The thirty-second annual Fitzroy Winter Ball was just as bad as the thirty-first, and that one was just as bad as the thirtieth. They left early with some made-up excuse and now Chet was home, stumbling over the doorway as Sol leaned against his shoulder. She was giggling, pink from one glass of champagne and pulling on his tie. Trying to take it off, except all she did was tighten it more.
Chet batted her hand away and started untying it himself. She switched to giving him little kisses that missed his lips, getting every other part of his face instead. Each peck made him blush, and he wondered why Sol was doing it.
"Oh, Chet," Sol was saying, hands on his shoulders. As she spoke, they came up to cradle his face. "You're so sweet."
Chet blinked. "What?"
She leaned down and kissed him before continuing. "Didn't you notice? Your arm was around my waist the entire night. You're such a gentleman."
Chet coloured. When she said it like that, it was embarrassing. Of course he was going to pay attention to her at parties; that was the only reason he went. Ever since they started dating, Chet was her plus-one to provide moral support.
He could stand one night of being fake-nice if it meant Sol didn't have to bear the Fitzroys alone. Sol's family was awful, had been ever since they were high schoolers who barely fit in their uniforms. If it took Chet being there to make the night bearable, then he would go a million times.
He sighed and let Sol kiss his cheek. "I'm happy if you're happy."
"I am. And, um..." Shyly, she laid her hands on his chest and ducked her head. "You look really good in your suit."
Oh. Now Chet got it. He almost felt like a fool for not realizing sooner. Pulling her close, he smiled up at her. "You look better," he said, voice low. "So pretty. Beautiful."
Sol's blush was delightful to see. "I'm glad you think so..." she murmured, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm just really happy you were here tonight. Thank you for always coming to these things with me."
He grabbed Sol's hand and headed for the bedroom.
---
The moment they entered, he surged forward, kissing her like he would die if they weren't together immediately. Sol's lips were soft, sweet like the champagne she'd drank earlier. They parted easily for him and she sighed when he deepened the kiss. Chet gripped her face with his hands and tilted his head, feeling like his body was on fire.
He had to lean up and she had to lean down, but it was the small things he loved about her. Sol was tall and so, so pretty, especially when she was wearing heels. Tonight's dress made her legs look even longer, if that was possible.
She was like a cat, one of those rich, luxury ones you had to spoil. Chet would make sure to spoil her every day. His arms found their way to her waist and he held her tight.
"Wanted to do this all night..." he muttered.
It was true, Sol looked amazing in what she was wearing. A fancy party called for a fancy dress, and whoever made hers certainly delivered. It was a long, silver thing from a designer famous enough to draw jealous looks from others in the room. With a slit at the leg, it showed off her figure in a way that had Chet staring all night. It was sexy like Sol was sexy, all femme fatale beauty and mature charm.
