Twenty
Greyson
T he clinking of glasses and soft laughter rolls over the reception like gentle waves, and I feel a swell of contentment. Trinity’s hand takes mine under the table, a silent affirmation that she’s right here with me. I squeeze, grateful for her presence. This wedding has been a whirlwind of faces from the past, each one a unique reminder of my high school days.
“Hey, Greyson,” Jason Bard calls to me as he navigates the throng of high school acquaintances reunited. The music shifts from nostalgic hits to something more contemporary.
“Jason! It’s been ages.” We exchange a quick handshake.
His wife, Julia, ever radiant, follows close behind, offering a warm smile that hasn’t changed despite the years and the miles.
“Greyson, you remember Julia,” Jason says.
And I do, from the handful of times she visited during college. “Nice to see you again.” I nod. “Trinity, meet Jason and Julia. Jason and I practically owned the basketball courts back in the day.”
Trinity stands, extending her hand gracefully. “It’s lovely to meet you both.”
“Likewise,” Julia replies, her voice carrying the hint of a southern drawl she’s picked up since moving to the States. “We’ve heard so much about you from Tarryn.”
“Good things, I hope,” Trinity teases, and we share an easy laugh.
“Absolutely,” Jason assures her before turning back to me. “So, I hear you’ve been doing well for yourself. Still love living in Paradise?”
“Indeed,” I respond with a chuckle, “and no plans of leaving. How about you? Engineering, right?”
“Yep, down in Texas now. We’ve got three little ones keeping us on our toes.” He glances at Julia, and they share a smile.
“Three kids?” Trinity’s eyes widen. “That must be quite the adventure.”
“Every day’s a new discovery,” Julia says, her laugh light and musical. “But it’s wonderful. Our own little team of engineers in the making.”
“Do you like your work?” I ask, taking a sip from my glass.
“Challenging, rewarding,” Jason answers with a nod. “Keeps the mind sharp, you know?”
I agree, understanding the sentiment even if our fields are worlds apart. A part of me envies his clarity, the straightforward nature of his work and the life he and Julia have created. Everything in my world seems far more complex.
Jason leans in, a curious glint in his eye. “I don’t see Anita here. As close as she was with Penn growing up, I’m surprised she didn’t come. Do you still keep in touch with her?” His question feels like a pebble tossed into the still waters of my past.
“Every now and then,” I admit, swirling the whiskey in my glass. “She’s up to her neck in work over in Toronto now. I think we’re both pretty okay with the space between us.”
That’s true from my perspective, but it occurs to me I’m not entirely certain whether that’s true for Anita or not. She does reach out every once in a while, but she’s also the one who left. Who knows what she’s thinking? I never really did.
I glance over and realize Trinity knows nothing about that chapter of my life. She probably deserves to, but this hardly seems the time. There’s no need to complicate this night. I’ll have to circle around to that later.
As Jason nods, Julia and Trinity excuse themselves to the bar for a moment. I appreciate how easily Trinity fits into this tapestry of old friends.
Before another word can pass between Jason and me, Jody Meyer appears. “Greyson, you won’t believe it, I see your great-great grandfather’s portrait every day!” She punctuates each word with a tap on my arm.
“Really? That’s…great,” I manage. What on Earth is she on about? “He was quite a character, from what I’ve heard.”
“Absolutely! The true first mayor of Paradise,” Jody gushes, her fingertips brushing my shoulder. She goes on and on about her new position with the city, weaving in family lore that she must realize I already know.
I nod along, acknowledging her words with a polite smile. Her touches are frequent, lingering, a contrast to the casual nature of our conversation. And while I’m flattered, my mind drifts back to Trinity, whose presence grounds me amidst the whirlpool of this wedding reception turned high school reunion.
“Anyway,” Jody continues, oblivious to my wandering thoughts, “it’s such an honor to be working for the city, especially when there’s so much history staring right back at me!”
“Sounds like you’ve found your niche,” I reply.
Jason has faded away—can’t say I blame him—and I scan the room as subtly as I can, hoping Trinity will catch my eye and rescue me from Jody’s relentless enthusiasm about municipal affairs. But when I find her, my heart clenches. Dan Tucker, with his too-wide smile and wandering hands, is leaning in a bit too close to Trinity for comfort.
