3
The sound of applause dies down outside of our hiding place as I say, “You know, I really am entirely fucking sick of weddings this week.” And then realise that I;
a. Said that aloud, and;
b. Am not alone.
I cringe, waiting for Miles to ask why. I really don’t want to have to explain my entire predicament to him.
“God, me too,” Miles says.
I raise an eyebrow, not expecting it.
“Oh really? What’s your trauma?” I ask, grinning and leaning forward, elbows on my knees again.
He grins, mimicking me and leaning forward too. “You first,” he says.
I roll my eyes, trying not to grin. And then I sigh and explain half of my trauma. He doesn’t need the full story. Firstly, because I just met him and secondly because I would like to keep up the facade of being a marginally normal person.
How’s that going for you, Delaney? Huh?
“My friend from home is getting married,” I say .
He snorts, “Sounds terrible,” he says, rolling his eyes as if my trauma isn’t even a thing. Oh, how little he knows.
“Hey,” I say, trying not to yell, “I’m not finished!”
“Oh,” he says, eyebrows raised, “Do continue,” he adds, gesturing for me to go on.
“I’m the Maid of Honour,” I continue.
Before I can explain how this actually is an incredibly traumatic thing for me, he speaks.
“Fuck, how are you going to survive that?” he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I am still not finished, Milesy boy!” I all but yell.
He raises an eyebrow, smirking and gesturing for me to continue again.
“My ex-boyfriend is the best man,” I finish.
Laying it all out there really makes me panic. I mean, am I actually going to do this? Turn up to a wedding where Caleb fucking Locke, devil-incarnate and all-round turd, is going to be. And not alone. Oh no. He’s going to have his girlfriend on his arm. Nicole, the she-devil.
I would feel like less of a feminist for calling her a she-devil, except there really is a special place in hell for women who don’t support other women. Nicole would be there. Along with women who say ‘I don’t believe in feminism, I’m an equalist.’
“Oh, okay,” he says, “That does sound a bit shit. Are you on good terms with him?” he asks, and again, it sounds like he’s actually concerned about the situation. Good, he should be. I am concerned so I want everyone else to be, please and thank you.
I laugh at the thought of being on good terms with Caleb and say, “Nope, he’s a total arsehole and we haven’t spoken since we broke up,” I say, “And, he’ll be there with my replacement,” I add, knowing how bitter I sound. It’s hard not to. I guess I am a bit jaded.
I don’t add the rest because my tolerance for humiliation can only go so far, and my gin-mouth is already pushing me close to my limit tonight.
“Ouch,” he says, “That’s bad. But mine is worse,”
I snort and roll my eyes. I highly doubt his situation is worse than mine. And if it is, well, that’s pretty shit, man.
“Of course,” I say, “Go on then, show me how big your horse is,”
He grins that wolfish grin again, “My cousin is getting married in a few months,”
“And what?” I interrupt, “Your family wants you to settle down too?” I ask, rolling my eyes again.
“I’m story building, Delaney,” he says, rolling his eyes too and sighing as if I’ve interrupted him writing his masterpiece.
“Okay, okay,” I say, sitting back in my chair and assessing him, “Why is your cousin’s wedding so bad? Is your ex the Maid of Honour? ”
He snorts, “I wish. No, my ex is the bride,” he says.
My mouth drops open, “Oh fuck. You win,” I say, and then I turn and pick up my gin again, “You need this more than I do,”
He laughs as he accepts the gin. He takes a sip and pulls a face, “Fuck me, that’s strong,” he says, but then takes another sip anyway.
I grin, “Did you not hear about my Very Hard Life?”
He laughs again. Though now, my Very Hard Life seems like a dream compared to his. I couldn’t imagine going to Caleb’s wedding.
I mean, I doubt I’d be invited, thankfully.
“So, was she a serious ex?” I ask.
He shrugs, “We dated for a year,” he says, and he seems unbothered. A year seems like a relatively serious relationship, though I have no scale to measure against. My longest and only relationship lasted most of my teen years and even some of my twenties.
