by Wilde, Ora
“A bet is a bet,” I told him. “You have the keys. Go scram. Take it for a fucking joyride or something. I don’t care. Just get away from my sight.”
“Hayden Summersmith... always the sore loser,” he said with a laugh as he proceeded to click on the remote control button to unlock the doors of my Hummer... my Hummer that I just lost. “Hate to do this to you on the eve of your dad’s wedding...”
“Don’t even go there,” I warned him. He knew about my less than ideal relationship with my father. He probably meant well, but still, I didn’t like it.
“Okay, okay, relax, bro,” he said as he held his hands up in the air, one of them still clutching the keys to my vehicle. “I’ll be going now. But Hayden... just a friendly advice... keep your cool tomorrow, alright?”
I didn’t answer him.
“You may hate your dad with all your heart,” he continued quite unnecessarily, “but his colleagues will be there... people who respect him. Give him that one day... just that one single day. You don’t have to be happy for him. You just don’t have to aggravate things because you despise having to attend that event.”
I gestured for him to leave. He gave me a smile and entered the vehicle. The engine roared and he drove away.
I didn’t want to look... but that Hummer and I have shared so many memories together. I couldn’t take my eyes off until it was out of my sight.
Finally, I was alone at the gazebo in front of the Engineering building. Dusk has come and the campus was quickly becoming empty. I preferred it that way. Less people, more time to think.
And I had a lot to think about.
I can’t believe she said no.
We were almost there. I was just one thrust away from breaking her damn hymen and winning the bet. But she stopped me, and she told me that she wasn’t ready.
I could’ve pretended that I didn’t hear her. One second... just one second... was all I needed to get inside her...
I have to accept that I’m a bad person, and I have come to relish that identity.
But I’m not a rapist.
A great part of the thrill was winning her consent, making her so vulnerable that she would have no other recourse but to allow me to have my way on her. We came to that point. She was at her weakest. My ploy has worked. But at the very last moment, she resisted me.
And that was that.
Only a handful of words were spoken between us before she left the room.
I can’t.
Why.
Because.
But...
Goodbye.
And I was left wondering how things ended up that way. The night went really well. All that I have planned were executed perfectly. She opened up to me. She was so willing to let everything go... to share an evening of reckless passion with me...
Then, she just walked away.
It’s been more than a week since that evening, yet, her rejection was still fresh in my mind. How could it not be? The memory of that moment kept haunting me. It was the first time that a woman has turned me down... and I wasn’t even interested with this particular girl in the first place.
She walked out on me.
Damn.
But it wasn’t the last time that I would see her, no.
Tomorrow, my father will marry her mom, and we’ll be one big happy family.
Bullshit.
The old geezer knocked her up and he decided on marrying her all of a sudden? How completely idiotic was that? If I was careless enough to impregnate any of the girls I have fucked, I wouldn’t even consider marriage. To be tied up to one woman for the rest of my life? Just the thought of it suffocated me.
And I will have to live with that woman he’ll soon call his wife. Knowing him, he’d want me to call her mom. Fuck that. I don’t want anything to do with her, and I will never, ever call her by that name. If he could easily desecrate the memory of my mother because his dick can’t keep itself in check, then screw him. That’s his problem. I have my own life... I have my own mind... and I am entitled to my own choices. Calling her by a name that I hold dear will never be one of them.
And her daughter...
Her sweet, innocent daughter...
Stepsister, huh?
She’d live in the same house as me for one week and I could easily turn her into a slut.
Easily.
But what’s the point?
She walked away. She rejected my advances. She lost her chance. I should just forget her and move on. There are prettier girls out there. Slimmer... more glamorous... more elegant... more refined... more beautiful...
She doesn’t want me? That’s fine. Her loss, not mine. After all...
Hayden’s Life Lesson No. 182: Always remember, she’s just a girl - perfectly replaceable. If she doesn’t want anything to do with you, leave her and find someone else.
She’s not worth my time. Ruminating about what ifs and what could have beens would just be a waste. I should move on... forget about her...
But somehow...
Somehow, I always began to hate myself whenever I tried to explain why I can’t stop thinking about her.
Chapter 28
PHOEBE
Late for Biology. Gotta run faster.
Too many people crowding the hallway. Hard to squeeze between the throng of students chatting and loitering outside their classrooms.
I almost lost my virginity. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
Did I forget my lunch stub? No. It should be in my bag.
A group of students hogging the space that occupied the corridor. How insensitive!
Say ‘excuse me.’ Forget your irritation. You’re a freshman. Respect tradition.
