#ofhyp fic

“What do we have here? The Calores! Just married and looking like a dream.”   Goddammit Davidson. Cal waved and raised his hand, politely acknowledging the round of applause after the singer's introduction.   “A little birdy told me you didn’t have your first dance yet.” Tonya winked. “The floor is all yours, honeymooners.”   Ouch! Five fingernails dug into his thigh under the table.   Mare leaned into him so he partially hid her panicked face from the world.   “We can’t,” she whispered furiously. “We never practiced. Do you know how much I trampled over your brother’s feet practicing? We’ll look stupid as shit.”   Cal found her sudden insecurity surprisingly endearing. He lowered his palm pressing it over the back of her hand, so tiny and delicate it made him lightheaded. Her nails dug deeper. Fine, maybe not so delicate.

Excerpt: She wasn’t one hundred percent sure he was watching her doing her routine, and she wouldn’t risk her ego by turning in his direction to check. But she had a feeling, a prickling sensation at the back of her neck as if they had attached an elastic rope to the other; it tensed when they were far, relaxed when they were near.   Just in case, she made sure to look extra good during warm-up. Like Scarlett Johansson in a workout montage by a male director. No funny or unattractive faces as she stretched.

Excerpt: “I see you decided to follow the outfit agenda as planned,” he said coldly because the best defense was an offense.   “I figured I might get probation if I comply with the prison’s dress code.” She extended her bony wrists forward, the vulnerable inner sides facing upward as in surrender, yet her gaze was fierce. “Did you bring the manacles too?” 

Excerpt: “Wait... you didn’t elope?”   Shit. She couldn’t tell Shade everything. It would be a breach of contract. Contracts had been handed out like Halloween candy lately.   “I’m on my honeymoon!” she said way too cheerily.   “Mare, what is going on? Are you okay?”   “Don’t be stupid, Shade. Of course, I’m okay. How else would I be calling you? Can’t a woman talk to her family without turning it into an interrogation?”   “You’re calling me from an unfamiliar number and your phone... Gisa had your phone. And it had a million missed calls from Maven before that woman, Elara, took it from us. Sneeze twice if you’ve been taken against your will.”  

Excerpt: Mare instinctively shielded her face against Cal’s shoulder.   Once the flashes stopped Mare chanced a look.    There were two photographers, one taking pictures and another one recording.    “Thanks, guys. But Mare and I are tired.”   “Of course,” the bald guy with three types of professional cameras hanging from his neck acquiesced. “Your mother was very insistent on getting the shot of the newlyweds walking into the lobby. Any chance we get a few tastefully intimate ones of you going into the Royal suite? No?” He held his palms up, placating whatever Cal had conveyed silently with a face. “Just asking.”