Chapter 26 #2
They were also the types to hit the bar hard, and despite the stock of beer and wine that had been given to us, most people opted for mead as a sort of novelty.
The work was simpler than our usual vendor events, just bartending rather than selling, but it was infinitely more exhausting.
By the end of dinner, I’d been hit on by at least a dozen men, including the best man, no fewer than five times, and the groom himself once.
This rarely bothered me – I always got a weird power trip knowing a man could become obsessed with me and I would never feel the same – but drunken groomsmen were a different breed of lusty, and it was frankly just sad to witness, and even worse to be on the receiving end.
But I was delighted to catch what looked like flashes of jealousy on Teddy’s face each time someone tried to chat me up.
The drunkenness came to a head sometime between the first dance and the cake cutting, when the bride, already absolutely plastered, nearly toppled face-first into said wedding cake.
Teddy managed to catch her just in time, and the bride was so grateful she kissed Teddy on the cheek, leaving a big lipstick print on Teddy’s skin that was almost as red as her face.
After that, the bride kept dragging family members over to meet “the girl who saved the wedding,” and though Teddy waved them off every time, she kept coming back.
“I think the bride fancies you more than her new husband,” I joked.
“At least I’d be able to find the clit after a few drinks.”
I felt heat flood my entire body at the casual comment, even as I tried to play it off with a snigger, and we stared at each other for a tense moment before cracking up laughing again.
When the hotel’s licensing hours ended at around eleven, we still had mead left, so we filled glasses and left them on the bar for the guests. The bride came over and insisted we join the fun, too.
“Come and party with us,” she insisted, her words slurring. Would she even remember her own wedding, I wondered? Though maybe that was the point…
“We don’t want to impose,” Teddy said, but the bride was shaking her head.
She picked up two glasses off the bar, handed one to each of us, and then dragged Teddy by the arm onto the dance floor.
She deposited her in the middle of the crowd, and I watched as Teddy looked around in confusion.
She found my gaze, and we laughed at one another from across the room.
I tipped back the drink I’d been given, taking a long swig of the Henford – my favourite – and then went to join her.
The bride came back to Teddy around the time I got to her, a huge smile on her face.
“I told the DJ to put on something gay,” she shouted over the music.
“Should be on next.” I supposed I should be pleased that at least the drunken bride had decent gaydar, but mostly I was just concerned about what the Chainsmokers wannabe behind the decks would think constituted gay music.
At almost that exact moment, the song began to transition, incredibly clunkily, between “Get Low” by Lil Jon and, naturally, “Pink Pony Club”.
We danced – of course we did; it was “Pink Pony Club” – and I was shocked at how into it Teddy was, losing herself in a way I’d never seen before.
It probably helped that her glass was already almost empty; she’d clearly needed some liquid courage.
People kept bringing us more drinks, too, and when we tried to leave, more than an hour and multiple meads each later, the bride insisted we stay, even having the long-suffering wedding coordinator set up chairs for us at one of the tables.
We settled in with cheese from the enormous snacking board, and I found myself admiring again how relaxed and slouchy Teddy got when she drank.
It made me realise that the Captain Elizabeth Swann vibes had been as much about her natural demeanour as the actual costume – though, admittedly, the costume hadn’t hurt.
“They seem sort of sweet,” I said, watching the newlyweds attempt to feed each other cake without making a complete mess. “At least he didn’t smash her face into the frosting.”
“Sweet?” Teddy raised an eyebrow. “He told her in front of all her friends and family that she’s the second hottest woman alive.
That’s not sweet, that’s insulting.” She was clearly very merry, and she stumbled a bit on the last word, saying it like “inslutting” instead, which she clearly found very hilarious, chuckling to herself.
“But they’re so optimistic about it all,” I said. “So sure they’re going to make it work.”
“Do you believe in all that?” Teddy asked, waving her hand at god-knows-what, her voice softer. “Happy ever after, I mean?”
I considered the question, twirling my glass between my fingers. “I do, actually. I think so, anyway. Even though I haven’t had much luck with it myself.”
“Surely there are people lined up around the block to be with you,” Teddy said, and there was something almost wistful in her voice.
“There aren’t that many queer women in my town,” I said with a shrug. “And the ones I have met … well, they’re all friends. It makes things complicated.”
“Isn’t that the way of things, though? Part of the sapphic territory and all that?”
