15. Jules
FIFTEEN
JULES
“I can’t believe you came to our wedding with a jock,” Ash says, looking at Drew across the room.
“I can’t believe you’re checking him out when you’ve just gotten married less than an hour ago,” I say with a laugh.
Ash rolls his pretty brown eyes. “Honey, it’s marriage, not a prison. I don’t think other people are ugly just because I’m married to the hottest man alive.”
His eyes find Remy and the smile which steals across his face makes my stomach twist and I immediately feel ten times horrible. Why the fuck can’t I be happy for my friends? Why do I have to compare my life journey to theirs?
Remy and Ash have been in love since freshman year of college. For a short time, that love included me, but it didn’t diminish their love for each other. They’ve been together for that long so why does their getting married make me feel this way?
There’s no other way to explain it--I’m a bad friend. What if, after everything, I’m just a reflection of my parents? What if I hate seeing other people happy?
“Jules?”
I blink Ash into focus and find him looking at me with concern.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, I was just thinking if you’re going to like my wedding present or not,” I fib. I’m proud of myself for thinking the lie so quickly.
“Is it Eye-Candy Callahan?” Ash’s eyes swing back to Drew.
Okay, so I can’t deny the attraction. Drew looks…
He looks… fine. Good. Acceptable. He looks like he’s about to walk out there and shoot a magazine cover.
In the back of my mind, I’ve always known Drew is good looking.
The entire Callahan clan is genetically blessed.
That’s never affected my opinion of him.
“No, it’s an ornate mirror that will be delivered to your apartment upon your return from your honeymoon,” I say. “If you don’t want it, just send it back.”
“A mirror? You speak to my vain heart.”
I glance back at Drew to see Remy and him walking towards us. Remy has long since shed off his coat, his long hair flowing around his shoulders, his shirtsleeves rolled up. Drew is a stark contrast walking next to him.
“It’s bad luck not to dance at a wedding,” Remy says when they reach us.
“Who is making these up?” I ask. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“It’s bad luck where I come from.” Remy shrugs, winking at Ash.
“You come from New Jersey,” I remind him.
“And there’s a tradition that you have to dance with your plus one or the newly married couple faces seven years of bad luck,” Remy explains.
“I thought that was a broken mirror,” Drew says drily.
“Broken mirror, not dancing at a wedding, it’s all the same thing.” Remy waves it off. “Do you want to risk it?”
Drew’s eyes meet mine briefly and I’m sure we’re both thinking the same thing.
Dancing will break our no-touching rule.
Well, my no-touching rule. But it’s okay.
I’ve shared a bed with him and lived to tell the tale.
He doesn’t snore and move around, he didn’t reach for me in the middle of the night under the guise of sleep.
In fact, I slept better last night than I do even while sleeping alone. I didn’t wake up once during the night.
“I’m going to need a lot more alcohol to dance,” Drew says.
“You have a one drink rule,” I remind him.
“Exactly. It’s not happening.”
“Clearly, Drew doesn’t care about our suffering. But you do.” Ash turns puppy dog eyes to me, the same eyes that used to melt me while we were dating. I’m afraid to admit they still have the same effect.
“I can’t make him dance,” I say.
“Dance with me, then,” Remy says. Giving his husband a kiss, he takes my hand and pulls me onto the middle of the dance floor. The wedding venue is a rooftop garden and the mid-June sun beats down on our heads, but there’s a nice breeze which keeps it from getting unbearable.
Remy’s hand settles on my waist as he leads me into a dance.
“So, what’s going on with you and the jock?” His tone is all too casual.
“With Drew?” I laugh. “Nothing. His great-aunt made him come with me because she knew I didn’t have a plus one.”
Remy gives me an all-knowing smile. “Then why is he scowling at me?”
He spins me around and I see that Drew is indeed scowling. It’s not that different from how he looks most of the time.
“That’s his resting Drew face,” I say.
“As long as his resting Drew doesn’t get me punched in the face on my wedding day,” Remy says.
I frown up at him. “Drew would never do that. He’s not a dumb jock who can’t regulate his emotions despite being a grown man.”
I pout, not liking that someone else is judging Drew. Only I get to do that.
Remy tilts his head back and forth. “He’s a jock so how many emotions can he possibly have? See the puck, hit it with a stick, grr.”
I can’t blame Remy, or maybe I can. I’ve never made my dislikes of jocks and sports people a secret, and I have a damn good reason to not like them.
