AMY’S POV
The heavy double doors of the academic wing clicked quietly behind us as Ryder and I stepped back into the grand ballroom.
For a brief, intoxicating second before we crossed the threshold, Ryder’s large hand tightened around mine, his warm fingers giving my palm a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
I looked up at him in the dim light of the doorway. He offered me a soft, genuine smile before slowly letting my hand go so we wouldn't draw immediate stares from the crowd.
The live jazz orchestra was playing a smooth, upbeat swing number, and the ballroom was still packed with students, faculty, and athletic alumni laughing and drinking champagne.
"Amy!"
Maya’s voice popped out from the crowd. She hurried over to me, holding a glass of sparkling cider, her eyes wide as saucers as she
