by Lauren Price
He leans towards me.
My throat tightens. “I don’t know.” I shrug awkwardly. “I just know where to draw the line I guess. Sometimes you have to know when a person needs you to comfort them or just to shut up.”
His hands slowly pull away my mop, and he drops it to the floor.
“Do you think,” he breathes, putting his hands behind my waist and pulling me to him. “Do you think it would be okay if we shut up now?” His lips are just inches from mine, and I revel in the feeling. The electricity of the air, the burning in my chest.
I nod slightly, and Alec doesn’t hesitate a second. His lips press onto mine again, and the delicious warm feeling spreads through my veins once more. I’ve missed it. Kissing him, it’s amazing. My arms loop up round his neck, and his hands pull my waist to press tightly against him. The sun feels like it’s beaming from inside my chest, and I wonder if every kiss with Alec will feel like this, if this amazing feeling ever really goes away.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
I glance at the stove in surprise. Looks like our brownies are ready.
Reluctantly, I pull away from Alec to turn the timer off, my hands shaking. I release a breath, grabbing a towel and pulling a tray of very strange, pale brownies from the stove. I place them onto the cooling rack. I don’t care about the brownies right now, or anything for that matter. Alec kissed me again. My skin feels hotter than the inside of the oven, my pulse racing. Even though I can’t bring myself to focus on anything but the boy behind me, no part of me can bring myself to turn round and face him either.
Why hasn’t he said anything?
I stand there dumbly, staring at nothing.
Finally, I feel a hand wrap round my arm and tug me round. Fingers lift my chin up and I find myself staring into a pair of deep cobalt eyes.
Alec releases a short breath, and his scent fans over my face. Slowly, after evaluating my reaction, he closes his eyes and rests his forehead on mine. “Is this real?” he croaks.
I let out a short breathy laugh. “Apparently.”
It’s so hard to concentrate when a drool-worthy boy has his forehead pressed to yours and is looking into your eyes, let me tell you. Already I’m starting to overthink. What are we going to do now? What if he’s not ready to commit? His eyes close and his eyebrows furrow. What about –
“I like you,” he says, and his eyes open.
My heart hits the floor, and I have to fight to remain calm.
“I really, really like you in fact, and I’m a jerk for not admitting this until now, I know . . . but I can’t say that I love you yet, because the truth is that I’m as inexperienced as they come in that area. I have no idea what love is, how to show it . . . and one of the reasons I’ve left it so long to tell you this is the fact that I know you can do better – you can find someone who’ll love you back the right way. But at the end of the day, I’m crazy about you. And if there’s a chance that you feel anywhere near as strongly as I feel, then I honestly think this could work. I want to make this work.”
His eyes are earnest and my heart is exploding.
Somehow I manage to find words.
“I want this. I want you.”
As he registers what I’ve said, his expression morphs into the most stunning smile I think I’ve ever seen a human wear, and it’s too much. Way too much for my feeble heart to cope with. His arms wrap round my back, and he pulls me towards him like a magnet. All space between us is gone in a second, and I bring my lips to his to reignite the flame. It’s stronger this time – maybe because I know for certain that this is it now, we’re a thing. Maybe because I’m above cloud nine. Maybe because this is the first time I’ve initiated a kiss with him, and the ecstasy that overwhelms me when he returns it just as eagerly is the best feeling in the world. I smile against his lips, and his hands shoot up to cup my face and everything is perfect. So sweetly, deliciously perfect.
“How many times did you practise that speech?” I smile. My pulse is throbbing at the strain my heart is under. Honestly, if I ever do date Alec Wilde for real, then I may suffer from some kind of heart disease – they’ll have to keep me in hospital day and night, I swear.
“Just a couple of hundred.”
“Favourite movie?” I ask Alec, rolling the green Skittle around on my tongue as I wait for his reply. I’m lying sprawled across his chest in my rainbow leggings and my favourite big blue sweater. My heart is still fluttering at the fact that this beautiful, sweet and irritatingly cocky boy is holding me, and I can’t quite help but marvel at my luck. Today has been the epitome of perfection. Alec’s arms tighten round my waist.
