by Ellie Cahill
He looked startled, but then a slow smile spread over his face. He chuckled, “Wow. Guess I was right.”
I curled my fingers tightly around my rum and coke and glared at him once more before I walked away. I waited until I was out of his sight before I let the rage and frustration flood over me. I set my drink on the nearest flat surface and pressed my fingers into my temples, taking long, shuddering breaths to control myself.
“You okay?” the voice came from behind my left shoulder and I whipped around to look for the source.
An all-too-familiar face was standing there, looking shocked by my sudden move. Will Brady.
“Whoa!” he said, putting up both hands protectively. “You don’t have a knife, do you?”
I didn’t want to laugh, but my lips twitched, a few ounces of anger draining out of me. “No. Sorry. You startled me.”
“I gathered. What’s up your butt?”
Such a classy gentleman.
“Nothing.” I changed my mind as soon as the word was out of my mouth. “No, you know what? There’s this guy who is sitting at the same stupid table with me—probably with all the other single losers, and he’s a complete creep and I just want him to…I don’t know, get hit by a falling disco ball or something.”
Will grinned. “Wow, vicious.”
“I thought it was nicer than getting hit by a car.”
“I don’t know.” He squinted in thought. “That’s a lot of small pieces of glass…”
“He’d deserve it.”
“This guy must really suck.”
“He’s one of those redhead guys.”
“I would think you of all people would be sympathetic to a guy with red hair.”
“He doesn’t have red hair, he’s into red hair.”
“Ahh.” Will understood immediately. “Well, I can’t hardly fault him there. Redheads are hot.”
“Oh Jesus, not you, too.”
Will ignored me as if I hadn’t spoken. “But blondes are hot, brunettes are hot…girls with black hair…” he sucked air through his teeth. “Hot.”
I gave him a dead-eyed look. “Are you done?”
“Not remotely. Girls with blue hair, or purple hair…hell, I like a good-looking bald chick from time to time.”
Now I couldn’t help laughing. “You meet a lot of bald ‘chicks’?” I did air-quotes around the “chicks” to show my feelings on his use of the word.
“Not a lot, but you know…I like to keep my options open.”
“Well then you and Dan will have plenty to discuss at dinner.”
“Dan?”
“The guy.”
“Ah.” Will turned his attention from me to scan the place cards lined up on the table where I’d happened to set my drink. He found his easily and held it up to show me. “Table 18.”
“You, me, and Dan.”
“Lucky us.” Will sighed. “You need a drink to fortify you?” he asked.
“Already on it.” I reached back to retrieve my lowball glass and made the ice rattle for him.
“Atta girl. In that case, you want to join me at the bar to avoid Dan for now?”
“Yes, please.”
I followed him back to the bar, sipping my drink along the way, and scanning ahead for any sign of Dan. Luckily he seemed to be out of the area for the moment.
Will and I loitered near the bar for the rest of cocktail hour, getting refills on our drinks while the bar was still open, and going through the same small-talk routine with a dozen or so people from the neighborhood where we grew up. They were all our parents’ ages and most of them no longer lived in the neighborhood. There was a lot of exclaiming about us both being all grown up, and plenty of questions about what we were doing with ourselves now.
“You’re working for your father, aren’t you?” they asked Will. “Just like James?”
“And what do you do, Hadley?”
“Your brother is getting married, isn’t he? How exciting! Your wedding can’t be far off, eh?”
“Anyone special in your life?”
“Did I hear that you have a baby now, dear?”
It wasn’t their fault. Not any one of them individually anyway. But by the time the bell rang, signaling that it was time to go in for dinner, I felt about an inch tall. Nope, no one special in my life right now. Nope, not getting married any time soon. No, still living at home with my parents. Nope, not doing anything with my degree. And no, I definitely don’t have a baby—thank god.
I walked slowly toward Table 18, feeling more like I was going to my own funeral than an old friend’s wedding banquet. I wasn’t even all the way to the table before I spotted Dan scanning the crowd. As soon as he saw me, he smiled and gestured to the empty seat beside him.
This jackass really thought I was going to sit with him at dinner? I was going to kill Maddy’s husband. Cousin or not, he’d clearly said something to Dan to make him think I was going to be all-in on this singles’ table meet cute he’d imagined for himself.
I made up my mind then and there to find another place to sit. I’d just go back to the lobby and find an unclaimed place card. There had to be someone who hadn’t shown up. There had to be an empty seat somewhere. I didn’t care if I ended up at a table with all the kids under twelve. Or all the great-aunts and great-uncles and I had to spend the whole dinner shouting explanations about who I was to all of them while they struggled to adjust their hearing aids over the noise of the crowd and the DJ.
Fuck politeness. I was not sitting with Dan. Mr. Redheads are Fiesty could go fuck himself.
And that’s when I felt the hand on the small of my back and the presence of a much taller human as he bent to speak softly to me. “Go with me on this.”
Will.
Too stunned to protest, I let him guide me to Table 18. When we got there, he said, “Do you know if these seats are taken?” to Dan, pointing at two chairs at the opposite side from where my would-be suitor had staked a claim.
