Chapter Text
Scott hates the suit he’s wearing. He hates that his parents arranged this meeting with a girl he only knows the name of. Tessa, they said. He doesn’t know her but he already hates her. Not that he doubt his parents when it comes to girls he might like – they’ve always been spot on with the past girls he’s dated, figured the reason their relationship would end before he did it himself, but this time’s different. First of all because, well, he knows nothing of her. He couldn’t pick her out in a crowd, couldn’t tell you what her voice sounds like, her laugh, or which color are her eyes. (He’d later learn that they’re a gorgeous green, a light shade that darkened and turned emerald whenever something was troubling her.) Second reason why he despises her without ever meeting her is that he knows she’s from a wealthy family. Just like he is, but he’s not really into the whole flaunting-your-fortune kind of guy. He’s always been more of a simple guy; the kind that works on a truck in his spare time instead of buying cars that would never get through the Canadian winter. The kind that doesn’t like champagne and banquets on a Saturday night, preferring hockey games with his buddies with beers and chips instead. He guess that's she's the complete opposite of him in that department. Probably some daddy's girl who already has five credit cards and buys really expensive clothes. Third is that, because of her, he has to wear this ridiculous suit that he’s really uncomfortable in. The dinner hasn’t even started that he already wants to go back to his place, change his black pants for sweats and remove this tie from around his neck and this itchy shirt. But he doesn’t have a say in this, it seems, so he shuts his mouth and does as he’s told.
It’s another thirty long and excruciating minutes, most of them he spent pulling at his tie to loosen it a bit and relieve him from this feeling of suffocation, before the doorbell echoes through the house. Finally. He thinks to himself because the sooner this masquerade starts, the sooner it ends and the sooner he’s back home in comfortable clothes watching the game he’s missing. So he stands next to his father as his mother opens the door and greets the guests, kissing their cheeks, asking how they’ve been. Even though Scott knows who they are by name and vaguely remembering the adults’ faces from banquets, he can’t place the girl that’s with them, Tessa, their daughter, the one he’s being set up with. She's standing next to her parents in a black dress that hugs her a little too nicely and Scott can't help but let his eyes follow the curves of her body. He knows he shouldn't look at her like that; he doesn't even know her. It's not like he's at a bar where drinks flow, music is loud and bodies are pressed against each others on the dance floor and she's been looking at him for the past twenty minutes as she sips on her drink. She's not asking for that kind of attention; she doesn't want any kind of attention judging by her posture, like she wants to make herself smaller, disappear. He's not even supposed to care about her anyway. He can't deny that she knows how to make a first impression though. Once he comes back to earth and Tessa's father stands in front of him, he shakes the hiss hand, feeling like his is being crushed as strong fingers squeeze it. Then, he kisses her mother's cheeks as she talks about how tall he is now, how much he’s grown since the last time saw him and she takes a second to look at him. He doesn’t know what to do though once he’s in front of her. It’s more awkward than any blind date he’s been on (a few) because there’s no drink he can take a sip from while waiting to find something to say or the right thing to do, no music in the background to at least fill the empty, no waiter to accidentally trip on something, spill pretty much the entirety of the drinks he had on his tray on the girl - he remembers that date a little too well - and bring some action to the evening or anything. She barely looks at him, great, while their parents' eyes are on them, which makes the situation even worse. Now it's his turn to wish he could disappear, not be in this room anymore.
“Hi.” He finally mutters with a little smile. She’s probably as unhappy as he is about this whole situation and that’s the only thing comforting to him at the moment. But then, she looks up at him. That’s when his eyes lock with hers, when he notices how green and deep and gorgeous they are, and he’s taken aback for a second. “Scott.” He adds, holding his hand out to her, which she takes and shakes as their parents are pretending to chit chat but are clearly focused on that first interaction between their children.
“Tessa.” She replies, her voice small as she looks away from him and lets go of his hand. Well, Scott now knows one thing about her, that she isn’t comfortable looking strangers straight in the eyes, the exact opposite of him.
“Nice to meet you.” He says more out of courtesy than anything else, his tone reflecting his mood, earning him a look from his mother who considers it rude; she hasn’t raised her son to act that way. This meeting isn’t something he wanted to happen and, even though he got lost in her eyes for a second there and he's stared at her a little – something he would never admit though, he isn’t happy to be there, to make small talk with that girl. No matter how pretty she is.
“I don’t want this any more than you do.” He whispers once their parents leave them alone, heading to the living room, and he sees relief wash over her. They at least have that in common, if anything. “So I say we pretend for the night, just so they leave us alone and we never have to see each other again after tonight.” A plan to which she agrees. Great.
After an hour of small talk, during which his mother talk about how great her son is, how he has this scholarship and is now studying at this reputable university – as if any of it matters when it comes to relationships and love – they head to the dining room. He sits at the table knowing full well that the next few hours will be painful, torture to him, and judging by the look on Tessa’s face, she's thinking the same.
Here we go.