by Jordyn White
Ashley blinks. “Tell her... what exactly?”
“Everything.” I know have to come clean, all the way. I’m going to tell Sam I’m in love with Grayson and then... all I can do is hope to God I didn’t just lose one of my best friends. But I’m definitely not going to unleash all this right now and risk upsetting Isabella. The last thing anyone needs is Sam going nuclear on me in the middle of the celebrations. That means I still have two more days to get through somehow.
Fuck. What a week.
“Will you do me a favor?” I ask.
Ashley’s eyes are still wide. She nods mutely.
“Will you please tell Grayson I can’t talk to him until after the reception? I don’t trust myself around him and I definitely don’t want to be alone with him again until I’ve talked to Sam.”
“Um. Okay.”
I exhale, walk heavily to the Bed of Betrayal, and plop onto it. God, I’m a horrible, horrible person. I never knew what a horrible person I am.
Ashley watches me in silence, then says, “Are you guys... together now?”
“I...” I don’t know. Part of me feels like we are, but we didn’t exactly have a chance to discuss it. But if there’s any question, I’ll do everything I can to make it happen.
In two days.
I close my eyes with dread. In two days I’ll likely be finding out if I still have a friendship with Sam or not. After betraying her like this, I can only imagine the shit storm that’s coming my way. I’ve seen it with Sam before, but I’ve never been the target of it.
The truth is, I’ll take every ounce she gives me if she’ll only forgive me at the end of it. But will she?
As for Grayson, I don’t know what he’s going through right now and wish to God I could talk to him about it. But I don’t intend on losing him again. Not if I can help it.
“I hope so,” I finally answer Ashley. “I’ll have to wait to find out.”
I don’t ask what she thinks Sam will say. She doesn’t ask me either. We linger there in quiet acknowledgement of one simple fact: no matter what happens next, this is one, big, fucking disaster.
The next morning, while I’m still in my room getting ready, I get a text from Jack.
Jack: Ashley talked to me.
Great.
Me: Okay.
I look in the mirror. The wedding isn’t until tomorrow, but pictures are this morning. I’m in my bridal dress—a gorgeous teal strapless number with a knee-length, flowing skirt—and am putting the final touches on my makeup. My appointment with the resort’s hair stylist is in fifteen minutes. I’m not sure what the rest of the guests are doing today, but between pictures, the rehearsal, and the rehearsal dinner, my day is pretty much spoken for. I don’t expect I’ll see much of Grayson, and that’s a good thing.
Sort of. I miss him horribly. Traitorous person that I am.
Jack: Do you love him?
Me: Yes.
Jack never responds. I don’t even know what to think about that.
I honestly don’t know what to think about anything.
We’re on the grand balcony at the resort, where the wedding will be held at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. The stone balcony holds two hundred people, with the capability of completely opening the rear to allow for overflow for another four hundred in the interior room. It’s an elegant, beautiful space facing the sea and will be, as I understand it, completely packed for the ceremony tomorrow.
At the front, the elaborate platform and arch under which Isabella and Shane will be married is already decorated with vines, flowers, and twinkle lights. We’ve already taken the group picture with the bridal party, as well as the group picture with the bridal party and all the immediate family.
We’re currently scattered about the balcony in small groups, chatting and waiting to be called up by the photographer. He’s taking pictures with the happy couple and their parents. Isabella is positively radiant. Her happiness is a welcome distraction from my own selfish worries.
As for Sam, I’ve kind of been soaking up this time with my friend. You know, just in case...
She, Ashley, and I are sitting near the rear of the balcony, out of the sun.
“What do you think about Shane’s best man?” Sam asks calmly.
We both look across the way to where the best man is hanging out with the other groomsmen.
“He’s kinda cute,” Sam says, “right?”
“Not interested,” I say.
“Not for you. For me.”
Ashley and I both look at her with wide eyes. She glances at us and shrugs. “I think the thing with Grayson has run its course. Not that I ever got in a full run in to start with.”
Ashley glances at me—I’m just trying to make my face look normal—and asks, “What do you mean?”
Sam sighs. “We had an interesting talk last night. It kind of explained a lot.”
My heart is pounding and I’m terrified Grayson’s already told her everything. But part of me knows if she knew she wouldn’t be sitting here calmly like this, instead of getting ready to claw my eyes out.
“What’s going on?” Ashley presses.
“Well, I’ve been a little frustrated with him because...”
Ashley and I exchange nervous glances.
“Well... we haven’t exactly had the roaring good time I was hoping for.”
We both furrow our brows at her.
She rolls her eyes. “We haven’t had sex,” she clarifies.
“What?!” Ashley and I exclaim together.
“Shh!” Sam glances around. “It’s not exactly something I want to advertise. I have my reputation to think about.”
My head’s spinning, but I’m not thinking about Sam’s reputation.
“Wait,” Ashley says. “You’ve been... sharing the same room right? And how long did you know him before, again?”
Sam shrugs. “Not that long. The way I picked him up was kind of funny, actually. We made out and stuff when we first met, but I wasn’t that worried that it didn’t go further because we just went out once and only texted in between. I figured once we got here it’d be different. But... it’s been so fucking weird with him ever since we got here.”