I laughed. “Maybe. But it’s never quite worked for me. I can’t move on unless there’s distance. And besides,” I took a larger sip of mead than I’d intended to, “I’m a bit much for most of the women I’m attracted to, so it can be a bit embarrassing for everyone involved.”
Teddy frowned. “What do you mean?”
“They like to play it cool, you know? Keep things casual, not overthink things. Whereas I’m just … a mess of emotions and anxiety, I guess. I’m not good at casual. I catch feelings the way other people catch a cold. Which, yeah, is a stereotype as well, I guess. But it’s also true.”
Somewhat surprisingly, Teddy didn’t look put off by this admission. If anything, she was smiling more warmly, like she found my neuroses endearing rather than exhausting.
“What about you?” I asked, desperately needing to turn the spotlight away from me and my romantic failings. “Ever had anything real?”
Teddy shook her head. “No. It’s hard when I’m only around for half the year. I’ve tried – in California, anyway – but…” She paused, seeming to choose her words carefully. “I’ve never met anyone who made me want to call someplace home more than here.”
Teddy was perhaps a bit more drunk than I was, and she suddenly looked directly at me with an expression that was almost vulnerable.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her words only slightly undercut by the slur around the edges. “For acting weird the last couple of weeks. I know my vibe has been off.”
“Yeah, well, I’m getting used to it,” I scoffed. She tilted her head at me in confusion, so I explained. “You know, your pattern. Where you’re cold, then you say something nice, or we have a moment, so you freak out and have to go cold again…”
I tried to keep my tone light. Breezy. But she looked genuinely stricken.
“Oh my god, I totally do that, don’t I?”
I shrugged. “It’s fine. I have no idea what you’re like with other people. I only know from my own experience.”
“Well, I’m sorry for that, too.” She waved her hand vaguely in my direction. “You just … well, you scare me.”
I frowned. “You mean, I intimidate you?”
Teddy caught my gaze and held it, and suddenly I felt stone-cold sober.
“No,” she said, her voice dropping lower, her voice crystal clear now. “You terrify me. All this” – she gestured between us – “it scares the shit out of me.”
I wasn’t certain what she meant by “all this”, but if she was feeling the same alchemy between us that I was, then I could guess. It was, in fact, terrifying. Mortifying, even.
I was still reeling from the confession, trying to process what she’d just admitted, trying to figure out how to respond with something other than “you scare me, too, and somehow that makes you even hotter to me,” when Teddy suddenly sat bolt upright, a look of pure glee on her face.
It took until the end of the nonsensical countdown – “four, tres, two, uno” – for me to realise what had captured her attention. When the familiar voice declared it was time to “Listen up, y’all,” I finally understood what had her so excited.
Before I knew what was happening, she was dragging me onto the dance floor, where I discovered that not only did Teddy Cooper know every single word to “Fergalicious”, but she had interpretive dance moves to go with every lyric – from bicep curls for “fitness” to a far more lewd gesture for “pleasures”.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, I found this unbridled enthusiasm extremely attractive.
She was dancing in an oddly captivating way, completely unselfconscious, and, as usual, I was powerless to resist her.
I watched her toss her hair around and execute questionable body rolls, and I was overcome with affection.
There was no getting around it anymore – I had real feelings for this woman. This stern, passionate, and apparently Fergalicious woman. I was exhausted from constantly trying to turn them off; it didn’t work, anyway. And maybe it was the mead, but in that moment, I didn’t want to try anymore.
I started to dance along with her, which just got her even more excited, apparently.
As the song built, I spun around so my back was pressed against her front, guiding her hand to my hip as we moved together.
Sparks erupted where her fingers tickled my skin through the fabric of my skirt.
I expected her to pull away like she usually did – to retreat into professional distance – but instead she brought her other hand around me, too, then nuzzled into my neck, her breath hot against my ear as she kept singing.
I swayed against her in a way that made me feel all tingly, and I gasped in surprise when her hands gripped harder onto my hips, her fingers pressing into me, pulling us even closer together.
I arched my back, then felt as her hand started to drift higher, passing briefly over the gap that had formed between my top and my skirt, before scaling my ribcage.
The electric sensation when she grazed the underside of my breast was so intense that I spooked slightly, spinning around suddenly in her arms.
But Teddy caught my face as I turned, and before I could say anything, before I could overthink or panic or find a reason why this was a terrible idea, she leaned forward and closed her mouth over mine.
Fucking finally.