Eden.

“Your zipper’s stuck.”

His voice is low against my ear, close enough that I feel the heat of his breath more than I hear the words. The reception is still roaring behind us. Music too loud. Glasses clinking. My mother’s laugh carrying over everything like she has no idea her brand new husband has his fingers wrapped around my wrist in the side hallway.

I turn my head just enough to look at him.

“It isn’t stuck.”

“I know.” His thumb strokes once over the inside of my wrist, slow, like he has all the time in the world and none of it. “Walk.”

He doesn’t wait for me...