William Darcy looked sullenly across the room of wedding go-ers. He saw practically nobody that he knew. He saw his best friend Bing Lee dancing with easily the prettiest girl in the room. She looked genuinely interested in him, laughing and smiling as he swept her across the dance floor. Over by the bar there was a girl trying to flirt her way into getting some alcohol. There were the newly weds sitting at the table smiling consistently as people wished them happiness. Darcy wondered how they could smile so much. Wouldn't it hurt after a while? He decided to leave his secluded corner when he saw some of the more intoxicated women eyeing him, like a vulture to prey.
He never knew what to do when a woman began talking to him, usually if he liked her his words came out jumbled and they left, thinking him stupid or un-opinionated. This was why he liked to plan his encounters carefully, test each word for its reaction for he said it.
When the time came for the garter to be thrown he retreated to the friendly corners. Trying to ensure that he would not have to dance with a girl and spend his thoughts tediously testing sentences it was draining work. Over the other side of the room and unlucky girl had just been smacked in the face with the bouquet. He caught himself watching her. Interesting. He looked back just in time to see the garter come flying, and hit him squarely in the chest.
There was minimal cheering; nobody knew Darcy and this girl didn't seem like the sort to hang out with people like the Gibson's. Panicking, he thread through some conversation starters and generic sentences to get him going.
'You're supposed to lead…' The girl said as he cautiously put his hand on her upper back and gently offered his hand to her. He felt it had gone quite well, he had only stood on her toes once.
Her name was Lizzie Bennet, she was in grad school, it was her sister Jane who was dancing with Bing, and probably her sister Lydia trying to procure alcohol. When the dance was over she dropped his hand before he had a chance to offer her a second round and stalked off to lecture Lydia.
What if she knew? What if she could tell that in his head he caressed her name like it was made from the finest glass? Wouldn't it be better that she never wish to see him again? Then, maybe he wouldn't have to worry about what to say, what to think, how he looked, how he dressed.
By the end of the night he could almost tell where she was in the room without having to look. It was when he walked past her that he said, hoping that she could hear, that Bing Lee had been dancing with the only good looking girl in the room. Yes.
Better she hate him