Jacob: Well, now that I’m three hours behind you, I feel like even more of a lazy bum. You’ve probably been up for hours and already ran a marathon.
I smiled, typing out a text back before I slipped my phone in my purse.
“Jacob?” Aunt Laura asked, one eyebrow raised as she sipped on her coffee. My blush answered for me, and she smiled. “Seems like it’s getting pretty serious. How long has it been now?”
“Seven months,” I said, and my stomach flittered on the wings of a million butterflies.
I loved Jacob.
It had taken me a while to realize it, but I did. He was my best friend in California, and I was with him at least three times a week. We had our hobbies we did together, like browsing farmers’ markets and filling our weekends with live music and long days in the sun, while still having our separate lives apart, like running for me and CrossFit for him.
Plus, the sex was amazing.
And that was exactly the kind of relationship I needed.
He was easy. Effortless.
It was unlike anything I’d experienced before.
“I like him,” Aunt Laura said definitively. “He was such a gentleman when I was there for Christmas.”
“He’s always like that,” I mused with a distant smile. “I’ve never met anyone like him.”
“Hmm… maybe it’ll be your wedding that brings you back to New Hampshire next time.”
I snorted a laugh. “Alright, Al. Don’t get ahead of yourself. How’s the shop?”
My aunt was fourteen when my mom had me, so she had always felt more like an older sister than an aunt. Of course, she’d had to be my guardian for a time, too, but she’d never really had to punish me or put me in line. For the most part, I was a good kid — save for the weekend party every now and then that would get me in trouble.
But Al owned the one and only beauty salon in town, one of just a few in the entire county, and it was she who I thanked for showing me how to shape my eyebrows and highlight my hair and paint my nails. Those things had seemed like rocket science to me before I moved in with her. I could watch my mom do her makeup and hair all day long, but I never knew where to start.
Sometimes, I even felt like I favored Aunt Laura more than my own mother. We both had blonde hair, whereas my mom was brunette, and our eyes were a bright blue, while Mom’s was more a shade of gray. Mom had curves, whereas Aunt Laura and I were more lean and toned.
But maybe I just wanted to have more in common with Al, to put even more space between my mother and me. Not that I had to try hard to do that — she hadn’t even attempted to reach out to me since the day she left for Phoenix, other than once a few years later when she called Aunt Laura and asked how I was. Of course, Aunt Laura told her she should go see me and find out herself, but my mom was too much of a coward to face the outcome after abandoning me.
And I was too hardened by resentment to ever reach out to her.
It had to be hard for my aunt, too, to lose her sister the way she did. The day my mom left us in Bridgechester had severed the two of them, driving the final nail into the coffin of their relationship. Aunt Laura didn’t approve of my mother’s actions, and my mother didn’t want to salvage their relationship if it meant giving up what she wanted in Phoenix with her boyfriend.
I didn’t even know if they were still together anymore.
More importantly, I didn’t care.
My stomach soured just at the thought of her, and I shook it off, focusing on Aunt Laura as she told me about the new dip stations for nails at the salon, and the latest hair trends that were making her go crazy. Conversation flowed easily from there, and we covered everything from the podcast to what shows we were bingeing on Netflix before the alarm pinged on my phone, letting me know it was time to head out.
I sighed. “Welp, that’s my cue. Time for the wedding madness to begin.”
“I can’t believe she’s planning this thing in two weeks.”
“You can’t?” I challenged.
“Well, okay, I can, but seriously, don’t most brides take a year? A year and a half?”
“Morgan isn’t most brides,” I said on a chuckle, standing as I fished cash from my wallet. Aunt Laura stood with me and stopped my hand before I could withdraw it.
“Don’t even think about it, Jazzy Girl. This one’s on me.” She pulled me in for a hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow night for the party.”
“Pray for my sanity in the meantime,” I told her.
She laughed, pulling back and holding onto my arms as her eyes wandered over me. “I wish my sister could see the woman you’ve become.”