Ashley and I are holding each other’s gaze. He didn’t sleep with Sam. Oh God, he didn’t sleep with Sam. I want to laugh with relief, but my mortification at the entire situation I’m in successfully prevents it.
“How did you guys share a bed and not sleep together?” Ashley asks. She seems kinda disbelieving, and knowing Sam the way I do, I’d probably be disbelieving too if I weren’t so fucking happy my Sam has never had sex with my Grayson.
Sam raises a hand dismissively. “I don’t want to lay out all the details. Let’s just say I’m not going to force myself on someone who’s not interested, I don’t care how hot he is. Not that I haven’t pulled out every trick in the book. Seducing someone is fair game, as far as I’m concerned.”
Okay, I don’t think I want to hear all this.
“I was...” Sam stops and gets a slightly pained look on her face.
“What?” I ask, concerned.
“I was kinda feeling bad. Like, maybe I’d lost my touch. I’ve never really had to worry about this before. I think I’m pretty good at screening people to start with. I know how to find guys who are willing... I just couldn’t figure out where I got my signals mixed up. I mean, if he’s the kind of guy who likes to wait, that’s fine by me, but then what was he doing agreeing to share a hotel room with me for five nights, you know? What did he think was going to happen? It was kinda freaking me out. And I was none too happy about joining Chloe in the ‘I desperately need a screaming orgasm’ club, I can tell you that right now. He was just so hot and cold about things, you know? I couldn’t figure it out.”
Sam shrugs then. “He finally explained it all last night, though. Apparently, he’s in love with some girl and he thought he was over her but he’s not.”
I look at Ashley urgently.
“So at l
east I know it’s not me,” Sam continues. “But, I gotta say, I would’ve liked him to figure out he was still hung up on this girl a little later because Grayson’s fucking hot and unless I’m wrong, he would’ve been awesome in the sack.”
God, Sam.
“He was actually really sweet about the whole thing once he finally came out with it, though. I couldn’t really be too irritated.”
“But a little irritated?” Ashley asks.
“Well, not with him. He’s a good guy. But yeah I was hoping for more action this week, that’s for damned sure. He offered to go home last night but I decided I didn’t want him to. I mean, we cleared each other to, you know, pursue other options. But I’d rather not throw a kink in things for Isabella. He’ll come to the dinner tonight since it’s assigned seating. I don’t want her worrying if no one’s next to me or feeling like she has to shuffle things around or whatever. It’s not a big deal. But he’ll go home after that.”
“You don’t mind him being there?” Ashley asks.
Sam shrugs. “Nah. He’s cool. It’s not like there’s any hard feelings. I don’t mind if he comes, and he’s willing to go along with it. I think he feels he owes me a favor. Anyway, now that I don’t have to worry about trying to seduce him, I think we’ll get along fine.” Sam gets a devilish grin on her face. “I told him he was totally missing out, though.”
I blink. I’m trying to wrap my head around the idea of Grayson and Sam joking around about the fact that they’re not sleeping together.
“So he’s not coming to the reception?” I ask.
Ashley mouths at me, “Tell her.” I give a subtle but firm head shake no.
“I don’t think he needs to,” Sam answers, “and why would he want to? I’d rather he not be there anyway. It’ll be easier to kinda do my thing, you know? I doubt Isabella will notice his absence and if she does I won’t mind telling her at that point. I just don’t want her worrying about me before then. It’s really fine. Honestly, I’m glad it’s over. I’ve had my eye on a few people since I’ve been here and since Chloe won’t take any of them...”
Wanna trade? I think, but I keep my mouth shut.
God, if only I hadn’t kissed Grayson last night. I could totally fess up right now. But what is she going to think when she finds out I kissed him behind her back like that?
“Maid of Honor!” the photographer calls out. Shane and the parents are exiting the platform, leaving just Isabella. “Then all the bridesmaids.”
Sam turns to me. “How’s my hair?”
I tend to a lock of curls that’s starting to fray, feeling a confusing mix of guilt and hope and fear. She might be okay that things are done with Grayson—an eventuality we all knew was coming anyway—but there’s still a big piece to this puzzle she doesn’t know about and I’m terrified to see her reaction when she does.
I watch Sam approach Isabella, feeling I’ve betrayed all of us, in the end.
“I’m such a horrible friend,” I say to Ashley.
She looks pained. “Maybe I gave you bad advice. Maybe I should have told you to tell her from the start.”
“God, Ashley, none of this is your fault.”
No. It’s all on me.
I look at Isabella and Sam, both looking radiant and smiling for the camera.
It helps to know Sam and Grayson haven’t slept together, and to hear it out of her own mouth that she’s done with him. It does. But none of that changes the fact that I didn’t know any of that when I started making out with Sam’s date.
There’s just no getting around the fact that I betrayed her, and Sam’s going to know it.
I think back to the moment Sam found out Loni slept with Sam’s ex. She hadn’t cared about that guy either. It was the betrayal Sam couldn’t stomach. I remember how she got that hard expression on her face, tore Loni a new one, told her to take a hike, and never looked back.
