My face burned. I clutched my skirt. Just as the humiliation crested, Elliott appeared, placing himself between us and Samantha like an elegant shield.
"Samantha, the focus tonight is literature and welcoming new members, not fashion commentary," he said calmly, his voice cool and dismissive. "Do enjoy yourself."
Samantha shot him a venomous glare, scoffed, and strutted away.
"Are you alright?" Elliott turned to me, his gaze gentle.
"I'm okay… thank you." His calm presence slowly diffused my embarrassment. We talked about recent books, just like before. He even asked me for a slow dance. But it felt different. His arm maintained a polite distance, and his gaze no longer held those fleeting moments of deep intensity. The subtle ambiguous was gone, replaced only by friendly warmth. I was
