“Owen, can you grab me another glass of champagne?” Bethany asked, her voice light but insistent as she handed him her empty flute. She was perched on the edge of a folding chair, her strapless coral dress hugging her curves in a way that made it hard for him to look away. The late afternoon sun filtered through the tent, casting a warm glow on her bare shoulders.

They were at his cousin’s wedding, seated at a table near the dance floor. Bethany was his plus-one, though they’d only been dating a few months. She had a way of commanding attention without trying—her dark hair falling in loose waves, her lips stained a soft pink, and her laugh carrying just a little too far across the room. Owen, in his slightly-too-tight navy suit, felt like he was constantly playing catch-up.

“Sure,” he said, standing a little too quickly. As he turned toward the bar, he caught her glancing at him with a small, knowing smile. “Don’t go anywhere,” he added, half-joking. She tilted her head, her eyes glinting with something he couldn’t quite place. “I won’t,” she replied, her tone teasing. “But hurry back. I might get bored.”