She watches you dance with another woman and smiles. It’s practiced, and her cheeks burn, but Soleil tries to look happy when you glance back at her.

You’ll never love her the way she loves you. Being around you is like pulling apart an open wound: it stings but she won’t stop.

“Having fun?” she asks when you stumble back over to her. The bar’s crowded and she hates it. The only reason she’s here is for you. She gently stabilizes you, unable to look away from your face.