Chapter 17
Bear
Arriving at the club is a whirlwind. People line up for a chance to get in, while a decently-sized group waits around just to see who comes in. They're roped off, but I hold Pen close as we're admitted, just in case.
I expect things to calm down once we reach the VIP section on the second floor, but they don't. Our friends bribed someone and they play the wedding march as we take the last few steps.
They laugh and applaud around us on the mezzanine, as Pen and I steal glances at each other in shock. People on the first floor whoop.
I can't imagine how this would have gone, had they not known this is a fake wedding. They're acting like they forgot.
We're still processing their welcome and the amount of wedding-related decorations hanging about the space, when Evie and Saint approach us.
Soon, Pen wears a fake veil and a sash reading Bride To Be.
At the same time, I get a sash of my own that reads Groom To Be, and a small flower arrangement gets clipped to my chest.
"You're not the first to get married in the group." Saint accommodates the flowers on my lapel with a focused look on his face. "But you're the first we get to have a party like this for."
"I thought this was going to be like any other night," I complain.
"You're getting married at the end of next week." Dom reaches us and hits my back. "Of course we're going to make a big deal about it."
The club keeps a dim light everywhere but, here on the open second floor, recessed purple lights cast a moody glow. Different sitting sections live tucked against the back building wall. A mix of booth-type sitting areas, tufted sofas and chairs, and a sprinkling of small tables furnish the space.
Evie, Nat, and Ames take Pen to one of the sitting areas, not bothering to explain why. The guys take me to our own area and sit around me.
"Do I have to wear this?" I point at my sash and flowers.
It feels a bit too close to what I would have wanted, had I been going into this thinking it would be my only wedding.
Fuck, seeing the ring on Pen's hand had me biting back feelings I don't know what to do with.
"Absolutely," Saint says, unaware of the thought running through my head.
"You have to," Logan argues. "Especially once you consider what Evie told me. She said that half the people outside— and probably most of the people in here— want to take a good look at us. Something about wanting to be around the championship-winning team."
"They'll take pictures of us," Dom adds. "Put a few videos on social media. You want all the parents in the world to think this wedding is real, don't you?"
I nod. Club staff show up with shots and drinks. One small glass lands in my hand, another on the table in front of me. Everyone around has a small drink of their own.
"I will not get drunk," I say.
"This is just a toast," Dom says.
Saint stands up and lifts his glass up high. "I'll keep it simple tonight."
The group told us Saint would read a little speech from everyone for the wedding reception. It seems he took the role seriously, and is stepping up for a few words tonight as well.
The wide receiver dresses boldly, and this outfit is no exception. His pants are tight and tailored in a lilac tone, while his shirt is printed in dark purple tones, unbuttoned at his neck into a deep v-neck line, and with lots of volume to contrast with the tight bottoms.
He grins at both groups, and speaks loudly enough we can all hear him. "Thank you for attending the first bachelor-slash-bachelorette party of the best friend group in the Thunderdome, home to our winning team, place of daring bets, and many little stories with our loved ones."
"Hear, hear," Evie exclaims.
"I'm endlessly grateful for you all," Saint says, "and for the opportunity Pen and Bear are giving us tonight. It's not every day that we get to celebrate a wedding like this. Damián and Nat skipped it altogether, and Logan is too grumpy to let us put a sash on him."
"Not that we're not going to try," Dom taunts.
"I'll make him!" Evie laughs.
Logan frowns, but there's humor in the line of his mouth.
"In any case," Saint continues, "let's have fun tonight.
A wedding is coming up, and it's a special one.
Pen and Bear have been friends for longer than some rookies have been alive.
I know we're all very, very excited to attend and see them take the friendship as far as you can go.
Congrats on getting hitched and saying 'I do', Pen and Bear. We love you. Cheers!"
"Cheers!" Everyone joins in.
I take my shot and steal a glance at Pen. She smiles. She glows. She looks stunning. The ring isn't clearly visible from my spot, but I'm hoping I'll see it shimmer in the distance. It brings somersaults to my insides when I do.
I clean my mouth with the back of my hand. "Suspicious. Why did you say you're all very excited to attend?"
"I've never been a groomsman," Dom says.
