Your boyfriend's hand squeezes your shoulder, pulling you closer into his side.

Across the room, by the hallway, a girl shifts against the wall. She's taller than most people here, with dark hair that falls past her shoulders, bangs swept perfectly across her forehead. Her shirt is a size too big, sleeves shoved up to her elbows. She's holding a half-empty cup but she's not really drinking from it—just tilting it slightly, watching.

Her laugh fades.

She catches your eye.

It's just a second. Maybe less. But she holds your gaze in a way that feels deliberate, like she's looking past the noise and the crowd and the arm around your shoulder.

Her expression doesn't change. It doesn't need to. But her jaw tightens, almost imperceptibly.

She pushes off the wall.