And yeah, most of the jocks we knew in college were exactly as Remy is describing.
They thought they were the universe’s gift to the planet, which meant the laws of the world didn’t apply to them because they’d always been taught they’re special.
“Drew isn’t like that,” I say, a little louder than intended.
“He’s actually smart, and he cares about things other than hockey. And since when is it wrong to care about your job? As the captain of the team, Drew has to keep the morale high among the team and if they lose, he takes the brunt of the questions from the media. And the way he is—”
“Can I cut in?”
I choke on my words. Remy looks behind me, his smile widening into a grin.
“Of course,” he says silkily. Winking at me, he leans down and plants a kiss on my cheek. It’s only when he’s gone that I suspect he might have instigated me on purpose.
Drew takes Remy’s vacated place and for a second, we just stand there, in the middle of the dance floor.
I let him decide how he wants to proceed since he’s the one who wanted to cut in.
I appreciate that he doesn’t immediately take charge, that he doesn’t assume just because I was comfortable with Remy, I will be with him as well.
“May I?” Drew raises his hand between us, offering me the chance to accept or refuse him.
I look at his hand, large and calloused. What will it feel like against mine? I raise my hand, hovering just above his. Drew doesn’t push me, he doesn’t even attempt to grab my hand. He lets me decide what I want to do.
With a deep breath, I place my hand in his. Electricity surges through my hand and up my body, making me feel like I’ve been electrocuted. A shiver chases down my back.
Oh.
I look at Drew and find him staring at our locked hands, a frown marring his perfect brow. Did he feel it too? Is he as surprised as me?
Drew clears his throat, shifting slightly. He places his other hand on my waist, the heat of his palm seeping in through the thin material of my dress. And just like that, we’re dancing.
“I thought you said you need to be drunk in order to dance,” I say. I need something to distract me from the fact that not only is Drew touching me, we’re also dancing like it’s something we do all the time.
“I’m making an exception,” he says gruffly. His eyes are a clear, perfect green behind his glasses.
“For me?” I can’t hide my surprise.
Even though we’re standing close to each other, our bodies aren’t touching except for our hands and his hand on my waist. Andrew has left enough room between us for a non-demonational deity.
“For the grooms. I don’t want them to have bad luck because of me.” His mouth lifts into the slightest smirk. “Knowing the kind of friends you keep, I don’t want to be cursed because I failed to dance at a wedding.”
“Dude, your sister is my best friend.”
“And she visits a witch, unironically.”
I can’t argue against that. Drew spins me around and I get a view of the whole venue, including the grooms smirking at us. Why does everyone have to meddle? Isn’t it enough that Drew and I are being cordial for a while?
There will be nothing more between us.
“Are you okay?” Drew’s voice is quiet, like he’s whispering a secret no one else can know.
I blink up at him, taking in his sharp jaw and straight nose. “Why are you asking?”
“You look…” His shoulder shifts under my hand as he shrugs. “I was going to say you look sad, but I’m not sure if that’s true.”
I am sad, and I’m surprised that he noticed. I’m surprised I’m emoting my sadness when I thought I’m doing a damn good job at faking it.
“Wedding blues,” I reply, noncommittally.
“I didn’t know guests could feel wedding blues,” Drew says.
“Wedding blues are for everyone, Drew. You don’t even need to be at a wedding and you can feel wedding blues.”
“How do you make things up like that?” Drew looks like he wants to smile.
“It’s a talent.”
He spins me around and around. To anyone watching us on the dance floor, it would look like we’re just two friends, maybe more. They’ll never know the history.
“Do you think it’s odd that we’re capable of being friendly with each other and choose not to be?” It doesn’t bother me so much as it makes me curious. Now that I think about it, we should be friends, or at least friendly given that we’ve known each other our whole lives.
“I think we just enjoy being mean to each other,” he says, sardonically.
I laugh lightly. “I can’t deny that.”
Drew looks down at me, his eyes softening slightly. “Still, it hasn’t been an absolute bloodbath.”
“No, it hasn’t,” I admit.
The band ends the song for a break and Drew steps back, dropping my hand. I tuck it to my side, moving back from him.
Although my original plan was to leave once the ceremony was over, I find myself stuck. Once the band came back, Ash wanted to dance because he felt left out. Then they wanted to take a million photos. Then introduce me to everyone at the party.