Weekend Fling

by Claire Kingsley

  I need a little time to relax and get all this love stuff out of my mind. I cannot be in love with Finn. I haven’t known him long enough. Impulsive and spontaneous are two words no one would ever use to describe me. Same with words like hasty, reckless, or impetuous. And this thing that I’m doing? Worrying about whether a man I’ve known for nine days is ever going to want to get married? That’s all those things and more.

  No, I need to get back to the go with the flow thing I was doing. That’s what I did when I stepped in to kiss Finn on my birthday. I went with it. I didn’t worry about what would happen the next day, let alone next year. Same with when I agreed to come with him this weekend. Like he said, the decision was simple. I wanted to spend another weekend with him, so I said yes.

  At no point has he ever misrepresented what this is. He’s never claimed we’re actually dating, or in a relationship that is going to extend past this little fling. To be fair, I doubt he’s even thinking about it. He said he doesn’t like to think too much about the future. He probably isn’t considering what happens tomorrow when he takes me home.

  And you know what? I’m not going to either. I can totally do this.

  Of course, I’m going to need more wine.

  I follow Finn to the buffet to get some dinner. I’ll say one thing for his family: they know how to do food. There are at least eight different kinds of bread, fried ravioli, some sort of chicken dish, a huge pasta bar, lasagna, something that I think has eggplant in it, plus an assortment of cheeses and olives garnished with huge purple grapes. I don’t have much of an appetite, but I’ve just had a glass and a half of wine in less than ten minutes, so I figure I’m in trouble if I don’t eat something.

  Finn pauses near the end of the buffet to talk to his mother. He kisses her on both cheeks and she squeezes his arms. She glances at me, then says something to him that I can’t hear. I see him shake his head and laugh, and I get the feeling she just said something awkward. I hang back, pretending like I’m analyzing the olive selection, and wait until his mother moves on. Then Finn grins at me and nods toward a table with some empty chairs.

  Why does he have to look so amazing in that suit? I walked out of the bathroom when we were getting ready and almost choked. I’ve only seen him in casual clothes, and I like his laid-back style. But holy shit, he cleans up well. The sharp lines of his suit contrast with the rugged, careless look of his stubble and slightly messy hair. He’s adorable and sexy and handsome all at once, and maybe I should have taken him up on his offer to leave the reception and go back to our room.

  We’ll get there. For now, a little food. And a lot more wine.

  We sit to eat, and I’m totally nailing this go with the flow thing. Maybe my smile is a little bit forced. And maybe I laugh a little too quickly when Finn says something funny. But I’m sure he can’t tell. I just need to keep a lid on my feelings for a little bit longer. I’ve got this.

  Finn chats with a few people at our table. I notice him glancing at the doors pretty frequently. I think he wants to leave. I do too, but the longer we sit at this wedding reception—because the fact that we’re at a fucking wedding is not doing anything good for my mental state—the more I want to put off being alone with him again. Maybe we’ll just stay here and close down the party. That way we’ll both be too tired to do anything but go back to the room and sleep.

  I have another glass of wine. I think this is my third? It’s telling that I’m not sure. I try to think of all the things I’ve been counting since this afternoon.

  Number of times I’ve thought about how good Finn looks in that suit: sixteen.

  Number of times I’ve imagined this is our wedding and Finn is in a suit because he’s the groom: twelve.

  Number of times I’ve contemplated where we would go on a honeymoon: nine.

  Number of times I’ve told myself to shut the fuck up and stop being insane: thirty-seven.

  And counting.

  The bride and groom stand while a few people give toasts, and everyone cheers and drinks. They cut the cake and neither of them smash it in the other’s face, despite numerous shouts of encouragement from the crowd to do so. We’re sitting near the dance floor, so we have a front row seat for the first dance. Someone passes out little slices of cake, and I finish my wine while we eat.

  When the customary first dances are done, the music cranks louder, the lights are turned low, and people surge onto the dance floor.

  I grab Finn’s arm. “We should dance.”

  “Oh, no, I don’t really dance,” he says.

  “Come on,” I say, tugging him harder. “Live for today, right?”

  He raises his eyebrows and one corner of his mouth turns up in a half-smile. “Really, I’m a terrible dancer.”

  I let go of his arm and shrug. “Fine, I’ll find someone else to dance with.”

  It’s possible that at this point, I’m a little drunk.

  I put my hands on my hips and look around for a likely candidate. I spot his cousin Rhonda nearby. She’s standing next to another table, talking with what I’m guessing are more of Finn’s cousins. Perfect.

  I walk over to her and grab her hand. “Rhonda! Let’s dance!”

  She lifts her arm and hollers, then leads me out to the dance floor. A few of the other cousins follow and we make a circle among the bouncing kids and the dancing couples. One song ends, blending into another, and I move to the music, laughing and singing the lyrics I know.

  More people join us and I let go of any worries I’d normally have over what I look like out on the dance floor. Madison and Becca would be so proud of me. I move my hips and raise my arms and throw my head back as we all sing along to the chorus. Mary, the bride, comes out and we put her in the center of our circle, cheering her on as she lifts the hem of her dress off the floor and dances.

