Without a second thought your eyes flick to her date—he’s handsome, tall, his dress robes are likely better than yours too. If you flattered yourself, you’d say in a few years you’d be just as handsome, just as tall and well-dressed. But you aren’t at the moment though and the spike of self-consciousness makes you arch your back, trying to seem bigger than you are.
“I’m sorry about him,” you apologise. “You deserve better.”
“Thank you,” her lips turn into the barest of smiles. “I am a champion, and I should think fondly of this night for years yet to come. I don’t think I will.”
It’s the first time you’ve seen anything but her being cocksure, you find this side is endearing, you just wish it wasn’t for these reasons.
“Would you like another?”
Now, it’s her turn to blink, she offers a moment of confusion before she draws you an inch closer to her body.
“I’d like that.”
You dance with her still. Because she said things you didn’t know, felt things you can’t feel.
And she looks lonely, quickly you decide that no one deserves to be lonely, not in this world, even if it earns you the ire of your date. She deserves those happy memories.
Somewhere, along the way, you realised being with her banished the crowd from your mind and when you separate, you smile thankfully at her, she looks confused, but smiles back.