My chest tightened, and in lieu of acknowledging that statement, I just kissed her cheek and squeezed her hand in my own. “I’m just trying to keep up with my bad ass aunt.”
She waved me off, but I didn’t miss the glossing of her eyes. “I’m still so mad at her, you know,” she whispered, tugging on a strand of my long hair. “For leaving you. For leaving us. But, I miss her sometimes, and wonder what it would have been like if she’d stayed.”
“I don’t.”
It was a lie, but Aunt Laura didn’t call me on it.
I gave her one last smile and made my way out of the diner, out onto Main Street, which was already filling with tourists and residents alike. The buzz of excitement washed out any residual ick left over from talking about my mom, and I smiled, taking it all in.
Summer was just around the corner, and I could feel it in the air.
The promise of longer days and hotter nights.
The rest of the afternoon blew by in a blur of chiffon and diamonds.
I met Morgan and her mom at the only dress boutique in town right after breakfast with my aunt, and Morgan tried on every dress there until she found the perfect one. It was short and unconventional, a cream color as opposed to bright white, with lace details that covered the sweetheart neckline and an open back. It tapered at her slim waist, the skirt soft and flowy, and when she did a twirl and the skirt flew up like Sandy’s in Grease, she gave a squeal of approval and delight.
The seamstress pinned it with the minor alterations, promising to have it ready in a week, and then it was my turn.
Getting Morgan to decide on colors was apparently the most difficult task — one her mom had been trying to accomplish for the last few days. She had me put on every color from a forest green to Easter egg yellow. But when she saw me in a long, lilac dress with slim spaghetti straps and a long slit up the side, she gasped, clapping her hands together with glee.
And that was it, decision made.
The rest of the wedding would be tailored around the fact that she liked the way that purple dress looked on me, and I smiled, because it was so perfectly Morgan.
I was the only bridesmaid, and, news to me, Tyler would be the only groomsman. He and Oliver had grown close over the last year, apparently, and Oliver’s best friend was living abroad, teaching English in South Korea, and couldn’t make it home for the wedding on such short notice.
So, it would just be the two of us standing up there with the bride and groom.
Peachy.
Once the dresses were in order, we met Oliver at the jeweler. It was my first time meeting him in person, and I knew right away that I liked him. He was tall and sort of goofy, with dark brown skin and a smile that lit up the entire room when he flashed it. He was just like Morgan in the sense that he had an energy that seemed to flow off of him, permeating everything around him, filling each person he talked to with joy.
If I didn’t already know before, I knew it the moment I saw them together.
They were meant to be.
I watched the lovebirds with warmth swimming in my chest as they picked out his ring and found the perfect band to match hers, too. It didn’t take nearly as long as we had at the dress shop, but still, I was exhausted by the time we left.
And still not done with the day’s tasks.
After a quick dinner, we were all gathered in the Wagner’
s front yard, ready to hear the three bands auditioning for the reception.
“You better stop that,” Mrs. Wagner warned, leaning over her husband’s chair to whisper to me as I covered another yawn with my palm. “This is just day one.”
“I never knew trying on dresses could be so tiring.”
Mr. Wagner gave a grunt of a laugh at that. “You should have flown in early to condition with my wife and daughter. Lord knows they could shop all day.”
Mrs. Wagner pinched his face in her hands, kissing his cheek and giving me a wink before we turned our attention back to the band that had just finished setting up on the lawn.
“Alright,” Morgan said, holding her white clipboard that said Bride in a silver script. “This is The Alchemists. They’re based out of Portland and have been playing together for four years now. Let’s give them a hand.”
I chuckled under my breath at her introduction, since there were only six of us there. Still, we all clapped, which also seemed to amuse the band as Morgan took her seat next to Oliver. He slipped his hand over her knee and kissed her cheek like she was the most perfect, most adorable thing he’d ever seen, and then the band began to play.