  A slow song begins and people start pairing off or going back to their seats. Rhonda disappears, and since she’s the only person I really know other than Finn, I decide to go back to our table.

  I turn and almost crash into Finn. He grabs my arms to steady me, then slips one hand around my waist. With his other hand, he takes mine and holds it up. We start moving side to side to the slow beat of the music, and his eyes lock onto mine.

  “I thought you don’t dance,” I say.

  He grins. “I can handle this kind of dancing. But I’m not very good at it.”

  I suppose it’s true that we’re not doing much with our feet, but he pulls me closer and his hand on my lower back feels like heaven. He tucks our clasped hands between his chest and my shoulder and leans his forehead down to mine. We sway back and forth and the world seems to fall away. It’s just the two of us, moving in a gentle rhythm to a love song that I know will, from this moment forward, always make me want to cry.

  He puts his mouth near my ear. “I liked watching you dance. That was fun.”

  My neck tingles from the warmth of his breath and a shiver runs down my spine.

  “Should we go upstairs?” he asks, still talking softly into my ear.

  Am I ready yet? Can I keep up with the game I’m playing and stay in character? Can I be spontaneous, fun-loving, no worries for the future Juliet for just a little longer?

  I really don’t know.

  Finn holds me tight. “It feels so good to hold you, Juliet. I could do this forever.”

  Oh god, Finn. Don’t say things like that. Please.

  I step away and wrench my hand from his grasp. “You don’t believe in forever.”

  The doors leading outside are closest, so I head for them and hurry out. I can’t look at him anymore. I can’t stand there, dancing with him at a fucking wedding, while he looks so perfect and feels so good. He follows me out, but I keep walking up the path, hugging my arms around myself against the chill. He calls my name, but I don’t stop.

  I don’t think I can do this anymore.

  23

  Juliet

  It doesn’t take long for Finn to catch up with me. I’m
in heels, for one, and I’m not really trying to get away. I just couldn’t keep dancing with him like that, especially when he started using words like forever.

  “Juliet, what’s going on?”

  I stop. Is there any point in pretending something isn’t bothering me? My head’s a little fuzzy from the wine, but not enough that I don’t know what I’m doing. But what the hell am I supposed to say?

  I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Today has just been overwhelming.”

  He runs his hands along my upper arms. “I know, I’m sorry. I tend to do this; I don’t always think things through. I didn’t think about what it would be like to come to a wedding with my whole family here. This was probably not the best idea.”

  “No, your family is fine,” I say. “That’s not the problem.”

  “Then what is the problem?”

  I look away. “It’s just… you said you’re never going to get married. And I kind of can’t get that out of my head.”

  He steps back. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Well, it’s a big deal,” I say. “It’s like if I told you I was planning to move to China in a few months. You’d know our time was limited.”

  He smiles and his dimples stand out. “Sprinkles, what are you talking about?”

  His smile only pisses me off and I move back. “Don’t act like this is meaningless. I realize you want to go through your life pretending tomorrow doesn’t matter, but it matters to me. And when you told me that you’ll never get married, I realized that, for us, there is no tomorrow.”

  “What?”

  “This is going to end,” I say. “I can’t pretend I don’t want marriage and a family. That’s where I want my life to go. And if you don’t…”

  His brow furrows. “God, Juliet, why are you so obsessed with knowing the future? You can’t plan for everything.”

  “I know I can’t.” I’m starting to feel shaky. “But I can’t live with something this big being so uncertain.”

  “Something this big?” he asks. “Why are we even having this conversation right now?

  “Because I’m in love with you.”

  I clap my hand over my mouth, my eyes widening. Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I just blurted that out and now he’s looking at me like I’m insane. He’s realizing he brought a crazy woman with him to this wedding.

  “Oh god. I didn’t mean to say that. I…”

  I turn and run.

  “Juliet, wait!”

  If you’ve never tried to run across grass in heels, I don’t recommend it. About halfway to the hotel, my left heel sinks into the ground and I almost fall on my face trying to keep my shoe on my foot. This is without a doubt the most undignified thing I’ve ever done.

  Finn is right behind me. Fuck, I can’t even pull off a proper dramatic exit.

  “Juliet, stop.”

  My other shoe gets stuck in the ground and he grabs me from behind to keep me from falling.

  I stop and cover my mouth again while my eyes fill with tears. This is so humiliating.

  “Juliet, please, we need to talk about this.”

  “No,” I say through my hand.

  He ignores my protest. “Come on.”

  He leads me across the grass, but we veer away from the doors to the reception. There’s a patio nearby with a circle of empty chairs.

  I sniff, swiping tears from beneath my eyes, and take a seat. Finn sits next to me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “Don’t listen to me. It’s probably just the wine, and being at a wedding and everything. That sort of fell out of my mouth by accident.”

  “By accident?” he asks. “You didn’t mean it?”

  Does he want me to mean it? Or is he hoping I’ll backtrack and tell him I didn’t?

  I force out a fake laugh. “Well, that’s crazy, right? This is just a fling. It’s not supposed to mean something. Not like that.”

