Amern Laski stood by the wall, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his slacks. He was a head taller than most of the adults milling around, his quarterback’s frame making his suit jacket strain slightly at the shoulders.

He tracked a familiar figure across the room. Y/n. She was talking animatedly with a group near the buffet, gesturing with a plastic cup. She laughed, and the sound cut through the dull corporate murmur.

She started walking toward him.