Theory [TOM HOLLAND]

SIXTY FIVE

REAL LIFE.

mel sits at one of the tables draped in ivory silk off to the side. her heels have been kicked to the side and the warm grass tickles the bottoms of her bare feet. the wedding has begun to unwind into the night, people laughing and dancing in the faint glow of the setting sun. it's nearly night, and the stars are swimming in the clouds. her job is done, so she leans back in her folding chair and watches.

seb and june are on the dance floor together. even though the band is playing some pop eighties cover, they're slow dancing, feet gliding together to a rhythm only they can hear. mel can see the threads of gold disappearing into the folds of her dress and the flutter of june's lashes as she closes her eyes and leans forward to rest her head against seb's shoulder. the smile that rests at the corners of her lips is so soft that it makes some piece of mel ache.

watching them, despite how happy she is and how beautiful everything is, there is something hollow inside her, some slowly burning hunger.

and mel wants. she wants the damp summer air and the taste of vanilla frosting on her tongue and the way sebastian's fingers rest on june's wrist. she wants.

she has waited every year for something to fill this emptiness inside her and take away the wanting. now, realizing she will wait another year and maybe another and maybe dozens more makes her stomach clench with something white hot and ravenous.

she swallows hard, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. she looks away from june and seb. the air suddenly feels too hot and damp and her dress sticks to her skin. she needs air.

mel stands, when someone clears their throat.

she turns to see tom, half illuminated by the candlelight. he's wearing his tuxedo, with a carnation in his buttonhole the same color as her dress. the light casts shadows over his face, filling the hollows of his cheekbones with violet. his hair is rumpled and his cheeks are flushed from excitement, and her heart fumbles in her chest.

"mel," he says with a slight half smile. "hi."

damn him. damn that smile.

"hi," she manages.

"are you enjoying the wedding?" he asks.

she nods. mel looks down at their feet, to her bare toes and his black dress shoes, one of them untied. she tries not to look at him. his hair is starting to curl just above his eyebrow and her fingertips burn with the desire to brush it back.

his gaze shifts from the grass beneath them to her face and back again.

"uh, where's arjun?" he asks tentatively, almost flinching when she opens her mouth to answer.

"not sure. last i left him he was at the buffet juggling three plates of popcorn shrimp at the same time. it was vaguely impressive."

"so he's not—you're not—"

"no," she finishes. "and nina? where did she end up?"

"i don't know either, honestly."

"you don't seem too broken up about it."

"i'm not."

"i feel like i should defend nina's honor."

he has the decency to look ashamed.

she smiles, though. softly at first, then big enough that her cheeks ache. he looks up at her and bites his bottom lip, eyebrows furrowed.

"um, i was wondering i-if you would maybe want to. . . dance with me?" he asks, rubbing his jaw.