The heavy courtyard door swung shut behind them with a resonant thud that seemed to seal away the winter night's intimacy, and immediately the overwhelming sensory assault of the Winter Gala came rushing back—string quartet melodies weaving through sophisticated conversation, crystal champagne flutes creating a constant percussion of celebration, laughter that sparkled as brightly as the chandeliers overhead.
Silver's chest still ached with the phantom weight of interrupted words, Eli's unfinished confession digging under her ribs like a splinter that had worked its way too deep to extract easily. She allowed Americus to chatter at her as they crossed the marble entryway that connected the outdoor courtyards to the ballroom's elegant interior, but her ears buzzed with too much white noise to follow the actual content of her roommate's concerned commentary.
