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“Scott told me you needed a date for your cousin’s wedding,” he spluttered as he extended a hand out towards his fictional date, Lydia. She was gorgeous, he couldn’t deny it. Though, he wouldn’t tell Scott that he was right.
He mentally cringed when he noticed her doing the painfully obvious lookover. He shuffled his feet below him, his dress shoes squeaking against the polished tiled floors. He didn’t realize he’d been holding a breath until he finally heard her speak.
“I’m Lydia! You’ll do,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow as he offered his arm.
“I’m kidding. You look nice, thank you for coming,” she reassured him.
“I don’t usually do this, but I’m in college, and they’ve been pestering me about boys, so I just wanted to get them off my back. Do you dance at all?”
“Not usually, but if you wanted to, I’d oblige. I’m your date, do what you want with me.”
That came out wrong. Shaking his head, he rubbed his face. “That’s not what I meant, I-“
Interrupted by a laugh, he turned his head to look down towards his date.
“I understood. So, let’s just say this…we met in college; I was too short to reach some books in the library so you helped me, lifted me, whatever,” he listened to her ramble on as he took in the scenery of the location.
“Is that even credible? Scott tells me you’re quite the independent type.”
“Oh, is that so? What else did he tell you?”
“Not much. Just that you were gorgeous and that I’d probably like you,” he shrugged his shoulders gently.
He couldn’t help but smirk gently at the barely visible blush, creeping onto her cheeks.
- - -
Derek and Lydia made their rounds, greeting and hugging her family members. Some were distant, some were close. He even met her mother. Derek understood immediately where Lydia inherited her sass.
“Did I do okay?” He inquired, warily as he sipped on the cheap champagne. It didn’t do anything for him, but it didn’t stop him from consuming some. It got his mind off trying to impress her family.
Lydia looked towards him and pursed her lips. “Yes, on one last condition,” she grinned.
“And what would that condition be, Ms. Martin?”
“You still have to dance with me.”
Derek inhaled a long breath and nodded. That could be easily done. It was just a dance, right?
“Fine,” he agreed as he scraped his chair out of the proximity of the table. Standing upright, he extended a hand.
Leading her to the dance floor, he turned towards her and smiled. Regardless of this event being entirely fake and new for him, he still felt some sense of happiness. He wasn’t worrying about academics, he wasn’t fretting over work, none of that. He just agreed to escort a beautiful woman to a family wedding and play along. It was more fun than he’d like to admit.
As he swayed to the gentle background music, he rested his calloused hand on her waist and held hers in the other. Leading the dance, he occasionally twirled her around, involuntarily smiling when she giggled.
“You’re actually a pretty good dancer,” Lydia mused. “Who taught you?”
“My mother. She had my sisters and I learn formal etiquette.”
“Ah, you have sisters. That explains a bunch,” she lifted her head from his broad shoulder.
“What do you mean?”
“Just in the fact that you’re gentle, you know how to talk to women, from what I can tell,” she shrugged her shoulders and casually wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
“Thank you, again, for doing this. Knowing Scott, he probably wouldn’t let it go,” she smiled as she lightly waved at their friends, dancing on the other side of the floor.
Derek shook his head, brushing it off. Scott did pester him, but at the end of the day, Derek was glad that he did.
After two songs, he found his arms enveloping Lydia and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to let go.