“Probably something like The Fast and the Furious or The Dark Knight,” he admits, grabbing a Skittle from the bag nestled in my lap. Words can’t describe how cosy I feel right now – I’m in my softest clothes, with my crush’s arms round me and a bag of Skittles in my lap.
“What’s yours?” Alec asks me.
“The Dark Knight or Gone in 60 Seconds.” I grin contentedly. “Favourite food?”
“Steak,” Alec replies. His fingers unconsciously trace the skin of my arms, causing me to shiver. “What’s your favourite song?”
“ ‘Misfit’ by High Dive Heart,” I decide after a hesitation. To be honest, my favourite song changes every day – but so far, that has been my all-time favourite. “Favourite colour?”
“Probably navy. Will you be my girlfriend?”
I freeze. “What?”
I turn round in his arms to look at him, but his eyes show no sight of deceit or teasing. He’s offering me a small smile, and his eyes are glinting darkly in the dim lighting. The freckles on his cheeks, which I once didn’t realise were there, are now a prominent feature on his chiselled, gorgeous face.
“Really? You want me to be your girlfriend?” My eyebrows fly skyward, and excitement bubbles in my stomach as his smile enlarges.
“Yep. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Not at all,” I reply innocently. “But aren’t you going to win me over with a line first? C’mon, Alec – you have to bring out the big guns here.”
Alec pouts. “You want me to think of a line?”
I grin cheekily. “Of course.”
He sighs exasperatedly, but I can tell he’s only teasing. He knows as well as I do that I’ll say yes no matter what line he pulls on me, but sue me – I’m curious as to which one is his best line. Alec turns me round in his lap so that I’m facing him, and I eye his excited face curiously.
“Honey, you’re so sweet that you’ll put Hershey’s out of business,” Alec drawls. “And speaking of Hershey’s – how about a kiss?”
“That was your best one? Seriously?” I can’t help it – I’m not impressed. After all the other hilarious lines he’s given me in the past, this can’t be his best.
“No,” Alec snorts. “But I already know you want to be my girlfrien.”
“You mean girlfriend,” I correct him.
“What?”
“You didn’t pronounce the ‘D’. . .”
“Oh.” Alec smirks. “Don’t you worry about that. You’ll get the D later.”
Oh my God. I fell straight into that one. I curse and smack his chest, watching as Alec bursts into deep peals of laughter. That was bad, and I can’t believe I fell for it.
“You’re a jerk,” I tell him. I bite my lip and look away, giggling.
Alec feigns surprise. “The ice queen fell for my little pickup line? Does this mean you’ll be my girlfriend?”
“Maybe.”
“Okay, let me rephrase that.” Alec clicks his tongue daringly. “Would you like to be my girlfriend? If yes, then breathe. If no, then lick your elbow.” He pulls me closer, a defiant smirk on his lips. Instantly I take a deep breath and he grins.
“Now that’s settled, I should probably get going.” He climbs up off my bed and over to my window, and I watch him go with an air of nostalgia around me. A few months ago, he did exactly that with my bra in his hand. R
eluctantly, I peel myself off the bed and follow him over to my window to say goodbye. After pressing a light and sweet kiss to my lips, he jumps over to his own windowsill with his reflexes as catlike as ever. When he reaches his room, I smile shyly and go to press the window down.
“Oh wait!” Alec cries out as he remembers something, and I spin back around to see him fumbling just below the windowsill. He grins when he finally grabs whatever object it is, and then looks up at me as he chucks it carefully onto my windowsill. “Here, have this back.”
I step closer to examine the object which is now hanging from my window.
Holy macaroni cheese.
On toast.
With extra ketchup.
It’s my Mickey Mouse bra.
I stare in pure shock at the bra I haven’t seen in four months.
“Where did I hide it? If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” He grins as I stare at him, speechless. This annoying, cocky, infuriating bra thief is now my boyfriend. I think people should pray for me – I might not survive otherwise.