“Jody, I’m sorry to cut you off,” I interject. “But please excuse me.” My focus narrows on Trinity, her laughter ringing out even as Dan leans in again. My stride quickens, each step fueled by the need to reclaim what’s mine.
Dan’s laugh carries over the music until he spots me approaching and steps back, his smile faltering. My hand finds the small of Trinity’s back, a silent claim that sends an unmistakable message.
“Care to dance?” I ask her, although it’s not really a question.
“Thought you’d never ask,” Trinity replies, her eyes sparkling.
As we move onto the dance floor, the DJ shifts gears, and the pulsing beat mellows into something slower. Trinity slides into my arms, and it’s like coming home. Her head rests against my chest, and I breathe her in, letting the world fade away.
“Jody informed me in the bathroom that she’s taking you home tonight,” Trinity murmurs against my shirt.
“Is that right?” I chuckle, the absurdity of the notion making it easy to dismiss. “Well, she’s going to be disappointed.” Visions of high school pettiness flash through my mind, reminding me why those days are best left behind.
“Did you tell her you’re here with me?” Trinity asks, tilting her head up to meet my gaze.
“No,” I admit. “But only because she was too busy talking about herself.” I tighten my hold around her. “Regardless, I wouldn’t go home with anyone but you.”
“Good,” she says, her tone light but her eyes serious. “That’s exactly what I want.”
The song ends, but we linger on the dance floor, reluctant to break the connection. Trinity’s laugh is like music as she shifts and catches Jody’s eyes boring into us from across the room. My hold on her tightens yet again .
“You don’t need to mark your territory,” she teases.
“Maybe not,” I say, “but I want everyone here to know you’re with me.” My lips find hers in a kiss. Her knees buckle slightly, and she leans into me, her laughter melting into a soft sigh against my mouth.
“Dan didn’t seem to care when I told him you were my boyfriend,” she says after a moment.
“Flirting with my girl right in front of me?” I shake my head, feeling the heat of irritation flare up again. Trinity’s hand slips inside my jacket, tracing the spot where metal pierces my skin, and everything else fades away. “I’m only going home with one person tonight,” she whispers, and I grow taller, stronger, invincible.
As the evening wears on, we eat cake and dance, and eventually, the bride and groom return to the center of the dance floor. Frankie, glowing and beautiful in her wedding dress, calls for the single women to gather for the bouquet toss. Trinity hangs back with Tarryn, both clearly uninterested in the outdated tradition.
“Come on,” I urge softly, amused by her reluctance.
“Only because you asked.” She rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her lips, a smile just for me.
Jody and her friend are jockeying for position at the front, elbows ready. Frankie launches the bouquet into the air. It arcs gracefully, a silent ballet of petals and ribbon, and then chaos erupts. Jody leaps like she’s going for a game-winning catch, fingertips brushing the bouquet, but it’s Trinity who ends up with it in her hands, looking as shocked as if she’s caught a live grenade.
“That’s not fair!” Jody’s protest cuts through the laughter and cheers, but I barely hear it over the thundering of my heart. The way Trinity holds the bouquet, like a hot potato she can’t wait to get rid of, only makes her more endearing.
Penn’s got a cheeky glint in his eye as he motions for Frankie to drape her leg over his lap. I smile as my best friend gingerly, with exaggerated slowness, inches his hand up her thigh amidst an uproar of hoots and hollers. The crowd is eating it up, and when he triumphantly brandishes the garter, the DJ jumps in on cue, calling for all the single guys to gather ’round.
“Go on, Grey. Show ’em how it’s done.” Trinity nudges me. She knows just how to push my buttons.
I join the jostling crowd of bachelors, feeling a bit ridiculous. But when the garter soars through the air, instinct takes over. I’m leaping, reaching— Got it! The fabric bunches in my fist, and I land amidst laughter and backslaps.
“Looks like someone should put a ring on it!” Tarryn calls. The room erupts into a fresh wave of chuckles just as Beyoncé’s iconic anthem fills the space. I can’t resist pulling Trinity close for a dance, laughing all the while.
