Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
BIANCA
Why am I so nervous for someone else’s wedding? It’s not like I haven’t interacted with a lot of the guests before. Maybe it’s the fact that this is supposed to be the big main event, the main reason why Waylon and I even started fake dating. Now we’re here and this relationship has gotten way more complicated than either of us planned for.
I resist the urge to jiggle my leg as I sit and wait for the ceremony to start. I’m seated near the front since Waylon is the best man, near some of his family. People are slowly drifting to their seats, but so far I’m alone.
I study the floral arch at the end of the aisle, biting the inside of my cheek so I don’t mess up my lipstick. I need to push anything outside of the bubble of this wedding out of my head. It’s a gorgeous day and the venue is equally beautiful — we’re outside and the reception will be in the fully updated and renovated barn not far from us.
Thankfully Jada and Jeremiah sit down near me and distract me with some small talk. Fifteen minutes later, the officiant comes down the aisle and people settle in their seats.
The only other wedding I’ve been to was Kaitlyn and her husband’s, and hers was on the beach in Thailand with just a few people. Waylon and Jo, Rose’s maid of honor, come down the aisle together and take their places on either side of the officiant. I saw Waylon in his tux earlier, but seeing him again still makes my heart jump in my chest.
He smiles at me once he turns around, making my heart flutter even worse.
Wes comes down the aisle next, and finally, Rose. She showed me pictures of her dress a long time ago, but seeing it in photos didn’t do the dress justice. It’s off the shoulder and hugs her body just enough, the intricate beading catching the light. And the look that Wes gives her, like he can’t believe she’s real, chokes me up a little.
Waylon and I lock eyes every once in a while, but we always break contact after a few seconds. His looks are warm, but I’m not sure if it’s directed at me or if it’s just a general good vibe. His attention drifts back to the happy couple every time.
The ceremony is short and sweet, ending with a kiss that makes some of the older guests tut in disapproval. Rose and Wes leave, followed by Waylon and Jo. Waylon smiles at me again as he passes, and mouths see you in a bit .
Some attendants usher all of the guests to an outdoor area for cocktail hour. The drinks start flowing immediately, along with small bites of food. Jada and Jeremiah keep me company while I wait for Waylon. I’m itching to touch him, just to feel his warmth and get a better look at him in his tux.
Finally he comes around the corner of the barn with John David, chatting.
“My face hurts from smiling for so long,” he says when he approaches me.
“Don’t smile, then,” JD says as he passes by. Waylon laughs, but JD is dead serious.
“I’ve never had to get so many photos taken in my life,” Waylon continues to me. “I don’t think I could cut it as a model, aside from the obvious reasons.”
“You’d actually be good at it,” I say, pulling a hair off his sleeve. “You’re really photogenic.”
“I am?” He looks genuinely surprised.
“You’ve never looked at yourself in a photo?”
“I mean, not very hard.” He shrugs. “I just kind of assumed I looked decent enough most of the time.”
“That’s a very guy answer.” I smile and put my drink down on one of the high-top tables.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” a photographer says. “But I’d love to get a photo of you two if you’re up to it.”
“Sure.” Waylon slides an arm around my waist and pulls me close. My immediate urge is to pose and not smile, but I decide to be a normal person and just…smile. My normal smile instead of the one I’ve perfected for photoshoots.
“Excellent, thank you so much.” The photographer leaves us alone.
Waylon grabs a drink off a tray as a waiter passes by. The DJ starts up some music and a few people start dancing already.
“Just a warning, I’m a terrible dancer,” he says as he looks around at his family.
“Like how bad? Funny bad, or just tragic?” I ask.
“Depends on who you ask and when.” He scans the crowd. “It’ll probably be funny later tonight.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” And it’s been so long since I’ve actually danced at an event rather than sitting around, looking at everyone else.
We don’t have much time to linger, though — the attendants whisk us over into the barn for dinner. Circular tables span half of the space, with the other half being a dance floor with the DJ booth.
We find our names on one of the first tables, alongside John David, Ash, and his parents. I swallow and sit down in between Ash and Waylon. Ash already looks a little drunk, and I can’t tell if John David was or not — his face is just as stoic as always.
“Such a lovely ceremony, wasn’t it?” Delia says when we sit down. She looks pretty in a light blue dress, her dark hair in a chignon.
“It was,” I say. Each plate has a menu on top with various courses, and my spot has a little circle indicating I’m dairy free. I completely forgot to tell Rose, so I’m guessing Waylon is the one who did it.
“I love weddings. This turned out so well too. All the planning Rose and I did really paid off.” Delia smooths her napkin into her lap.
