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Crowds are the worst.
Existing conversations between strangers blend to create a symphony only beautiful to those who take part in it. Music is too old, too different from your taste. Your heels stab your feet with every step you take towards the food stands. The food stands see you for the third time in the past thirty minutes, but at least they feel welcoming.
The cupcakes won’t judge you, and neither will the lumpia.
The lack of conversation around you makes melancholy well up in your chest. You were never good at attracting conversation, much less maintaining it, so perhaps it’s a good thing that you remained by yourself during this entire ceremony. Even though you yearn to feel less alone, maybe this is for the best.
Maybe the cupcakes and lumpia will be your only companions tonight.
You sigh as you walk back to your table of strangers. They don’t notice you at first since their eyes are on the beverage stand currently being stocked up with bottles of what can only be assumed is wine, but as you take a bite of your cupcake, your eyes land on a specific someone.
You recognize him as the man who sat on the pew next to you at the wedding. He stepped out to help the flower girl distribute petals all over the aisle, caught the ring when the ring bearer dropped it as they walked, and cried when the vows were being said. You had watched those violet eyes dart around the church more than you’d watched your friend’s wedding, it seems.
But now, he’s organizing the beverage stand with other men you recognize from the ceremony, and your eyes cannot focus anywhere else. His smile is infectious and spills over to the others, his jokes make the table across them laugh, and when he holds a bottle of rosé to read its contents… his muscles peek out of his suit’s sleeve.
The complementary water does nothing to soothe your thirst.
“They’re taking a while, aren’t they?” one of the ladies at your table comments. “I just hope the stand’s open when the speeches happen.”
“Really? I prefer hearing the speeches sober. They’re very sweet.”
“They’re sweeter with wine.”
You don’t even register the conversation until you feel a nudge on your shoulder. “Yes?” you say, panic welling up in your chest. Have you done something wrong?
“You’re eyeing Caleb, aren’t you?” the lady beside you asks. Her smile is welcoming, but her eyes gleam under the chandelier. “Don’t worry. He’s single.”
You have to blink to register the fact that they’re talking to you.
Caleb. Caleb is his name.
“He and the groom go way back. He was actually the one who urged him to flirt with his crush, who is now his wife.”
You say nothing, but you take note of everything being said. You notice that Caleb has the natural instinct to help others in everything he does. How sweet.
By now, the stand is fully organized. The bottles are displayed atop of a black bar table, and a line quickly builds up soon after. You watch Caleb’s eyes widen and the way they quickly soften when the first customer approaches with their request.
“Direct all orders to my friend. I’m not good with drinks,” he sheepishly admits, that stupid smile appearing on his face.
“Wanna get drinks with us?” the ladies ask you abruptly. Their friendliness is unfamiliar when all you’ve known are snark remarks from old “friends,” but you shake your head at the offer with the excuse of needing to finish your plate first.
You find yourself alone again, watching your surroundings like you’re working security and not a friend of the bride. Conversations erupt and grow louder in volume as the line to the stand adds up, the couple’s families talk amongst each other to presumably prepare for their speeches, and the music changes from the usual pop song to a ballad.
“Kiss from a Rose? Really?” someone comments. It makes the ceremony erupt in laughter, and your faint smile appears too.
The song’s lyrics are all that occupies your mind as you continue eating your food. Your half-devoured cupcake stares at you as you mouth the lyrics to yourself, a concert erupting in your head with your food as your only witness.
Well, at least you thought so.
When the song ends and smoothly introduces a Filipino ballad, you feel a light touch on your shoulder. You freeze, dread encompassing your entire body, until a familiar voice counters it with its sweetness.
“You looked lovely, like a swaying flower.”
You turn around, your thoughts proven right when Caleb stands there with a small smile on his face. It’s the same one he had when he watched the newlyweds share their vows and when he helped the flower girl. It’s the same sparkle as when happiness consumes him completely.
“Oh,” you whisper shyly. “T-thank you.”
Caleb shamelessly takes the seat next to you, making your heart flutter. “I hope you didn’t mind my tears back at the wedding.”
