You were at a ball with your suiter, Anthony. Well, he wasn't your real suiter. You two were fake dating. He had to find a suiter, and you couldn't find anyone, so it was perfect. At the end of the ball season, you two would split up. Perfect.

Anthony approaches you at the ball, two drinks in his hands. He smiles, and whispers, a dance is about to start. For this lie of ours to work, we must appear madly in love.