  “Is that what you think?” he asks. “It’s just a fling?”

  “I don’t know, Finn,” I say, slumping back in the chair. “Since the day I met you, I’ve been trying to go with the flow, and just let this be what it is. But I can’t keep doing that. Not with what I’m feeling.”

  “Okay, then tell me what you’re feeling.”

  I keep my eyes locked on the ground. I’m afraid to look at him. “I’m feeling a lot of things, and that’s ridiculous because we basically just met. But being with you is… it’s amazing. You’re amazing. It’s not just what you can do to my body—although my god, Finn, I’ve never had such incredible sex in my entire life.”

  “Me neither.”

  I glance up at him and laugh a little. “I guess that’s good. It isn’t just me.”

  “No,” he says. “Definitely not just you.”

  “See, you need to stop being wonderful and saying things like that. Especially when you say them in that voice, because I can hear your accent and it’s so sexy.” I pause and take a deep breath. “But what I’m feeling is more than just being attracted to you, or wanting you to ravage me multiple times a day. And yes, I realize how insane that is. This whole thing is totally out of character for me. But I think I’m reaching the limit of how far outside my comfort zone I can stay. At some point, I need to think about what comes next. What comes tomorrow, and next week, and next month, and beyond that. And if we’re just having some fun and that’s the end of it… honestly, I don’t think I can do that anymore. What I’m feeling for you won’t let me, and the longer this goes on, the deeper I’m going to get.”

  “I’m feeling things for you too.”

  “You are?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “I don’t really know what to make of all this.”

  “But the future is still the same,” I say.

  “That’s the point, Juliet, I don’t know the future,” he says. I can hear the frustration in his voice.

  “If you don’t know the future, how can you say you’d never do something?”

  “Because the nature of marriage is an attempt at eternity,” he says. “It doesn’t make any sense. People wonder why so many marriages fail, but they’re doomed from the start. Getting married is like trying to live forever. It doesn’t work.”

  “Some marriages do.”

  He sighs. “Maybe. But that’s not the point. Why can’t we just enjoy this, for what it is, right now?”

  “Because if I know, right now, that this is going to end, how can I torture myself by indulging in it?” I ask. “I’m only going to keep getting attached to you, and it’s going to break me when I can’t keep you.” My voice cracks on the last few words.

  He stands and takes a few steps away. “Who the fuck knows where we’ll be in a few months, or next year, or in ten years?”

  “Well, if you really want to be with someone, you know that where you want to be is together,” I say. “The rest is just details.”

  “I’m supposed to know this, today?” he asks.

  “No, you’re not,” I say. “I’m not saying we need to know that we’re going to get married after spending a couple weekends together. I’m not that crazy. What I’m saying is that I need the possibility to exist. If you’re completely sure you’ll never get married, that means someday we’re going to come up against that wall. And if it’s not something you’ll consider, that will be the end. Because it is something I want.”

  “I can’t change who I am, Juliet,” he says. “I can’t promise you anything. This is how I feel, but I don’t understand why this has to ruin things between us right now.”

  “I can’t change who I am either,” I say. God, I’ve been trying, Finn. I really have.

  He crouches down in front of me and puts his hands on my legs. “This doesn’t have to be it. Right now, I know I want to be with you. That’s what matters to me.”

  My throat thickens and I’m not sure I’ll be able to speak. I swallow hard. “I’m not made that way, Finn. I know you don’t understand. But it’s going to hurt too much to lose you when
it happens. I don’t think I can do that to myself.”

  “I want to tell you what you want to hear,” he says, his voice quiet. “But I won’t lie to you either.”

  “I know.”

  Lie to me, Finn. Do it. Just tell me you’ll think about it. Tell me that someday I might be enough to make you change your mind.

  But he won’t lie to me. And damn it that makes me love him a little bit more.

  I close my eyes against the sting of tears, and Finn squeezes my thighs.

  “Come on, sprinkles,” he says, his voice soft. “You don’t have to overthink this. I have feelings for you too. It’s a lot to handle; I get it. This happened so fast, and I don’t know what to make of it either. All I know is that we still have tonight. Try not to worry about what comes next. We’ll face tomorrow when the sun comes up.”

  I shake my head. “I wish I could, but I just can’t.” I stand and he gets up and moves out of the way. “I’m sorry, Finn…” My voice is choked up from the tears that are about to spill. “I can’t. Just… no.”

  I walk away as quickly as I can, heading for a door that leads into the hotel. I’ll basically die if I have to walk through the reception, so I’m flooded with relief when I see someone come out the side door with a cigarette hanging from his lips. I run the last few steps and the guy holds the door open for me. I slip inside, too afraid to look behind, even though I know Finn isn’t following me.

  I manage to hold myself together in the elevator, biting my lip until it almost bleeds. The small group riding up with me doesn’t pay me any attention, but if I break down into a sobbing mess, it’s going to get ugly. I get to the third floor and head to our room. My hand shakes as I use the room key to open the door.

  Our room? It isn’t ours. It’s a fucking hotel, and I’ve let my head get so far away from me, I don’t know who I am anymore.