As the night winds down, Penn and Frankie make their rounds, saying heartfelt goodbyes. Frankie pulls Trinity into a hug. “Promise me we’ll see each other soon?” she whispers.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Trinity assures her.
“Take care of him for us, will ya?” Penn claps me on the shoulder with a grin.
“I’ll do my best,” Trinity replies.
As they move on, I find myself holding Trinity a little closer than before, aware of the symbolism of catching the garter and bouquet and not blind to the expectant looks from our friends. Yeah, pressure might be mounting, but looking at her, I know everything’s right where it’s supposed to be—for now.
I’m still riding high on the laughter and camaraderie as Trinity and I make our way through the dimly lit parking lot a little while later, her hand warm in mine. The cool night air refreshes after the heat of the packed reception.
“I’m going to take this bouquet to my mom in the morning,” she says, glancing down at the unexpected trophy in her other hand.
“Your mom will love that,” I respond, unlocking the car and holding the door open for her .
She slides into the seat gracefully, the scent of her perfume lingering as I close the door and walk around to the driver’s side.
The engine hums to life, and we pull out onto the quiet road. Streetlights cast soft pools of light that dance over Trinity’s features. She turns to me, her eyes curious. “So, what was your favorite part of the wedding?”
“Seeing all the guys from the basketball team, hands down,” I tell her. Memories of games won and lost, the sound of sneakers squeaking on the polished gym floor, and the roar of the crowd flood back to me. It’s a bittersweet nostalgia, knowing those days are long behind us. “It was great catching up, seeing where life has taken everyone.”
“Are many of them still around Paradise?” she asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Actually, not many,” I admit, taking a turn that leads us onto the main road toward home. “Most have moved away for jobs or family. You know how it is—small towns aren’t for everyone.”
She nods.
Paradise, for all its charm, can sometimes feel too small, too familiar. Tonight, though, the town feels just right—full of memories, old friends, and the promise of new beginnings. As we drive under the canopy of stars, I think about how, despite everything, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than here with Trinity, in our little piece of Paradise.
We pull up to my building and park in my spot in the garage. The engine ticks as it cools in the quiet of the night. The bouquet—a vibrant tangle of colors—rests in Trinity’s arms, but her expression is thoughtful, distant. I wonder if she’s thinking about what comes next because I know I am. Tonight felt like a glimpse into a future I didn’t know I wanted, and now, I can’t imagine letting it slip away.
We take the elevator up, and I follow Trinity out into the hallway and down to her mom’s condo. As soon as we enter, Trinity escapes into the bathroom. When the door opens again, she steps out in her PJs, her face fresh and clean, free of the makeup that had accentuated her features earlier in the evening. There’s something comforting about her natural beauty, something real that draws me to her every time.
“Greyson,” she says, “we should stay here at my mom’s place sometimes. It could be fun, a little change of scenery.”
“Sure,” I reply. The truth is, the thought of being anywhere without her feels foreign now. The familiarity of our own space, our routines, they anchor me in a way that’s hard to explain. “Let’s head upstairs tonight, though.”
She nods, and when we reach my place, the need for sleep nearly overwhelms me. It’s been a long day. In the bedroom, the moonlight spills across the bed, casting a pale blue hue over the sheets. I change and slip under the covers, feeling Trinity’s body mold against mine. Her breath is a gentle rhythm against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close.
“Today was…” My words trail off. Exhausting doesn’t quite capture the rollercoaster of emotions, the nostalgia mixed with an underlying current of something new, something that’s been growing between Trinity and me.
“Long,” she finishes for me, her voice thick with sleep.
“Very long,” I agree, and there’s nothing left to say after that.
Our breathing synchronizes, the rise and fall of our chests creating a harmony that lulls us toward rest. As sleep claims me, the day’s events replay in my mind like a silent film—the laughter, the dances, the subtle glances—all winding down to this quiet moment. Despite the pressures and expectations of those around us, what matters most is right here, in this embrace. And that means I need to reevaluate our future. Because, with Trinity, I am home.