“Excuse me,” I said, as I made my way through the crowd of around seven people huddled together to form a blockade along the very narrow passage that led to my Biology class. They gave me sharp looks. I didn’t care. I just forced my way past them. I was late... and there were so many things in my mind.
It’s been more than a week. Why haven’t I heard from him?
Tomorrow’s my mom’s wedding but the thought of it hasn’t sank in yet. I was too preoccupied with him.
What was on his mind? Was he being sincere? When he said I was beautiful, did he mean it? The effort he exerted, the preparations he has made, the gestures he has shown... were any of them real?
Snap out of it, Phoebe! He’s just a guy! And he’s probably not into you, anyway. It’s just part of the bet you forced him to take. It’s all a sham.
As the bell rang to signal the start of the third period for the day, the corridor began to clear up, making it easier for me to dash towards my assigned room. It was just right at the bend at the end of the hallway. Just a few more steps...
A few more steps...
A loud thud greeted me as I turned right. I staggered backwards, dropping my books on the floor.
Crap! Of all the times I could bump into someone, it had to be then, when I was late and my mind was a total mess.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” the voice said as I kneeled down to grab my belongings. It was a man’s voice, deep but charming, with an unmistakable Southern accent that was, admittedly, quite pleasing.
Pleasing enough to make me look at him.
Tall and burly, short dark hair, a square jaw that was masculine in every way, and eyes the color of the bluest ocean that I figured would shimmer even more when he’d smile.
He went on the floor to help me pick up my things, apologizing repeatedly for what he perceived was his carelessness.
“No... it’s okay,” I told him. “It’s my fault, I wasn’t looking.”
He took the last notebook that was left on the ground, stood up and gave it to me.
“No, actually I was the one who wasn’t looking,” he said. He had a distinct tone that simply oozed with gentle virility.
I looked at him and saw his remorseful face. His sight caused me to smile.
“We’re both stumblebums, then,” I kidded him.
“I guess we are,” he said as his lips curved into a grin.
Ah... I was right! His eyes glimmered more brightly when he smiled.
“I’m Joshua, by the way,” he introduced himself as he extended his hand. “Joshua Taylor.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Joshua,” I replied as I shook his hand. “My name’s Phoebe. Phoebe Ellison. And I’m late for Biology.”
“And I’m late for Communication Arts II,” he answered back.
“Sophomore?”
“Freshman?”
“Sadly, yes.”
“Well, don’t let any of them nasties bully you, Phoebe Ellison,” he advised. “And if they do, just look for me as backup. I’m just... around.”
“See you... around... then, Joshua Taylor.”
“Yes, Ma’am. See you... around.”
He started to walk towards the bend from where I came from, but before he could make a turn, he looked back and gave me one final smile.
That was a delightful surprise.
A welcome respite from the doom and gloom I’ve been feeling the past week, what with the uncertainty surrounding Hayden’s feelings for me... and my own feelings for him.
I barely made it to class on time. The professor was about to do the roll call when I entered the room. I proceeded to my seat and opened my book, hoping to drown myself in the task at hand to forget about the whirlwind of emotions that has plagued me for days.
Joshua.
He seemed like a very nice guy. Well-mannered. A gentleman. Very courteous. Very... genuine.
Something which I couldn’t say about Hayden.
But even as flights of fancy danced around my head while the professor delivered his lecture... of Joshua and the romantic possibilities with him... of my mom’s wedding and how grand it would be... of a new living arrangement that could actually be quite enjoyable... I still can’t stop thinking...
Of the man who stole my heart...
Of the man who has driven me to the brink of insanity with the mysteries behind his ways...
Of the man who, by this time tomorrow, would be my brother...
Chapter 29
HAYDEN
“Why the fuck hasn’t the ceremony started?”
I may have asked that question too loudly that my voice echoed a little throughout the expansive interiors of The Church of the Good Shepherd. Anton, my cousin who was one of the groomsmen, placed his finger over his lips, reminding me to keep my voice down.
“Your mom’s not yet here,” he said with a wry smile.
“Oh, shut the fuck up!” I screamed at him. He knew how I felt about the situation, and he just uttered those words to rile me up.
I’ve been cussing... more than usual... at every turn. I have had a little too much to drink before leaving the house and proceeding to the church. Alcohol... the refuge of those who wade in anger and anguish. Anguish, I had little. Anger, I was brimming with. The day I dreaded has come, and there was no escape.