Or at least, my underwear won’t.
24
Kissing the Bride
“Do you, Fiona Hughes, take Marie Wilde to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Fiona smiles. Her eyes are bright and sparkling even from where I’m standing, her hands clasped romantically in Marie’s.
“I do,” she replies easily, and I can see the shake of Marie’s shoulders as more joyous tears escape her eyes.
Marie looks absolutely stunning; her white dress is modest yet so pretty – long-sleeved with lace detailing. Her wild curls are tamed into a gorgeous studded bun, with tendrils escaping, and she looks more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her. Fiona wears a more understated black dress. Alec told me that she’s never been drawn to the glitz and glamour of weddings, but she’s tearing up just at the sight of Marie. I think everyone else is too.
Gah, this emotion is too much for me to handle.
“And do you, Marie Wilde” – the minister turns to Marie with a smile that crinkles the corner of his eyes – “take Fiona Hughes to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do,” Marie whispers.
I can’t see her face at the moment; I’m standing angled behind her, along with Natasha and Millie.
We make up Marie’s bridal party, alongside Rosa – the maid of honour. All of us are clutching small bunches of orchids, and our dresses are a gorgeous silken grey, each in a unique style. I share a small smile with Natasha as Marie says the words, tears pricking the edges of my eyes no matter how hard I fight to restrain them. Since Fiona came back for good, Marie has been the happiest I’ve seen her in the short months I’ve known her. Fiona is by far the friendliest and funniest woman I think I’ve ever known, and it’s safe to say that Alec was under-exaggerating when he described her as “nice”. It’s clear that the whole family worships Fiona, and from what I can see of her face right now as she gazes into Marie’s with complete and utter love – the feeling is mutual.
How can I stop myself from crying when everything is so perfect?
“Then I now pronounce you wife and wife,” the minister announces, his face breaking out into a smile so large that I’m afraid it will break out of his delicate, thin-skinned face. “You may now both kiss the bride.”
And Fiona does. She uses their intertwined fingers to pull Marie closer until their lips meet. I can see only the back of Marie’s head from where I’m standing in the bridal party, but by the cheering and applause coming from the crowd I can tell that everything is pretty spectacular. I catch eyes with Alec, who is standing beside Fiona and grinning as he claps with everyone else, his eyes trained solely on me.
I blush. You’d have thought I’d have gotten used to him looking at me by now, wouldn’t you? I mean, we have been dating for eight months. Still, none of the effect that Alec used to have on me has faded, and I have to say I’m glad about that. I grin widely at him, ignoring my bunch of flowers as my own hands collide in congratulations for the newlyweds. Marie and Fiona turn to face the crowd, and for the first time in half an hour I see more than the back of Marie’s head. Her face is tear-stained, but her eyes are shining, and she looks absolutely gorgeous. With linked hands, the pair begin to walk back down the aisle, and the audience stand up. The wedding is over. The vows have been said.
“Oh my Lord, that was so beautiful,” cries Natasha beside me.
Her mascara is halfway down her face, and her thin black hair has been twisted and pulled back in an intricate design. I never pictured her as a hopeless romantic, but apparently she is. I guess I should’ve expected it – Joe’s turned into a right romantic recently under her watch, and the pair have been dating for just under a month now. She was the one to man up and tell him first, believe it or not, and he obviously accepted. I really admire her courage, and sometimes I wish that I could’ve been the one to ask Alec out first – it might have saved a lot of my confusion and his anger if I did.
Ah well, I guess everything’s worked out well in the end.
“I know.” I smile to Natasha, wiping the salt trails away from below my eyes. “They both look so beautiful.”
Natasha nods before pulling me into a hug and resting her chin on my shoulder.
“It’s been nice seeing you, fellow bridesmaid.” She grins through the tears. “I’ll miss you. Alec doesn’t bring you to visit often enough! The wedding preparation has been so much fun, though.”