Mr. Stryker just grunts in agreement, throwing back his drink. Ash sighs through his nose.
“What’s wrong already?” Mr. Stryker asks Ash, his tone sharp.
“It’s nothing. Why does it always have to be something?” Ash asks. “I just sighed, for fuck’s sake.”
“We have a guest, Ashley,” Delia says, glancing at me. “Watch your language.”
“You’re an adult, aren’t you?” Ash asks me. I just nod. “She’ll live with me saying a few four letter words, Mom.”
“It’s still impolite.” Delia sips her drink, leaving a light lipstick print on the rim. “Anyway, hopefully we can plan another wedding soon.”
She gives us a not-so-subtle look.
“Mom, do we have to do this?” Waylon asks, clearly uncomfortable rather than flat out annoyed. “We should just focus on Rose and Wes.”
“Fine, fine. Later.” Delia smiles at me. “Plus, you haven’t properly been brought into Jepsen. There are so many ways to get involved. You can fill up all your time and then some.”
I nod, even though the idea of stuffing every minute of my day with activities sounds like a nightmare, especially social stuff. I can sense Waylon’s slight annoyance but he doesn’t speak. But Delia picks up on it anyway.
“What’s wrong with that, Waylon?” Delia asks, exasperated. She looks surprisingly like Ash right now. “Volunteering in town isn’t that big of a deal.”
“It’s nothing,” Waylon says, sipping his water. “It’s fine.”
Waylon and his mom exchange a long, silent glance, and eventually we’re all left with air thick with tension. Did something happen with them that I’m not aware of, or is Waylon just tired of being prodded?
“Let’s welcome the new Mr. and Mrs. Stryker!” The DJ yells into the mic, snapping us out of it.
Everyone cheers as Wes and Rose come out and sit at the head table, smiling and holding hands. The meal starts being served, saving us from awkwardness. Delia switches over to talking about other things like everything it took to plan the wedding, and now I understand why Rose was crumbling under stress. Delia never does anything halfway, and I can see how that could wear on someone if they were constantly pushed to do more.
Waylon’s hand finds my leg closer to the end of the meal, his thumb making little circles just inside of them. My dress hits just above the knee, so his skin is warm on mine, stirring some feelings that I probably shouldn’t be having right in front of his family.
But it does give me an idea to fulfill a bucket list item.
“C’mon,” I say once the last course is over.
“Where?” He takes my hand when I extend it to him. “Hopefully not dancing yet.”
“Just somewhere private.”
The hall looks much more clinical than the rest of the barn, so I’m guessing it’s where catering and other vendors do everything. The space is much quieter than the main hall, but the sounds of partying and music drift toward us.
“Bianca…” His tone is a playful warning.
“Yes…?” I glance at the doors as we walk down the hall. One’s clearly where the food is being made, and the others seem to be in use.
“Are you planning to check something off your bucket list right now?” he asks.
“Maybe.” I squeeze his hand.
I absolutely am. He’s done most of the initiating, and I want to be bold for once. I feel safe enough with him to take risk, even if he’s had his moments of being closed off.
I try the handle of a door labeled “storage”. It opens easily, revealing a supply closet, with shelves of paper towels and toilet paper along one wall. It’s a bit dingy but it’s mostly private and clean.
He pulls me to him and kisses me before I can kiss him, and I press myself against him as much as I can. The heat of his body is addictive, as is the feeling of his lips on mine. It doesn’t even matter that we’re in a closet. It might even be better because of where we are — we’re out of sight but someone could walk in. My heart is racing, the fear and adrenaline rush mingling.
He scoops me up and sits down in the one little seat in the room, resting me on his lap.
“Show me your panties,” he says, pushing the bottom of my dress up.
I help him pull the dress up all the way, showing him the blue sheer panties I chose. He lets out a hum of appreciation and pulls the panties to the side, his fingers finding my clit. I rest my forehead against his as he teases me, our breath mingling.
“I wanted to do this the moment I saw you in this dress,” he says, kissing my exposed shoulder. “It’s like you were made to tempt me.”
I tilt my head back so he can kiss my neck more. I want to be naked, to have him touch my bare skin everywhere, but getting butt naked in a place where I might need to quickly dress is a bit further than I’d like to go.
I reach down between us and start to undo his pants. His cock is already straining the fabric so much that it looks like it’s leaping into my hand when he’s finally free. He lets out a soft breath when I grip his cock at the base.
“So hard,” I say softly, stroking his cock up and down. “All for me?”
