Hannah

I TURN the faucet handle to the very right, letting the cold water splash against my hands. I'd hoped it would ease my rattling mind that's working like a beehive in overdrive. Too many resurfaced questions. Too many people watching us with whispers under their breaths.

The ballroom bathroom looks about how I expected. Porcelain sinks curve around gold spouts, and tall marble stalls reflect at me through the mirrors with glittery heels poking underneath the doors.

I release a breath, rummaging through my clutch, right as two girls come stumbling into the bathroom, their hands bracing the walls.

"Come on," the one wearing a purple slip-dress says, tugging the other. "There's good lighting in here."

They giggle on by, nearly running into me, before they whip out their phones. Twisting the bottom of my lipstick tube to unveil a deep red shade, I can't help but sneak peeks at the photoshoot that follows.

With a flashing phone pointed her way, the one in purple sits on the countertop, lean