I frown, “Isn’t it weird that your cousin started dating her?”
Because I sure as fuck wouldn’t be able to handle Caleb dating one of my relatives. Then again, I don’t think I’d allow Caleb to date any of them. Gotta keep those devil genes out of my bloodline, thanks.
“My cousin is a bit of a snake if I’m being honest,” Miles explains, “If I had to pick one of my family members and one of my exes who would get together, it would have been those two—so I’m not really surprised,”
“You don’t sound very distraught,” I say, frowning, “If my cousin was marrying my ex and I had to go to the wedding, well, I simply wouldn’t go,” I add, honestly.
He chuckles, “I’m not actually that bothered that he’s marrying her,”
I raise an eyebrow, not fully believing him. He rolls his eyes. “That. That is what I’m bothered about,” he says, pointing at my face.
“What?” I ask looking around me.
“The eyebrow raises,” he says, “No one seems to believe that I don’t care. I mean, sure we dated for a year but we were seventeen and I mostly stayed with her because she had sex with me. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but seventeen-year-old boys will do anything for sex. Even if it means staying with a girl he’s not really sure he likes and whose hair always seems to end up in his mouth, even when she’s not in the room,”
“Girls moult, Miles,” I say between laughs.
He laughs too. “I have realised that now, but it’s harder to put up with when you don’t really like the girl that much,” he says.
I snort, “Men are pigs,”
“Hey, I’d break up with her now,” he says indignantly, “I like to think I’ve matured slightly since I was a kid, ”
I snort again, “Unlikely, but it’s nice to see you’re not afraid of progress,”
He grins, shaking his head and finishing the last of my gin. I’m not entirely sure he deserves it, to be honest. He’s not exactly suffering is he? I’d love to be unbothered by having to see my ex. I wonder if Miles had a disastrous break-up with this girl, or if he really is just sick of people acting like he’s been thrown over. That does feel terrible. I mean, I would very, very much know what it’s like to be thrown over and it fucking sucks.
“So, what,” I start, “It’s the fact that everyone thinks you’ve been passed over that’s going to make it so crap? Not the fact he’s gonna be married to your ex-girlfriend?”
He nods, “Honestly, I wasn’t bothered when he texted to tell me that they’d been seeing each other and I’m not bothered now. I just wish it didn’t sound so fake when I said it. But ever since they announced it, all my friends have been checking in on me to see how I’m doing and my mum keeps asking me if I’m bringing a date.”
“I know that feeling,” I say, “People keep telling me not to feel pressured to bring someone and that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being single. But the more they say it, the more it becomes very clear that it is a huge problem that I am single,”
He nods in agreement, and I consider how he might be the only person on the planet who can truly relate to this feeling.
“And now it’s at a point where even if I do bring someone, they’re all going to think I brought them just so that I wasn’t single,” he says, sighing.
I nod vigorously. It’s not like I haven’t considered manufacturing a boyfriend.
“It’s like the only way around it is to go back in time and continue to date that guy that had quite a nice face but thought that the earth was flat just so I could tell people he was my boyfriend at the wedding,”
“Okay, I don’t know if I’d go as far as dating a flat-earther just to get through it,” he says seriously.
I laugh, “Okay, maybe I’m not that desperate yet,” I say, not entirely sure if I am, in fact, that desperate after all.
Miles snorts and then he looks at me curiously.
“Yes?” I ask.
“Maybe we should be each other’s dates,” he says with a wink.
I snort, “Listen, the fake dating trope is one of my favourites, but it only works if it’s my tall, brooding colleague who’s been secretly in love with me for three years. I don’t know how my family would respond to me bringing the local drug dealer home,”
But as I say it, I can see it. Walking into that wedding with someone as hot and downright cool as Miles on my arm. The drama, the looks. It would be iconic .
He laughs, “I don’t know how to make you believe that I’m just a florist,” he says.