"Our suits are incredible," Saint adds, sitting with the group again.
I squint. They smile and don't add anything else.
I turn to Logan. "What's going on?"
He smirks. "We're wondering how real everything is going to look."
I raise my eyebrows.
"Remember last year?" Damián asks. "When we were doing our intervention with Saint about Ames. You got really angry when I implied you and Pen might be in love."
I remember. We were in a private penthouse party after winning the Conference title. Saint had needed a push to get things right with Ames. As we talked, Damián suggested there might be something beyond friendship between Pen and I.
Back then, I made myself big. I turned my body into a wall, the kind to keep that line of thinking at bay and away.
It was crucial a year ago, and it's crucial today.
The moment Pen or I give in to the pressure and ask those questions— and I know that would be me— the friendship is no more.
Entertaining the notion can be enough to change everything, and I can't risk that.
It's something I'm quickly re-learning. Something I need to get tattooed on my skin in a whole new way.
"You may have fallen in love with your best friend," I tell him. "Doesn't mean I am in love with mine."
A long time ago, when we kissed, I got too close to these questions for comfort.
I might have asked, and I might have tried, if only because for the briefest moment, I felt something.
She immediately corrected the course, with the way things went.
I've never let myself forget, and I've never asked more of the moment.
"Of course," Damián says. "You know Nat and I were friends long before we started dating. She may be my wife now but, back then? She used to get annoyed just like you when someone assumed we were romantically involved. You know what she used to say?"
He doesn't wait for us to ask. I study him, hoping for a response that will set me at ease. Everyone else pays attention, too.
"Nat used to say queer people have best friends of the genders they're attracted to all the time. Why is that easy to believe, but not when the friends are straight-presenting in a heteronormative world? It's bullshit, she used to say."
"It is bullshit," I agree. "Yet here we are, with all of you implying we're wrong about being friends."
"It's only that sometimes," Logan says to my surprise, "you look like you're in love."
It's not like the quarterback to be the most outspoken in these situations.
"We're not," I insist.
"Are you going to kiss at the ceremony?" Saint asks. His words carry true curiosity. "It could show you something you don't know."
"We will," I say. "But it won't."
"How can you be so sure?" Dom asks.
Don't get me wrong. It was nice. Three out of ten.
That's what she said, and all I need to know.
"We kissed already." I grind my teeth. "A while ago."
My friends stare at me in shock. Rather than hold their gaze, I steal a glance at Pen. She laughs free and light, unencumbered by what we're discussing over here in our circle.
"This," Damián says. "Moments just like this. The way you look when you look at her…"
I've never seen myself look at her, of course. But his words sound like the truth anyway.
When I look at her from afar, something in my chest aches in the most delicious way.
Fuck.
I shake my head. "Despite how it may look sometimes, there's nothing romantic between us. We keep it platonic. Always."
"All right," Logan says. "So how do you want us to proceed moving forward? Especially at the ceremony."
"You can tease us at the wedding." I take a deep breath.
"People would expect it— her parents especially.
You can pretend Pen and I suddenly realized we're in love and act accordingly.
Even later on, when in public, sometimes.
It won't change things between us. But the next time you guys feel like staging an intervention?
Don't make it about me being secretly in love with Pen. "
"Got it," Damián says.
"Good to know we can still tease you," Saint adds, "because we were planning to clank our glasses a bunch of times, to ask you guys to kiss."
Dom nods. "Now we don't have to feel bad about it."
"Don't feel bad. It helps us," I say. "I want the day to be great and for us to have a lovely wedding. A few extra kisses won't change anything. In fact, it will make it more magical for her parents."
"Can't believe you've already kissed," Logan mutters. "Didn't expect that."
I shrug. "It wasn't a big deal."
It wasn't. Not beyond the way it set the course of friendship for us. Whatever's making noise deep in the dungeon of my mind, it's seeing things where there are none. Just because so much of this looks like what I want in love, it doesn't mean things are changing between Pen and I.
No matter how it may feel in my chest when our wedding day comes. How beautiful she will look, walking down the aisle toward me, arm in arm with her father. How bright her wide smile will be.
When I say I do, I'll promise to love my wife like my best friend first and foremost.