curve and refusing to name the bruise underneath. Fingers reached for the stem beneath burgundy nails, gradual enough for refusal to remain possible, lightest brush of skin arriving before crystal changed hands. The flat champagne disappeared onto a passing tray, a fresh flute replacing it moments later.
❝ ...Give enough time to decide? ❞
the brush of his fingers against hers sends a jolt through her, electric and unwelcome. she inhales sharply, the scent of his cologne filling her lungs, familiar and foreign all at once. the fresh champagne flute feels heavier than it should, condensation cool against her palm. she doesn't pull away. not immediately. lets the moment stretch, lets the warmth of his touch linger just a second too long before she finally takes the glass, her fingers curling around it like armor.
"it did," she says, voice barely above a whisper. the words taste like a lie, but she swallows them anyway. "more than enough." her eyes flick up to meet his, dark and unreadable. the dimple at the corner of his mouth is a cruel reminder of all the times she'd traced it with her fingertips, all the times she'd let herself believe it was meant for her.
she takes a sip of the champagne, the bubbles sharp against her tongue. "funny how time works," she muses, tilting her head slightly. "some things fade. others just… fester." he strap of her dress stays firmly in place this time. no more games. no more invitations. she's spent years building these walls; she won't let him tear them down with a single glance. "but i suppose that's the risk you take," she adds, her tone lighter now, almost careless. "when you let silence do the talking."
she doesn't wait for his response. turns her attention back to the painting, the colors blurring slightly at the edges. the gallery noise swells around them, a cacophony of laughter and clinking glasses. it's easier this way. safer.
look away. walk away. just like before.
but her feet stay rooted to the spot. then a memory burned in her brain, moments fading in and out like a movie. bodies closer. lips colliding. hands reaching. she inhaled, exhaling shortly when she began to walk away. "you coming? i want another drink."