For all I know, I’m only two days away from the same fate.
After another hour of pictures, a break for lunch, and a repeat of the whole scenario so Isabella and Shane could have more pictures at the beach, I’m pretty exhausted. I change out of my dress and into more comfortable clothes for the rehearsal. By the time that’s all over, we and the rest of the guests are gathering in one of the hotel’s dining halls for the rehearsal dinner.
The food is incredible and there’s even dancing. I wonder what they have in store for the reception if they’re doing all this just for the rehearsal dinner. I stick close to Ashley, who’s doing a good job keeping me away from Grayson. I need the backup too, because I’m having a hard time not going to him. Our eyes have met more than once, but I try not to linger. It’s too hard if I do. I really don’t trust myself right now.
Jack’s date arrived this afternoon, apparently, so she’s keeping him occupied. I’ve barely spoken to him all evening. I’m surprised when, well into the evening’s dancing, he approaches my table during a slow song and quietly asks me to dance.
I look up at him. He’s neither smiling, nor scowling. He’s simply looking at me and holding out his hand. With no small amount of trepidation, I take it. Heart pounding, I allow him to lead me onto the dance floor. I catch Grayson watching us just before Jack stops, pulls me into his arms, and starts to dance.
I don’t say a word. Neither does Jack. He slowly pulls me closer, until we’re holding each other tight. Fighting tears now, I rest my head against his chest.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
After a moment, he says, “I know.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
He sighs, but doesn’t respond.
“Have you told Sam?” I ask.
“Why would I do that?” he asks quietly.
I don’t know. We may joke about who Jack’s favorite is, but we all know it’s Sam.
When I don’t reply he says, “You said you’re going to tell her, right?”
I nod against his chest.
“Okay, then.”
We go through the rest of the dance in silence. When it’s over, he holds me by the shoulders and looks at me. “You tell her all of it,” he says. “The whole story with you two. Okay?”
I don’t answer and he doesn’t wait for me to. He hooks my hand around his arm, escorts me back to the table, thanks me for the dance, and returns to his date.
At that point, I think I’ve had about all I can handle for the evening.
“I’m going to bed,” I say to Ashley. “See you tomorrow.”
“Okay, honey.” She gives me a hug. “I think it’ll be okay.”
Uh-huh.
“We’ll find out,” I say, giving her a small smile.
I’m halfway down the hall, when I hear my name.
I spin and sure enough, there he is, coming toward me. I want to run to him and throw my arms around him and stay there for the rest of my life. What I should do is tell him to keep his distance and walk away myself. Instead I stand there, torn, until he’s nearly to me.
“Wait.” I raise my hand and glance at the empty hallway behind him. “We can’t. Not until I talk to Sam.”
“Can’t what?” He’s wearing a pained expression again. “What are we doing, Chloe?”
I look toward the open doors to the dining hall, the music pouring out. It’s still empty, but that could change at any minute.
He looks behind him too, then takes me by both arms and steers me around a corner.
“We can’t,” I say, retreating farther down this second hallway, with him following me.
“I’m not trying to do anything with you. I just need to talk to you. Please.”
I stop and face him. “I really don’t trust myself around you.”
He blinks at me. “What does that mean? Are you leaving again?”
“Am I—what?”
“Are you done?”
“Done with you? God, Grayson, no.” I put my hands on his chest. His face relaxes a bit, but he still looks anxious. “No,” I say again firmly. “I just... it’s bad en
ough kissing you once behind Sam’s back. I really, really don’t want to do that again. I’m going to talk to her, but not until after the wedding. I don’t want to risk upsetting Isabella.”
He takes a deep breath. “Alright.”
He looks like he wants to kiss me though. This close to him, taking in his smell, I’m having a really, really hard time resisting him too.
I already kissed him once, a traitorous voice inside me says, What difference will one more make?
“Alright,” he says again. “I’ll wait.”
I nod.
Okay. There it is. We’ve both agreed.
But, intending to be good or not, we’re both leaning closer and closer to one another. I’m trying not to, I really am. But my hands grip the front of his shirt as my mouth tilts toward his.
“Only one,” I whisper, just before our lips meet.
“Only one,” he agrees, then his mouth is on mine and I exhale with relief. Oh how I’ve longed for his touch all day.
It’s a short kiss, but it’s all I need. It’s enough to get me through.
We pull away and I don’t linger. I turn and continue down the hall, feeling his eyes on me the entire way.
Chapter 17
The wedding day is here at last. It’s been busy with preparations and yet more hair appointments. We’re less than thirty minutes away from the ceremony. Sam, Ashley, and I are in a dressing room, watching Sam put the final touches on her makeup. Sam’s been busy helping Isabella, who’s in another room with her mother and grandmother, so while we’ve been ready for a bit, she’s just now getting there.
As we sit here, though, I’m starting to realize how quiet Sam’s been. We’ve been so busy, I hadn’t really noticed it. She’s sitting at a vanity, applying her blush, not saying a word.
“You okay, Sam?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Though her answer is short, she doesn’t sound mad or anything. She dips her brush into the compact and starts on the other cheek.