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Jared sighs, licking sealed the final envelope. “Aaaand that makes forty-two!” He announces, setting it down. “Yeesh, tiny wedding, huh?”
He turns to look at me, watching as I continue to scroll through the seemingly endless page of possible floral arrangements.
“You know, it would be kinda depressing if you happened to show up at your mom’s wedding without a date,” he says casually.
Alarmed, I take a break from flowers, eyes wide. “What?”
Jared shrugs, starting to place stamps on the stack of envelopes. “I mean, I could go with you, like as friends, as lame as that sounds, but I already have a date, and man, she is smoking !”
I roll my eyes. “I'm sure,” I mutter dryly. “But actually, I do have a date!” I blurt out in order to get him to stop pestering me. Shit .
This time, it's Jared’s turn to look at me with shock. “Seriously?” Then he laughs. “Yeah, right, you , having someone as your plus one.”
“It's true!” I insist, knowing fully well that it is not true. “I have a boyfriend .”
Jared raises an eyebrow. He's not surprised, I don't think, anyhow. I came out as bi last year, but… now I need an actual fake boyfriend to take to Mom’s wedding. “What's his name?”
“Connor Murphy!” I practically shout, causing Jared to go into a choking fit. “Ye-yeah, it's, uh, it’s Connor Murphy.”
“Woah! Him ?!” Jared shakes his head in wonder. “Damn, son. How long’s it been?”
“A couple months,” I respond vaguely, already building onto the lie.
And then that was the precise moment the panic began to settle in. I knew Connor Murphy, we had some classes together, maybe spoke a total of three times that didn't involve him telling me to go do something anatomically impossible. Wait. No. Only two times. (‘Can I have a pencil?’- which he never returned to this day- And a mumbled ‘thanks’ for holding the door open for him). Besides, how could I convince him to help me without me ending up being beaten to a pulp? I'd have to think harder on that one. But that wasn't exactly the worst part. Oh, no, oh no, no, no. The worst part, the very worst part, was that I had just a teeny-tiny crush on him.
-----
Flash-forward: two months later.
I make my way through the small crowd to Connor, trying not to spill my glass of champagne (Mom let me have some, even though she’s against me having alcohol before I turn twenty-one, but because it’s her wedding, and my now-step-dad---that’s weird--- said ‘Let the kid have some fun!’) as I take little sips.
I give Connor an awkward wave, finally slipping through people dancing to some old rock music and laughing. He’s leaning against a beam, his own flute of champagne in hand, looking incredibly bored.
He notices me, and grins, then drinks down the rest of his champagne in a single gulp, setting down the empty cup on a nearby snack table.
“H-hey,” I squeak, fidgeting nervously with the sleeves of my slightly-too-big blazer.
“‘Sup, Evan.”
“Hey,” I repeat stupidly. Damn it! “Um, heh, sorry… Uh, I wanted to tell you thanks for pretending to be my ‘date’ or whatever, sorry, it was really stupid, as I said, you know, I just said it to get Jared to shut up, so, I mean.. It was fun, don’t get me wrong, it was fun to hang out with you here and there, but, uh, I think Jared believes me, so, like… um.. How much do I owe you?”
Connor bursts out laughing, shaking his head. “Hey, relax, you don’t owe me shit, it was totally fun!”
Okay, I kinda wish we could pretend for a tiny bit longer, but that’s not fair, Connor has to go back home, I’m wasting his time .
“O-Oh, okay, um…”
He gives me a little smirk, then comes closer. “I-”
Suddenly, a familiar flop of brown hair enters my field of vision, and a grinning (and quite possibly slightly drunk) Jared appears beside me. “Hey lovebirds!” he says loudly, slapping his hand against my arm, causing me to wince. “Y’all looking adorable together!”
Nervously, I lower my voice, ducking my head. “Um, Jared, could you please be a bit quie-”
Jared gives me sloppy finger guns as he nods. “Right, right, you two want privacy to make out and touch each other’s dicks and stuff, eh?”
“Jared!” I screech, slamming my hand over his mouth as I feel myself getting red. “What the hell?”
Jared bats away my arm, snickering. “Later, dorks. Gotta go and spend some time with my lady ,” he says, trying to walk away with a swagger, but stumbling a bit.
“I am so, so sorry for him-” I start, but one look at Connor’s amused face shuts me right up.
Not only his face, honestly. His entire self. He looks.. well, he looks great . Fitted suit, hair brushed and shining, perfect .
He notices the change in music before I do. The music slows from rock to a gentle indie ballad of some sort, the lights dimming. I hear someone, probably my step-brother’s boyfriend, announcing that it’s time for couples to come and dance.
For a brief second, my eyes dart to Connor, then away, quick as lightning.
Mom comes up to us, giving me an embarrassing kiss on the cheek, then saying hello to Connor. She looks beautiful, wearing her old wedding dress, slim and a pale blue (‘because white is for plain, boring people!’), her hair tied up with little white flowers crowning her bun, spilling blonde curls around her face.
Connor compliments her, causing her to turn to me and whisper that I have good taste in guys. If Connor overheard, he doesn’t show it. I pray he didn’t hear her.
She puts a hand on each of our shoulders, smiling. “It’s time for the couples dances, wouldn’t it be fun if you two went out there?”
“Mom, I, but it’s so, everyone’s…” I try to protest weakly, but she playfully nudges me, winking.
“Go for it!” She whispers, then pushes me towards Connor, happily walking back to her-now husband. (Gonna really have to get over that .)
Connor extends a hand to me, a warm smile on his lips. “Should we dance?”
Heart hammering in my chest, I accept his invitation (after I briefly wipe my hands on my pant leg, of course), and allow him to lead me to the dance floor.
I catch Jared’s eye as he waggles his eyebrows. I stick out my tongue in return, but by that time, he’s already clutching his date’s butt. Disgusted, I turn back to Connor.
It’s rather annoying how easily dancing comes to him, like he’s taken lessons. (I bet he’s taken lessons).
He puts a hands on my waist as I manage to loop mine around his neck as he leads us in a graceful dance.
“So, I’m the girl, huh?” I joke, trying to find a way to fill the silence.
Connor chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the edges when he does so. God, I wish I could make him laugh like that all the time …
“Well, I figured it would be easier for you if I was leading,” he says, smirking.
You’re so considerate, what the hell? What happened to the Connor from school who is a jerk to everyone? I like this Connor a lot. Can this be what he’s always like?
We sway gently side to side, now keeping our eyes on each other, getting lost in this feeling. Well, maybe it’s just me. I’m not sure how Connor feels about this exactly. Or maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s okay because at least he seems happy. Maybe he doesn’t regret pretending to be my boyfriend for some silly reason. Or maybe he likes me. It’s like we are alone here, just the two of us dancing, the way everything is so perfect, just two teenagers having fun on a warm spring night.
Those were the thoughts running through my head only moments before. Moments before, I had thoughts, thoughts swimming in my mind, thoughts I was aware I was having. But that was moments before now. Moments before right now, right this second when Connor leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.