I smile nostalgically at this. The last month has been hectic with rehearsals, bridesmaid training, dress fittings, etc. Rosa, the maid of honour, has been coping astonishingly well, and she’s been the rock that both the brides needed to get through all this. More often than not, Marie has taken the planning headlong – with my mom as a trusty helper. I glance to the side and see her, sitting happily in the second row and talking to Jack. She and Marie have been closer than ever recently, and I wonder if Marie regrets not asking Mom to be part of her bridal team. But that’s such a small detail. The whole wedding has gone according to plan, and it would take a fool not to see how happy Marie and Fiona are with everything.
I glance around the room as people begin to climb out of their seats. It’s time for the wedding after-party, which is being hosted next door in the main room of the country club where the engagement party was held. I’m not going to lie, I’m looking forward to going back – that place was so glamorous. With the way I’m dressed up now, I feel particularly excited. I glance down at my bridesmaid dress. It’s the same grey as Millie and Natasha, but where mine has a gorgeous studded neckline, Natasha’s is strapless and Millie’s has spaghetti straps. Millie turned five recently and she’s the cutest little five-year-old in the world. Her hair is longer now, curly and darker like Marie’s – and it’s twisted into a fancy updo which closely resembles mine.
“You look very grown up,” I tell her, squeezing her hand. She looks up at me with a grateful toothy smile. “Are you happy that your mommy and Fiona are married now?”
She nods excitedly for a second, but then her expression turns crestfallen.
“They won’t let me go on holiday with them. I want to go to Paris!” She pouts, her eyebrows furrowing cutely.
On her fifth birthday, I couldn’t resist but buy her a new tea set. It’s the biggest set the store had, and it’s pink – her favourite colour. I bought it to commemorate the time when I first met her, when we played with the tea set, which is now chipped and old. I thought she deserved a new one, and I was right – she adores it.
“Aww.” I frown. “Yeah, I want to go to Paris too, but you know what? You get to spend the next two weeks with Auntie Rosa, Natasha, me and Alec. That’s a pretty good holiday, isn’t it?” I kneel down and offer her a smile, poking her gently in the ribs to make her giggle.
She nods shyly.
I dread the day when this little angel grows up, I honestly do.
I stand back up and release Millie’s hand, only to have arms wrap themselves round my waist fr
om behind and lips pressed to my collarbone. Alec. I spin round in his arms with a smile on my face, staring up at the gorgeous boy in front of me. His lips are cracked into a cheeky smirk, his eyes brighter than usual and staring down at my face. His role at his mother’s wedding? Well, he gave her away; he walked down the aisle with the bride. Unlike me as I walked, he was resolved and calm and did all the right things. I looked like a bit of a mess when I did it – it was a tremendous struggle not to trip over my dress in the heels, despite the amount I’ve practised in the past month. But in the end I didn’t fall over, which I consider an achievement.
“Alec Hughes.” The boy in front of me wrinkles his nose as he says his new name. “It doesn’t have quite the same ring to it as Alec Wilde does it?”
His fingers stroke the small of my back tauntingly, and he pulls me closer to peck me on the forehead.
“Well,” I point out, smiling, “your mom did say you could keep your surname if you want to. Just because she’s becoming a Hughes-Wilde doesn’t mean you have to, too.”
“Ah,” he sighs. “But you’re missing the point. I refuse to have a wife one day called ‘Riley Wilde’. The sounds are too monotonous. ‘Riley Hughes-Wilde’ sounds better, even if it isn’t my original surname. I’ll get used to it.”
He shrugs, but by this point my jaw is on the floor. Did he seriously just joke about getting married to me? My heart thunders in my ribs, and I can feel a blush spread across my cheeks – thick and crimson. He can’t be serious. Is he trying to make me die of heart failure?
“W-what?” I choke out, eyes wide as I stare at him. Recently he’s begun to grow a little stubble on his chin, and I’d be lying if I said that it wasn’t the sexiest thing for miles around. I guess it’s his new look for senior year, and he’s turning eighteen soon.