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The vaulted ceiling is adorned with crystal chandeliers, their glow highlighting the colorful sea of dresses and suits filling the room. Tables are lined up around the room, draped in silky white tablecloths with beautifully arranged floral bouquets in the middle.

I spot a bar to the left, and across the other side of the room, people are already dancing on the wooden parquet floor in front of a small stage.

“Wow,” I gasp, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter in a tuxedo. “I didn’t know it looked so nice on the inside.”

Hayden declines the champagne and grunts unhappily. “My family renovated it a while ago. The previous ballroom was dated, and I guess they wanted it to look more extravagant.”

“It’s impressive,” I say, and I mean it.

When Hayden is silent, I gently pull him into the room with me, spotting the table farthest away from the crowd and steering us in that direction. I set my clutch down and take a big sip of the bubbly champagne, my gaze wandering across the room.

“What’s the game plan?” I ask Hayden. His expression is unreadable, but he’s squeezing my hand tighter than before.

“Drink, mingle, dance. Once everyone is slightly tipsy, we can seek out the mayor and my dad,” he says, sounding nonchalant, but I detect a hint of worry in his tone.

“You want to dance?” I ask skeptically.

He shrugs. “Isn’t that what people do at events like this?”

“You don’t seem like the dancing type.”

“I’m not, but I think I’d like it with you,” he says with another appreciative glance at my body.

My heartbeat picks up, but I try to ignore it. “Should we get you a drink then? You’re clearly not a fan of champagne.”

He nods and leads me across the room to the bar. While I take in the people around us, Hayden seems to avoid everyone’s gaze, not acknowledging anyone we pass.

I see curious looks being thrown our way, people frowning when they see Hayden, some flickers of surprise at our intertwined hands. While the older people’s faces are marred with judgment, I don’t miss how some of the women my age blatantly check him out.

An unreasonable wave of jealousy sweeps over me, and I decide to mirror Hayden and stare straight ahead.

When we get to the bar, there are a few people in front of us, and Hayden gently removes his hand from mine, wrapping his arm around my waist instead while we wait our turn.

I gently lean into him and try to keep my tone light when I say, “I’m not sure how many people actually want to mingle with us.”

He chuckles, his body vibrating next to mine. “No?”

“If I read the looks we’ve received so far correctly, everyone here either wants to fight you or fuck you,” I whisper.

He hums and pulls me closer to him. “I’m used to that.”

“You seem unbothered,” I remark, glancing up at him.

He shrugs. “I’m here with you. I couldn’t care less about everyone else.”

My heart warms again. He needs to stop saying things like that or I’ll definitely be one of the women here who wants to jump him. But who am I fooling? I already am one of them.

When it’s finally our turn, I order a vodka cranberry, and I’m surprised when Hayden asks for the same.

“I didn’t expect you to order that,” I say.

“I don’t care. I was going to have whatever you have. I like anything but champagne.”

“What’s your beef with champagne?” I ask as we step to the side to wait for our drinks so the couple behind us can order.

“Well, the flutes feel ridiculous to hold,” he says, looking at me like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And champagne is for weddings.”

“Why is it only for weddings in your mind?”