You swallow the lump in your throat as you navigate yourself through the crowd, your shoulder bumping against strangers as you lower your head. It was your first masquerade, and the thought of knowing no one made your stomach ache.

Anxiety was the death of you, and really didn’t do well in social environments. Your fingers grip your dress as you walk, keeping it up from dragging on the floor or tripping in front of everyone. That would seriously ruin your night. You find a somewhat peaceful corner to hide in, watching the crowd from afar.

All the beautiful dresses flowed effortlessly as women danced, men following their lead while a few exchanged a kiss. It was all so fairytale like, and something you could never find yourself being apart of.

Your eyes lock on a man across the room, seemingly in the same position as you. Awkward, observant, out of place, alone. You couldn’t make out much, but he was tall. His brown messy hair fell against his face as he ran his fingers through it, his jaw sharp against the ballroom lighting.

He was a force drawing you to him. Suddenly, this shit show got a little more interesting. His eyes find yours and you immediately look anywhere else but him. In fact, you turn your whole body around and act like you didn’t even notice him.

You thought your smart idea worked until you felt a warm behind you and a hand gently take yours.

You turn and find him standing before you, his chocolate brown eyes smiling down at yours. He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft and respectful kiss to your knuckles before lowering it. “What’s a beautiful thing like you doing all alone?” He smiles, welcoming and kind. The type of smile most guys don’t give around here.