“I don’t think so,” Dan said.
“Great.” He smiled and pulled one of the chairs back for me. “Here you go, sweetheart.”
Dumbfounded, I took my seat, gazing up at Will in confusion while he pulled out his own chair and sat beside me. He caught me staring and winked at me before he turned his attention back to Dan.
“Hey, how you doing? I’m Will. This is my girlfriend, Hadley.”
My eyes almost fell out of my head at the magnitude of the lie.
“Oh,” Dan stammered. “I thought this was a singles’ table.”
Will played dumb, looking at Dan, then me, and shrugging. “Guess not.”
Another man arrived at the table, and the introductions began again, but as soon as I had a chance I leaned in to whisper to Will. “What are you doing?”
“Saving you from this chucklehead.”
“I can handle myself.”
“I know you can.” He smiled. “But at least this gives me something to pass the time.”
“What if someone we know heard you call me your girlfriend?”
“Then we tell them it was a lie to save you from Dan the Man over there.” He slid his arm over the back of my chair, leaning in. “Try to look like you’re not so horrified by the idea, okay?”
“Why?”
“For Dan.” He smiled at me. “Besides, I’m not completely horrible as fake boyfriends go for one night, am I?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Not…completely horrible.”
“Then fake it better.”
I glanced at Dan from the corner of my eye, and saw that he was indeed still watching me. So I smiled and leaned even closer to Will, biting my lip and looking up at him with wide eyes. “Better?” I asked.
“It’s a start.”
6
The Designated +1
There was something satisfying about pulling this trick over on Dan. As much as I hated the idea that I needed to be “owned” by another man to get him off my case, that my own lack of interest wasn’t sufficient reason
for him to back off, it was shamefully fun to rub his nose in it. If he was the kind of guy who would only respect another man’s claim on a girl to back off, I was going to be the most claimed girl he’d ever had the misfortune to hit on.
I leaned on Will’s shoulder during the toasts, and squeezed his bicep as if we were sharing some secret memory at certain points. The points were randomly chosen, which I hoped added to the mystery and authenticity of the fake intimacy.
When dinner was served, I discovered that Will and I had ordered different meals, and I offered him a bite of my roasted potatoes. In true, nauseating couple fashion, he not only said yes, but he leaned in and captured the bite from the fork while it was still in my hand.
For his part, Dan didn’t say a word to me the entire time we shared a table. Oh, he stared at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. And the looks got less than kind the more and more Will and I amped up our act.
It was small and petty, but I loved it.
By the time the guests were invited to go out on the dance floor for the first dance, I wasn’t at all surprised that Will stood up and offered me his hand. He didn’t even ask me to dance, it was just assumed.
I took his hand, startled by the roughness of his fingers for a second, but I didn’t react. Just smiled and let him lead me out to the floor. He went all the way with the ruse, too, leading me into a wide arc before pulling me into a dance pose.
“So, you mad at me?” he asked as we started to sway together.
“No,” I shook my head.
“Good.”
“I wish guys like that would just take the damn hint without you needing to rescue me, but still. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We moved to the music. Will had decent rhythm, which surprised me. Not that I’d ever given much thought to Will Brady’s sense of the beat before. Just knowing the other things I knew about him, I guess I assumed he’d be a clod on the dance floor. I wouldn’t say he was destined for Dancing with the Stars, per se, but neither was I.
“It’s weird to see you tall,” he said, glancing down at my three-inch heels.
“First of all, I am taller than the average woman, thank you very much.” It might be only a quarter inch, but it counted, damn it. “And second of all, my feet are killing me.”
He laughed. “Want to start a pool? See how long before every girl in this place is barefoot?”
I jerked my thumb in the direction of the bridesmaids, who were dancing nearby. One of them was already wearing bright pink flip flops. “Too late.”
Will shook his head. “Why do you guys even bother wearing the high heels? You never keep them on.”
“Because we look hot in them.”
“Okay, yeah.”
I gave him a playful swat on the shoulder. “Don’t be gross.”
“You’re the one who said it first.”
“I’m allowed.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
The DJ eased the slower song into something a little more upbeat, but still danceable. I expected Will to lead me off the floor, but we stayed out, still moving to the music. He made it halfway through a third song, before he announced that he was going to sweat to death and needed a drink. I accepted his offer of another rum and coke, but stayed on the dance floor to join Maddie and some of the other girls I grew up with.
This was the part of weddings that I never minded. I loved to dance, especially when there were a lot of people my own age at the wedding. The music was always so much cheesier and less pretentious than at a dance club. And no one cared how bad of a dancer you were at a wedding. As long as you were having fun, and the bride and groom were happy, it was all good.
So I danced, and took a fresh rum and coke from Will when he returned from the bar, and I felt sorry for the girls that I saw Dan bring out to the dance floor from time to time. None of them seemed to be enjoying his company very much. I almost felt bad for the guy, but seriously dude, if you’re striking out with every female in a 100 mile radius, the problem is you, not them.