Each band played three songs — two fast, one slow — putting on a mini concert on the Wagner’s front lawn for us. When the third band was auditioning, Robert held out his hand for Amanda’s, and they stood, smiling lovingly at each other as they slow danced in the grass to the band’s rendition of “Can’t Help Falling In Love” by Elvis Presley.
“Oh!” Morgan said, eyes wide. “Yes, I love that. It helps to see dancing. Brings it all together.” She snapped her fingers. “Jasmine, Ty, you guys dance, too. Maybe then I can picture it, you know?”
She said the words excitedly, fingers tapping her temples as she squinted through her oversized glasses at the makeshift dance floor. And under normal circumstances I would have laughed and teased her and obliged her because that’s what I always did with Morgan. One look from that girl and I’d do whatever she wanted.
Except that she’d just asked me to dance with her brother, and the last time he’d touched me, I’d been so burned I still hadn’t fully recovered.
I stared at Morgan for the longest time before my eyes found Tyler’s, and he was looking at me with the same sense of dread. We’d purposefully positioned ourselves on exact opposite sides of the line of chairs, but now, it didn’t seem to matter how much distance we’d tried to put between us.
“Come on,” she pleaded, clapping her hands together with a pouty lip aimed at me first, and then her brother. “It’s just for a few songs. Pleaseee.”
Tyler’s eyes rolled up to the sky as he stood, and he slipped his hands into the pockets of his khakis, waiting for me to join him.
I swallowed, glancing at Oliver like he might save me. Of course, he was completely oblivious, and completely caught up in his bride-to-be. He watched her with a curious smile, like he was still figuring her out and he loved every new discovery.
I tried to seem unaffected when I finally stood on slightly trembling legs, keeping my eyes on the grass as I made my way out to where Amanda and Robert were dancing. I stood there with my arms crossed until Tyler stood directly in front of me, his hands still in his pockets.
“Oh, come on, guys,” Morgan said exasperatedly. “You act like you didn’t dance a thousand times in high school.”
Tyler’s gaze was unreadable, and he pulled his hands from his pockets, holding one out for mine.
My heart tripped over its next beat, catching up with a double thunk in my chest as I slipped my hand into his. And the moment our skin made contact, a flood rushed through me.
It was searing hot. It was icy cold. It was all-encompassing and enough to send a wave of chills down every inch of my body as he pulled me closer, pulled me in, wrapped his other hand around my waist and settled his dark eyes on mine as we started to sway.
I swore I’d never see that boy again, and now he had me in his arms — just like he did that night so long ago.
The song seemed to go on forever, stretching in slow motion as our feet moved in time, a sort of two-step back and forth as we flowed around his parents. Tyler’s eyes never left mine, not even when I glanced around the yard, at his parents, at Morgan and Oliver, at the ground. Every time I lifted my eyes to his again, they were there — a steady, persistent gaze.
“So, how have you been the past seven years?”
It was like him speaking broke the trance, and I narrowed my gaze, instantly annoyed. “Peachy. You?”
That earned me a chuckle. “Just swell.”
We danced in silence again, but he had that stupid smirk on his stupid face.
“What?”
Tyler shook his head. “Nothing. Just looking at you.” He paused. “That okay? Can I look at you, Jasmine?”
My next swallow came with more difficulty than any I’d ever had in my life, and I had no clue why. I also had no answer for his question, and the silence stretched between us once more.
“You seem nervous,” he said under his breath as the song neared the end.
“I’m not.”
“You’re shaking.”
I ground my teeth, ignoring him and looking at Morgan like she would possibly signal for this torture to end. But then Tyler’s hand at my hip swept lower, over, until the length of his forearm covered the small of my back and our chests brushed.
I looked up at him with my next breath shallow in my chest, my lips parted, but I didn’t have time to ask him what the hell he was doing before I was dipped backward.
