“Don’t cry! If you cry, I'll cry.” She laughed, hugging me.
“Oh, and we can’t have that.” Stevie’s mom came up, giving me a small hug as well. “We are already running late. Hurry girls.”
Eli
Why am I here?
No, honestly. Why?
Ever since I had entered the hotel, I kept wondering, why?
Logan grinned beside me like he knew something I didn’t, and my mother was proud because I wasn’t afraid of a wedding…which, as a grown man, should not have been that surprising, but whatever. For some reason, that afternoon I had put on the best suit I owned, polished my shoes, and combed my hair…like I was going to prom. Nevertheless, I was there, at Nathaniel and Stephanie’s wedding, sitting on his side as everyone chatted about how wonderful the wedding hall was. In my mind, not only was the place annoying because the air smelled like one too many damn roses, but it also looked pretty modest in comparison to a lot of the things Hannah had done for ours.
“Oh, don’t they look nice?” My mother smiled at Nathaniel as he and his groomsmen walked in, taking their place at the front under the arch of white and red roses.
“I guess. With those tails, they look like stuffed penguins,” I muttered.
She elbowed me. “If you were going to be sour, why did you come?”
Good question.
“He wants to see someone,” Logan whispered.
Reaching behind my mother, I smacked him on the back of the head. Bad answer.
“You are both grown men, can you act like it, please?” She smacked both of our legs. “Lord in Heaven, help me.”
“Sorry,” we both said, though I still glared. He kept trying to tell me something was going on between Guinevere and me, and in all honesty, it wasn’t. I thought of her as a friend, nothing more, nothing less.
“Oh my god, is that Gwen?” my mother whispered when we all stood up at the sound of the music.
“Can’t be,” I said to myself, watching the person come forward. The Guinevere I knew wore little to no makeup ever, her brown hair was always down or to the side and she didn’t think that much about it, and she barely ever wore jewelry other than her feather earring cuff…which was on that woman's ear.
“It’s her,” I whispered. Just a dolled up version of her.
“She looks amazing,” my mother said as she walked right by us.
“Yeah.” For some reason, trying to think about it made my head hurt.
“The bride is that way.” Logan snickered behind me, and I knew he meant for me to stop looking at Guinevere.
We are just friends. And what kind of friend would one be if they didn’t think their pal had the ability to be attractive sometimes? She looked nice, and there was nothing wrong with saying it or thinking it. I noticed Logan had switched places with my mother to do what all little brothers are born to do: annoy the hell out of me. But, I cut him off before he could say anything. “People like you are the reason why men and women can’t just be friends without anything else going on. She looks nice. You’re thinking it too. What is the big deal?”
He said nothing.
I smirked.
“I was just going to ask if you had gum,” he whispered with a smile.
Trying my best to ignore him, I looked up front. For some reason, most likely because I didn’t know Nathaniel or Stephanie that well, my eyes kept drifting to the only person I did know, standing up front in red. She didn’t look fazed at all, just smiled a small, real smile for her friend. When her eyes shifted and looked out over the crowd, she finally noticed me. Her smile grew, taking up her whole face.
She looks so silly right now. Jeez. Anyone who saw her would think she had won the lottery or something. Lifting my finger, I pointed at her to look back where she was supposed to be looking.
She made a quick face before looking back.
Guinevere
“I’m so happy you’re here,” I said, all but running up to him now that I'd finally managed to rip my face from the photo session as everyone entered the reception hall.
“Why?” he asked casually as the woman in front of the seating chart table handed him a place card with a key dangling from one of the edges.
“You know why. I know you didn’t come for me, but I’m glad someone else is as—”
“Miserable?” He smirked.
“Not miserable, just…” I wasn’t sure how to put it into words, really. I didn’t want him to hate it there, but— “I understand, Guinevere. Don’t think so hard, you'll pop a vein.”
“You know I’ve always wondered, is that really possible?”
He shook his head, searching for his table.
Shifting my head to the side, I looked him up and down. He wore a black bowtie with a classic-fitted black tuxedo that had a nice sleek lining. “You look nice.”
He stopped, looking back at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. So do you. You put in a lot of effort, it—”
“Hey, I can doll up like the best of them. Tonight, I won’t even drool.”
He snickered.
I walked with him.