And then the DJ took the mic, and made the announcement that I dread above all others. It was time for the bouquet and garter toss.
“Let’s have all the single ladies to the floor. All the single ladies!” he sing-songed with entirely too much cheesy enthusiasm. The eponymous Beyonce song played in the background while people gleefully played a game of Hunt the Single Girls.
I had a few options:
1. Take a convenient and long trip to the bathroom.
2. Play along.
3. Try to hide in the crowd.
I went with option number three, dodging toward the back of the ballroom. I didn’t want to go back to Table 18, knowing it was the actual Singles’ Table and sure to be the main target of all the attention. I decided to try the bar area. If I was engaged in a financial transaction, surely no one would drag me into the god awful bouquet-tossing madness.
Finally I spotted Will hanging out near the bar. I ran toward him. “Don’t let them get me,” I said. “I don’t want the stupid bouquet.”
He laughed. “You want to hide behind me?”
“They’re coming for you next,” I said. “The garter toss isn’t far off.”
“We’re not single tonight, remember?” Will said.
“Doesn’t count.”
As if he’d heard me, the DJ clarified, “We’re looking for all unmarried ladies to please come to the dance floor…”
“See?”
“Well, I’m not pretending to marry you tonight just so you don’t have to do the bouquet toss,” he said. “Fake boyfriend is as far as I go.”
I scowled at him.
“Hadley, you’re supposed to be out there.” My mother, the traitor. Of all the people to turn me in… Where had she even come from?
“No, mom, I don’t want to.” My protests were completely useless. My mother, several glasses of wine into the evening, wasn’t going to listen to anything. Now that she had her single daughter in the crosshairs, she would see me on the dance floor or die trying.
I looked back at Will in one final, desperate plea, but he just shrugged. He knew about moms, and my mom in particular. It was no use.
By the time we got to the dance floor, I was the last victim to be captured and everyone cheered. I gave consideration to running for my life, but I still had my high heels on and I knew I’d never make it. Then Maddie gave me an excited wave and I wasn’t going anywhere. This was my friend’s wedding. We’d played wedding as little girls with pretend veils on our heads, and we’d taken turns catching each other’s bouquets. I would do this for her.
The music started—“Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” because my entire life was a cliché—and Ben covered Maddie’s eyes and spun her around three times. The crowd counted down and then the beautiful bride tossed her beautiful bouquet over her shoulder.
It came at me like a foul ball to the upper deck at a major league baseball game. The target could not have been more clear if she’d had night vision goggles and a red laser on the end of the damn flowers.
I caught it more out of self-defense than anything. If I hadn’t put my hands up, I would have been hit in the head.
Everyone cheered and Maddie ducked out of Ben’s arms to see the result. When she saw me holding the flowers she actually squealed.
Oh. Brother.
The DJ came over and took me by the arm, all the while smooth-talking the room, telling the single men it was their turn to take the floor. I had to stand at the DJ booth, under the flickering light of the disco ball, with a front row seat while they made a huge production out of Ben crawling across the floor to pull the garter off Maddie’s leg. My childhood friend laughed like this was the funniest thing she’d ever seen in her life.
I still wanted to escape, but I stayed, clutching my bouquet and wishing for the sudden onset of invisibility.
The single men arrived at the floor even more slowly than the women had, but finally they were assembled�
��although I couldn’t help noticing that Will wasn’t among them. Dan, however, was front and center. I started prayer to an indeterminate deity: Anyone but him. Anyone but him. Anyone but him.
The garter, thank god, went to some guy named Dave. He appeared to be in his late 40s, but he was polite and he went through bouquet/garter dance without any saying anything about me being feisty, so I chalked it up as a win.
When the dance was over, I found Will standing at the edge of the dance floor with a big grin on his face.
“I can’t believe you chickened out!” I said.
“Nothing chicken about it. I didn’t want to do it.”
“Neither did I!”
“Well, I’d advise getting a foot taller and maybe gaining a hundred or so pounds. Makes you a lot harder to drag places.”
I shook my head at him. “I can’t believe you put me at risk of ending up with Dan. What kind of fake boyfriend are you?”
“Aww, don’t worry baby, I wouldn’t have let mean old Dan hurt you.” He tried to put his arm around me, but I ducked away, laughing.
“I should fire you as my date.”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.”
We left the ballroom to find a quieter spot out in the hall. There were still people around, but at least you could hear yourself think without the DJ.
“What are you doing next Saturday?” he asked.
“I’d have to check my calendar. Why?” This was a bald-faced lie. I had no plans. I thought I had a dog-sitting gig for the weekend, but it wasn’t like I couldn’t get away from the dogs for a little while. Their owners did it all the time.
“You remember I told you I’m invited to my buddy Trent’s wedding?”
“Yeah.”
“Any chance you’d be willing to be my +1?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why?”
He sighed. “Trent’s fiancee really wants to set me up with her sister.”
I raised my eyebrows. “And you’re not interested?”
“Uh. No.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing. I mean, I barely know her. But…” he held up one finger. “She has two kids.”
