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(40) a dance? - trent alexander-arnold

"They are just the perfect couple."

The words rolled off your tongue with such softness, the other guests barely caught it. But one man, one man in particular, did and he flashed a smile in your direction. Pearly whites complimented by the pinkest shade of lips you've ever seen on a person before, his smile was by far the prettiest you've ever seen.

"They are, aren't they?" He said. His eyes flittered between the couple on the dance floor and you, the smile never leaving his lips.

"I'm really happy for them. In this lifetime, you are not guaranteed a love so perfect, so raw, and a love so real."

He settled his shining eyes upon yours, the words hitting a little too close to home. "Never experienced a love like that?"

"No..." You dragged out, chuckling at the end. "Let's just say that the love I experienced was a little too real and too raw, not at all perfect."

"Oh." He breathed out. Both of your eyes shifted back to the dance floor, particularly for you, at their expressive faces. They were staring at each other, an enlarged smile on their faces, as their feet swept them across the slippery floors. It was a simple, elegant dance, not like the ones you watched on 'Strictly Come Dancing'. There was no complicated footwork, no exaggerated twirls and lifts, no judges waiting to score the performance.

It was a simple yet elegant routine, rehearsed for hours on end but the loving feeling remained. If not by their faces and their hold onto each other, but by the way their love spreads throughout the venue.

Clearly, it was spreading throughout the venue as when your and the stranger's hand lightly grazed each other, the fingers reached out for each other. It was instinctive; not like you or him could control it but you didn't stop it. No matter how many times he glanced in your direction and your cheeks reddened or he swung the lifeless limbs between the chairs, you held onto his hand.

"Trent." He whispered, leaning towards you. His cologne was so strong that it made you want to sneeze but also curl into his chest. "Trent is the name."

Oh. Yes. Names. It never occurred to you — when you struck up a conversation — that first names weren't exchanged. That is how natural it felt with the stranger— or no, it's Trent now.

"Y/N." You responded. "It's nice to meet you, Trent. So tell me, who are you with? The bride or the groom."

"It was nice meeting you too, Y/N." He said, the corner of his sculptured lips reaching new heights. "The groom. I'm actually his brother— his best man— his best buddy."

You don't know why it didn't click into place before when you noticed he wore the exact same suit as the groom, and the other men involved in the ceremony. A navy blue suit fitted for his body, a pastel pink tie and handkerchief contrasting the dark colour and a white rose pinned on the jacket collar. While his tie was looser than usual, he still looked as handsome as ever.

"Aha, I should've noticed that." You said, pointing to the matching ties and suits. He bit on his lip to stop himself from bursting into a smile as he nodded his head, "Now that I think of it, it was kinda obvious."

"Yeah, it was."

"So, Y/N..." He began, your all-so-simple name sounding heavenly in his accent. It sounded different. It sounded foreign. But most of all, it sounded right. Like your name belongs in his mouth, his mouth mumbling out the word. "Who are you with?"

"The bride. We've been close ever since our college days, spent our entire undergraduate years living together. Despite leading different lives, we have managed to stay in contact with each other. Couldn't have asked for much more, honestly."

Trent hummed as he clutched your hand, his thumb curious with the acrylic nails. It wasn't long before he took both of your hands and cradled it in his lap, the other hand encompassing yours.

Just a few seconds— that's all it took for your heart to start beating dangerously quick. For the heat to travel to your cheeks and colour them, enough for Trent to notice and softly chuckle to himself. "Big fan of hand holding?" He asked.

"S-something like that." You stuttered. "It's one of the purest forms of showing affection, don't you think? Love comes in many forms, many languages, many expressions. Hand-holding isn't only a romantically linked action but it can mean a close friendship, a mother-child relationship, anything."

Trent stared at you for a few seconds in awe as the words registered in his head, he pondered over what kind of relationship the two of you had — two strangers who met at a wedding.

"I don't know myself." You answered and Trent stared at you, his eyes as wide as saucers. It was like you could read his thoughts, he wasn't sure on whether that was a good or bad thing.

Just as he was about to say something, something about your telepathic abilities, the DJ announced that the dance floor was open to any or all couples wanting to slow-dance. For the first time of the evening, Trent removed his hand from yours and it felt like a draft. A cold, lonely and empty draft.

He got up and turned around, reaching his arm out to you, "Would you care for a dance?"

"I'd love to, Trent." You said, grabbing onto his hand. Warmth returning to your palm as he intertwined your fingers, kissing your knuckles.

It was a short walk to the dance floor and Trent quickly found you a spot in the middle as he twirled you around once and back into his arms. His hands found refuge splayed on your open back and your hands trailed from the sides of his neck, in towards the back skin not knowing that Trent was feeling the effects. Trent had a little ticklish spot and within seconds, you found it without even knowing that you did.

"This is nice." You mumbled in his ear. The position of your head laid on his shoulder made it easier for him to hear. "I'm glad I met you tonight, Trent."

He hummed in agreement, the chords of 'I Was Made For Loving You' (Tori Kelly feat Ed Sheeran) playing over the speakers. The song was quite fitting for the occasion — speaking about strangers holding hands, finding fleeting love and seizing opportunities when it comes to love that might not be offered again. It was similar— very similar to the situation with you and Trent, a little too bit you would say.

"The feeling is mutual, Y/N. I can't believe that I found such an interesting and lovely person at my brother's wedding, of all places."

You couldn't help but giggle because it was true. Here, you thought it was another wedding that you would be attending, not expecting to possibly fall in love with someone at it. "I hope this won't be the last time that I see you, Trent."

Trent's body stiffened for a short while and you thought you had messed up, ready to apologise when you felt his chest violently shake. As you looked up at him, he was laughing as he lowered his head to look at you, "I hope so too, Y/N. I would very much like to get to know you— at a place that isn't at my brother's wedding."

"Are you asking me on a date, Trent?"

He pretended to look out as he squinted his eyes, "I don't know, Y/N, maybe this is the last time we're going to be speaking."

"Hey!" You scolded playfully. All he could do was continue his giggles as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, closing his eyes at the action.

"Yes, Y/N. I would love to take you on a date sometime."