Oh, so he did notice you, and he noticed you looking at him.
You take a sip of water to hide the tint of your cheeks, gasping when you find the cup to be empty. Caleb’s smile hides a much bigger laugh, but he doesn’t show it.
“Do you need more water?”
Your mouth moves before your mind does. “No. Your tears were enough.”
As soon as those words leave your lips, your hands fly to your mouth. Murmured apologies are all that encompass this newfound conversation, hoping that your new company doesn’t run away. You’ve dealt with that too many times in the past.
But, to your surprise, Caleb’s smile widens.
The sparks in his eyes brighten with every apology, and his hand moves to pull yours off of your mouth. “It’s okay, it’s okay. That was hilarious.”
Hilarious?
In the spaces you always occupied, that would’ve pushed people away. It would’ve been hilarious only to the people who already disliked you because it gave them an excuse to mock you.
You wait for Caleb to leave, to tell you that he had something to do.
But he doesn’t.
He just stares at you.
Those violet eyes read your expression, and judging by his slight frown, he understands.
His hands clutch yours like a familiar comfort as your anxiety builds up from within, drowning you in its waters. “I like your jokes.”
You grip his hand tightly, feeling his veins and scars and warmth. “Thank you,” comes out as a soft, shy whisper. Not fully convinced, but not hesitant in the possibility that he may be telling the truth.
The music changes to a more upbeat song, and you clear your throat to get rid of the silence between you. “I’ll grab some more food.”
Escaping has always been the safe route.
You expect to be back at the food stands all on your own, like the first three times you did the same. The pork barbecue and desserts are the only ones catching your attention, nothing else. Not your anxiety, not the cutie that makes butterflies well up in your tummy.
But you didn’t expect that same cutie to linger behind you as you browse the food options, looking at you like you’re the spectacle.
“Do you want recommendations?” you murmur slyly.
He smiles. “No need. I cooked half of the items here.”
That makes you turn around. With your plate in one hand and your heart in the other, you stare at this man as though he were an angel. He might as well be, considering his creations have saved you multiple times tonight.
“You…” you say in utter disbelief. “What can’t you do?”
His smile is accompanied by his raised brow. “What do you mean?”
You hear his soft laugh when you turn towards the food instead of answering his ridiculous question. The answer should be obvious enough, no?
As you walk back to your table with Caleb following close behind, microphones are being set up for those who are giving speeches. Your heart braces for Caleb to leave your side to help out, but he’s glued to your every move.
With every bite you take of your cupcake, he does the same with his pork barbecue. When you look into your purse, he does the same with his pockets.
“Aren’t you going to help them set up?” you finally ask.
“Do you want me to?”
“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I just thought that since you’ve had a hand in every inch of this wedding, you’d want to help out.”
Caleb laughs that same hearty laugh, opening worlds you’d never known existed.
“I want to stay here with you, though,” he says simply, like it’s normal and not the words you’ve wanted to hear your entire life. “They can survive without me.”
But as Lady Luck would have it, one of the men trip over a cord, eliciting gasps and laughter all throughout the reception. You look at Caleb with every intention of giggling. “You sure?”
“Well, I wouldn’t have prevented that even if I was there.”
“Oh, so you would have tripped him?”
There goes your mouth again.
And there is his smile, bright and amused by all the words you regret to say aloud.
“Not quite, but I’m not entirely perfect like you seem to think I am.”
“I do not!”
He laughs again, turning towards where the newlyweds stand once the mics are on and working. Speeches become your entertainment, and Caleb becomes the audience to your every thought. He laughs with every remark and smiles with every ounce of yourself you show to him.
Dancing was even more interesting. Crowds weren’t so bad once all of your attention went to one person and to the music that accompanies every step. You’ve never been in sync with another, but with Caleb, your heart feels at peace.
“Just like that,” Caleb would say right before you accidentally stepped on his foot, but he never got angry. Only amused, only smitten.
You leave the reception with a smile on your face, Caleb’s number in your purse, a ton of food, and the bouquet from the wedding toss.