“Relax,” he commanded me as one foot left the ground. I balanced on the other, all of my weight teetering on his arm, pulled steady with his other hand as it found the back of my neck and he dipped me even more.
I was rigid, stiff, opposed to the gesture in every single way.
But when he whispered that word again with his dark eyes still on mine, something inside me clicked.
Relax.
And I melted.
My back arched, my head falling back with my hair slipping over his hand and down like a waterfall. I held onto him, and he held onto me, and for a moment in time, I was suspended in a space where I had to trust Tyler Wagner not to let me fall.
And he didn’t.
When the last note of the song rang through the yard, he pulled me back upright, my hair falling over my shoulders as our chests met in the middle. He looked down his nose at me, and I stared at his chest, our arms still wrapped around each other, nearly every inch of us connected in a field of heat.
Morgan clapped, and the spell was broken.
“That was amazing!” she squealed, jumping up from her chair and rushing over to us. Oliver was right behind her, and he put his arm around her shoulders as they addressed the band.
She didn’t even consider seeing us dance with the other bands. It was like the fact that this one had gotten her parents up out of their chairs to dance was a sign.
Just like that, her mind was made up.
Tyler released his grip on me just marginally, but enough for me to take my first full breath and then take a full step back, until we were no longer touching at all.
He slipped his hands back into his pockets again, and then he offered me something between a smirk and a grimace, and without another word to anyone, he brushed past me, making his way toward the house.
Morgan and Oliver shook hands with every member of the band, and her dad talked money with the lead singer while her mom talked to the other two bands waiting at the edge of the drive.
And I stood there frozen, watching Tyler’s back, still feeling the brand of his hands on mine.
What the hell was that?
The cicadas were singing loudly in the trees that surrounded the Wagner’s property later that night when I slipped out onto the back patio, my laptop in tow. The sun had set hours ago and taken the warmth of the day with it, so I wrapped my thick cardigan around me a little tighter as I made my way to the large table
next to their pool.
Steam gently rose from the aqua depths, the water dark but for the small bit of light the moon offered. That same moonlight streaked across the lake in the distance, but otherwise, the yard was dim and quiet.
I debated dangling my bare feet in the pool, knowing the water was heated, but thought better of it, since I hadn’t brought a towel with me. Instead, I sat my laptop up on the table, tucking my feet underneath me in the plush chair that accompanied it.
I typed in my password, rubbing my tired eyes and then taking a moment to just enjoy the evening around me as my home screen loaded.
As much as I didn’t ever want to come back to Bridgechester, I had missed it.
I missed the leaves turning colors in the fall, missed having seasons — period. It was the same one all the time in California, a perpetual spring. I’d found it lovely at first, but over time, found myself longing for red and yellow leaves, for snow, and even for the muddy season that always wedged its way between winter and spring.
I missed the charm of our small town, the smell of my Aunt Laura’s favorite coffee and her famous banana bread in the oven, the nights spent riding around town with Morgan and Tyler, doing nothing at all but staying up until the sun rose over our town’s winding roads.
Morgan had called a rain check on our night of catching up, mostly because Oliver was in town and she had so much of the wedding planning to catch him up on. I figured most of the two weeks I’d be here would be like that — her caught up in the wedding — and that was exactly how it should be.
I had work to do, anyway, but sitting outside had me reminiscing, thinking about how many summer nights Tyler, Morgan, and I had played in that pool, sometimes even getting brave enough to ditch it and run straight down to jump off the dock and into the lake, which was far from heated, but exhilarating in a way nothing else was to a couple of kids.
A smile found my lips at the memories, but in the next second, something shot up in the middle of the pool, and I screamed, jumping up and grabbing my laptop over my head like it was a weapon ready to strike.
When the source of the disruption came into focus, Tyler shaking his head and sending water flying everywhere off the ends of his shaggy hair, I let out a long, relieved breath, lowering my laptop as my heart pounded in my chest.
Make Me Hate You: A Best Friend's Brother Romance Page 4