Chapter Six #3
At the back of the large common area turned dance floor was a towering, inflatable, neon-pink chapel.
The lights flashed C-H-A-P-E-L one at a time in bright yellow, then held the line together for a solid thirty seconds.
White paper flowers that had probably been draped over tables early in the night now mostly littered the ground.
Without warning, the wordless techno screeched to a halt as the unmistakable first lines of the Dixie Cups’ “Chapel of Love” poured out of the room’s many speakers.
The house itself seemed to cheer as everyone raised their hands in unison and hollered at the couple standing under the chapel’s neon arch.
The officiant who’d given Rose the ring pop stood behind them, and she heard the last line of what she could only assume was a drunken rendition of a real ceremony: “And if anyone objects, you should have shot your shot earlier!” The room erupted and the couple flew at each other face-first with a flurry of hands that left Rose wondering whether they’d really just met that night—whether it was even possible to have such passion with someone you’d first locked eyes with over a punch bowl.
A hand on her shoulder made her jump. Rose spun around and stared up into the eyes of a man she’d met that very same way.
“Just me!” Landon held his hands up apologetically.
Rose drank him in, his tall frame suddenly not quite so gangly in the thick black fabric of his tailored suit.
It could have been a trick of the light or a side effect of the formal wear, but she could swear his features looked more symmetrical, his brown hair even darker, his deep brown eyes a touch brighter.
“You knew?!” she said, flailing her arms at his suit, accusing him with her eyes of leaving her in the dark.
“My roommate told me!” he yelled into her ear. “You look amazing, by the way.” The breath from his shout-whisper sent shivers down her spine.
“You look…” Rose fumbled for the words. “You look good, too!”
“We look good together!” His goofy smile nearly melted her. “Dance with me?”
Rose eyed the sweaty mass of people. For those wearing suits, most jackets had already come off and some had stripped off their shirts.
Thin dresses rode up on sticky thighs as the wedding guests undulated and swayed against each other.
In a matter of minutes, that would be them. “Yes,” she said, taking his hand.
Rose had never danced like this—had never imagined herself the kind of person who would or could dance like this—but Landon found a way to make it easy as breathing.
Where she’d imagined he’d be awkward and loping, he was smooth and practiced, spinning her out like a top only to reel her back in against his warm body so effortlessly she could have been flying.
Sweat pooled on her forehead, in her hair, along the ridges of her back, and she reveled in it; luxuriated in the mess she was fast becoming.
Landon’s jacket soon dropped to the floor and her hands found the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one, his kind eyes turning just a little hungry in approval.
The beat pulsed, and her heart raced, and Rose pressed her body up against his, her candy ring sticking to the hairs on his chest. Poppy’s words swam behind her eyes on a loop, daring her to be bold: It’s just an excuse to make out!
The Rose who had stripped naked and jumped into the pond would make the first move. She was sure of it.
Rose reached up, struck again by just how towering he was, and looped her hands through his wet curls, pulling his face toward her.
He angled his body down, giving just enough that she felt she was still in control but didn’t need to stand on her tiptoes to have him.
Their lips met, and any trace of Landon’s awkwardness vanished.
He parted her mouth gently with his, probing and teasing.
She answered his lips with equal force, leaning her body into his until they were as close as they could be without fusing.
This, her soul cried. I want this. It was as close to living life ruled by instinct as she’d ever been.
“Rose,” he whispered, and she wondered how it was she could hear him over the pulsing music.
Landon, she tried to say. But the instant she pulled back, she was swept away, pushed from person to person, hands passing her until she stood below the neon flashing lights of the inflatable chapel. Landon spilled from the crowd into her.
“I guess the room has spoken,” the officiant said, a wicked glint in his eye. “You guys know the drill, no objections accepted here.” Going to the chapel and we’re, gonna get ma-a-ar-ried, going to the chapel and we’re, gonna get ma-a-ar-ried. “Do you have the rings?”
Rose pulled the sticky ring pop from her right hand, and Landon produced his from his pocket, still safe in its plastic wrapping.
“If I’d known this would happen, I would have proposed first.” If Landon’s grin grew any bigger it would fly right off his face.
She laughed. “I have to warn you that most marriages don’t work out. It’s just simple statistics.”
“We’re different,” Landon said. “If anyone can beat those odds, it’s you and me.”
“You and me.” Rose thought there was a certain magic to it.
“Swap those rings,” the officiant said. The crowd cheered as Rose struggled to slide the plastic over Landon’s thick ring finger. His ring fit as though made for her. “By the power vested in me by absolutely fucking nobody, I now pronounce you married.”
Rose and Landon kissed. It was the beginning and end of everything.