“Always for you.” He cups the back of my neck, avoiding the elaborate bun my hair is in, and pulls me into a hot kiss.
My toes curl between the kiss and how he’s playing with my clit. I have to bury my face into his neck, biting my tongue so I don’t moan too loudly. I don’t know if people are wandering the halls, but letting myself get as loud when we’re alone probably isn’t the best idea.
I lift up and guide his fingers toward my entrance. They slip right in, making a slick sound.
“Greedy girl,” he says with a smile. My eyes flutter closed when he strokes the upper wall of my pussy, making me clench around him.
I spread the bead of precum over the tip of his cock and it twitches in my hand. I’ve gotten to know his body just as much as he’s gotten to know mine, and I can tell when he’s getting close to the edge. But I need him inside of me.
“I need to ride you,” I say, coming off his lap and pushing his pants and boxers all the way down.
I take whatever words he was about to say when I slide down onto his cock to the hilt. The fullness still rocks me just as much as it did the first time, like he’s reaching every part of me from the inside.
“Fuck.” He lets his head fall back, thumping against the wall. “So perfect.”
I roll my hips, taking time to find a rhythm that hits my G-spot just right. He holds me close, his hands on my hips and his body pressed to mine. Being chest to chest, his breathing in my ear and my breathing in his, feels so perfectly intimate. We’re in rhythm and I never want to fall out of sync.
He grips my hips and starts thrusting upward, our bodies making enough sound that I hope the music playing can drown it out. I reach down and rub my clit, building up higher and higher. I rest my forehead against his, feeling him tense the way he does before he comes.
I fall over the edge, losing myself in the moment. He murmurs that he’s close and I slide off of him, taking his cock into my mouth. He comes moments later, deep into my throat, and lets out a choked groan.
He slumps in the seat for a moment before helping me up to my feet. I help him up too, a few moments later. His cheeks are flushed and he has a smile in his eyes. My heart is pounding a thousand beats per minute, and the rush of feelings is almost too much for me to take.
Both of us jump when two voices come down the hall, having what’s either an argument or a spirited conversation. Waylon peers out the door before pushing it all the way open. Jada and Ash of all people are walking down the hall, passing us while Jada wildly gesticulates.
They round the corner without seeing us, leaving us alone again.
“I wonder what they’re talking about,” I say.
“Don’t know.” Waylon shrugs. “Knowing both of them, they’re probably trying to one-up each other in one way or another.”
We wander down the hall in the opposite direction, toward a door to outside. Thankfully once we get out there, we have some level of privacy. I don’t know if it’s part of the post-sex high or how close we just felt, but I’m feeling the burst of courage I’ve been needing.
“Do you ever think about us becoming something more?” I ask.
My words leave my mouth right along with the some of the courage I had built up, especially when I feel him shift next to me.
“Like a real relationship?” Waylon asks. His tone is depleting the last of my courage reserves.
“Yeah. I mean…” I swallow. My mouth is suddenly bone dry. “I was just trying to figure out whether I should stay in Jepsen or not.”
“Don’t stay here for me, Bianca. You have bigger things waiting for you,” he says, pushing off the wall. “I don’t know if starting a relationship is something we should do.”
My chest tightens, but I keep my composure. “But why? I know there’s something here that’s worth giving a shot.”
Waylon doesn’t speak for the longest time, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. If I look at him, I’ll crack, and if I crack, I’ll fall apart completely.
“I just can’t right now,” he says softly. “It’s just safer if we end it now.”
“Safer?” I blink, everything inside of me turning to a slow-burning irritation. “ Safer? Not better because you don’t feel the same way?”
“No, I…”
I finally look at him as he runs his fingers through his hair. There’s a war going on in his head, clearly, but to me, it shouldn’t be that hard of a decision. We both know there’s something between us, and flat out denying it for whatever reason is ridiculous. There’s no ‘yes, let’s take it slow’, or anything like that.
The realization is like a knife to the chest. He’d rather choose his fear over me.
I must not be as important to him as I thought.
“Safer for you, maybe. And your feelings,” I continue, my voice wavering. “Even though I thought we had something. And I thought you felt something too based on what we just did. But I guess I was wrong.”
“Bianca, this was never a real relationship. We fooled my mom, and now we can part ways as friends,” he says, his tone almost anxious. “We explicitly said that early on.”
We stop at the intersection of two hallways and come face-to-face with Delia. Her eyes are wide.
She definitely heard him. That was never part of the plan.
“Go handle things with your mom,” I say. “I already know exactly how you feel.”
I heard him say my name one more time as I turn the opposite way and head back inside.