Sage’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment. He shouldn’t have assumed. Most people did that about him as it was, but the difference between Sage and his new acquaintance was that Sage never corrected them. “Sorry, I—” Sage breathed a quick sigh relief at the abrupt observation. “Well, you’re not wrong. I’m pretty sure this is the singles table.” He gestured at the nameplates buried beneath discarded cloth napkins and wedding cake crumbs. “Or rather, everyone that just didn’t have a spot at other tables. Neutral territory.” Unfortunately, the rest of the exiles weren’t around to concur. Sage grinned gently. How someone could go from a pathetic, wallowing ex to an extrinsic dance aficionado in one crooked smirk was beyond him. Maybe it was the champagne, but color Sage fucking impressed. “Definitely not fair,” he agreed. His father wouldn’t approve of him wasting precious dancefloor, no matter where he was at. So after a moment, Sage scooted his chair back and stood, stars tingling inside his brain. Now, the DJ wasn’t spinning Whitney, but it was as good a song as any to dance to. The drums kicked in and Sage extended his hand. “Let’s give them a show.”
It was spastic. Wild limbs and the messiest jive Sage had ever done in his life, but somehow it was the most fun he ever had. And best of all, they’d caught the ex’s attention. Sage took his dance partner’s hand and spun him towards his chest, before dipping him as the song came to a close. “Sage by the way,” he panted.
Leo was never one to sulk, especially when in the company of other attractive men, and especially not when there was an opportunity to dance. Their movements were so rapid, Leo’s eyes didn’t even get the chance, even if they’d wanted to, to appear at the table that had been his primary focus just moments ago.
Leo balanced his palm atop his dance partners shoulder, balancing himself as he was spun toward him. Slightly breathless, a small smirk formed his lips. A beat passed, before his fingers closed over Sage’s hand, making a point to spin himself back. Their hands remained entwined, and Leo leaned forward into a half bow. “Leopold.” He was tipsy enough to tack on, like Kate and, but who knew if this man had taste other than those dance moves? Out of the corner of his eye, he could see figures rise from the other table, heading off toward the far corner of the room. Presumably to the open bar.
“Or Leo, if this dance makes us friends.” He added, smoothly, the smug satisfaction weighing all of his movements. He let their hands slowly drop as the song faded into another. “Though I should warn you, I don’t normally label things until at least the third dance.” He smoothed out the lapels of his suit jacket. There would be no doubt all eyes were on them. Good.
“I think I might need another drink first.” He offered his arm, raising an eyebrow as he tilted his head to the side. Care to join me, or do you have other plans?”
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