I could’ve stayed home. Or elsewhere. Anywhere. Away from that church. Away from the ceremony that was about to be celebrated.
But the old man made me his best man, and if it weren’t for the old belief that turning down such an honor would bring years of bad luck, I would’ve booked a flight to Tahiti to enjoy a glass of Margarita as they exchanged their shallow I do’s in front of people who had to be polite to applaud.
“That’s a good start to their marriage,” I sarcastically remarked.
“Don’t think too much about it,” Anton said. “Brides are always late.”
“Really now?”
“What? Haven’t you attended a wedding before?”
Twice or thrice, if I remembered correctly. The truth was: I hated weddings. Overly glorified celebrations for something that, statistically speaking, would end up disastrously anyway. It was just a reason for people to drink and be merry rather than honor the union of two hearts.
I didn’t know about the be merry part, but I sure as hell was planning on doing more drinking that day.
Anton decided to go inside the church with the rest of the groomsmen, leaving me alone to the solitude I preferred. I pulled out my pack of Dunhills and lit up a stick. I watched the people who were quickly filling up the cathedral. Everyone came in their best suits and dresses... a few people I was familiar with, a lot I haven’t even seen in my entire life. How many of them were friends of my father’s, I wondered? How many were from that slut’s family?
A number of them brought some lavish gifts to church. Not that I knew what were inside the wrapped boxes, but the sizes of their presents - many of which were carried by their own private personnel - would give a hint as to the value of what were inside. I chuckled. Their gifts, their warm smiles, their excited demeanor... it was all for show. It was a church, for crying out loud! A place of worship. Where the fuck will they place their gifts? On the damn aisle? If their intention was to trip the bride, I’d commend them. But they weren’t that bright. They just wanted everyone to see how much they have prepared for my father’s big day, hoping that he’d sign on the dotted line of a document they were peddling, or promote their child who was working for him, or grant them a loan - an investment as they would put it - for some venture that, given their propensity for theatrics, would prove to be all glitter with no substance.
Before I finished my cigarette, however, the crowd began to stand up and look outside towards where I was. They were smiling and chitchatting, and some were even hooting. I looked behind me to see what they were staring at.
It was the bridal car that has parked in front of the church’s massive entranceway.
A small, middle-aged woman frantically ordered people to go to their respective places. She was most probably the wedding coordinator. She gathered up the bridesmaids - some of whom looked fine and highly doable, especially the blonde who kept looking at me for the past hour or so flashing her pretentious smile which she tried to cover up with feigned shyness - and the groomsmen, which unfortunately included me, and asked us to form a line at the end of the aisle and ready ourselves for the march.
The march...
It was more like a parade. Not the type that was filled with pageantry and glamor. The kind that circus folks used to do in olden times, when they’d announce their arrival in town.
I saw my father stand up at the other end of the aisle, right in front of the altar. He seemed happy. How could he not be happy? He had a much younger woman to fuck every night.
We were supposed to walk towards the front row. The bridesmaids will sit on the left and the groomsmen will sit on right. I, being the Best Man - the thought of which was enough to make my blood boil - had to stand beside my father and we’d wait for the bride to complete his long, plodding walk towards us. I just hoped it would be faster than what I feared. The sooner she’d get there, the sooner the stupid celebration would be over.
The door of the bridal car - a white Rolls Royce limousine, as my father seemed to have pulled out all the stops for the event - opened. I was expecting the gold digger to come out. Instead, a younger figure - female, dressed in a tubed gown of royal white with intricately embroidered ornaments that fell pale in comparison to the radiance of her presence - alighted from the vehicle.
Her head was bowed down as she was careful not to step on the edge of her dress. She kept her head inclined as she took her first few steps towards the line that was awaiting her.
The awkward walk of gracelessness and agony. The discomfort of her heels. The sophisticated simplicity of her ways.
I didn’t have to see her face.
It was her.
She took her position at the back of the line, right beside me. She didn’t even say hello. I kept looking at her, flashing a smile that would hopefully catch her attention... to no avail.
The organ played, a slow version of All Of Me. If I was the groom, I would’ve fired the wedding planner.
The coordinator asked the bridesmaids and the groomsmen to start their march
by pairs. Two by two, the lines diminished until only she and I were left.
“You’re supposed to place your hand around mine,” I told her with a dry smile.
She clicked her tongue and inserted her hand over the space between the arch of my arm.
Then we started to walk towards the altar. She was smiling at the guests, timorously though. She wasn’t comfortable getting that much attention. I should know. I showered her with overtures for one night and I almost fucked her.
