by Lisa Swallow
Unsure whether this is teasing or what he thinks of me, I choose to ignore the comment and switch back to my professional mode. “Thank you. Is there anything else I can get you?”
I don’t miss the sweeping appraisal of my white shirt and black skirt. Or more precisely, my tits and legs. “More soup, maybe?” he asks. “In a bowl this time, please.”
“Okay.”
He hands me the now orange stained towel. “And your name.”
My heart sinks into my shoes. “I thought you said you weren’t going to complain?”
“I’m not. I’d like to know your name as we’ve already been so intimate.”
“Avery.”
“Aviary? Like the place birds live?”
I open my mouth to retort, but there’s no hint of teasing. Does he seriously think anybody would have that as a name?
“No, A-ver-y, like the girl who sucks at waitressing.”
Bryn smiles. “Cool name. Well, good luck with the rest of your shift, cariad.”
I grip the tea towel as Bryn moves back to the throng of the wedding.
Did he just call me cariad?
****
The hyperventilation stops somewhere between entrée and main course as I serve other tables and manage to keep the soup in the bowls. Still, the idea of approaching a table full of famous people I’ve mortally embarrassed myself in front of, is as appealing as my planned night out tomorrow. A pre-Christmas catch-up with school friends returning home after going their separate ways is normally fun. This year not so much. Each year, we drift apart a little more and some drift closer. Such as my now ex and my now ex-best friend.
I’m pulled out of my musing by Kim, who digs me in the ribs. “He asked where you were.”
“Who did?”
“The guy you poured soup on.”
“What? Why?”
Kim shrugs and picks up large plates from the side and hands them to me. “Maybe he wants sexual favours in return for not registering a complaint?”
“What the hell?” Kim’s face shows no hint of teasing. She actually believes this? “I don’t think so.”
“Well, I noticed he’s the only one of them without a date. I’ve always wondered if the guy’s gay, but he definitely appreciated the view when I was serving him.” Kim straightens her white shirt with a grin. “So, he’s probably looking for a hook-up.”
“Be my guest.” I gesture toward the door. Kim’s around my age, studies at catering college and works here part-time. She looks older than me though, one of those girls who’s spent a lot of time studying make-up artistry videos on YouTube. I’m a mascara and lipstick girl. Although, when I’m here, I have to trowel it on a bit thicker to reach Gemma’s standards of grooming.
“Avery! You know I have a boyfriend!”
“Fine, but he can forget trying it on with me.” I take the plates of carved beef and push through the double-doors with my backside. With each step closer to the table, my skin heats an extra degree. I grip the plates, my earlier nervousness about serving Blue Phoenix now multiplied by a thousand after ‘Soupgate’.
Without making eye contact, I place the plates on the table in front of Bryn and the guy next to him. The guy next to him? Huh, try Dylan ‘smoking hot and I wouldn’t need asking twice thank you very much’ Morgan. The blonde-haired girl he’s with is used to reading my kind of reaction to Dylan and arches a brow at me. But Dylan’s not the only attractive guy here; there’s enough testosterone at this table they could bottle it and sell to people who need to get laid.
As this thought crosses my mind, I meet Bryn’s eyes. Standing closer than I’d prefer, my nerves about being around him are confused. Is this anxiety or attraction? Sometimes it’s hard to tell.
Great.
“Thanks,” he says, “looking good.”
“Pardon?” I can’t believe I was just thinking about people getting laid.
“The food. Looks good, cariad.”
“Oh. Right.”
Then Bryn winks at me, followed immediately by a shout of pain and a dirty look at the blonde-haired girl with Dylan. “What the hell did you kick me for?”
“Leave her alone, Bryn. She’s having a bad night,” she says.
“I’m only being friendly!”
“Don’t stress,” says Dylan. “Bryn isn’t one for picking up random chicks.” His words are also followed by a scowl at his girlfriend as she smacks the back of his hand. “What?”
“Chicks!” she hisses.
“Jesus, Sky. Random girls…”
I don’t care what he calls me; Dylan Morgan just bloody spoke to me. I make a noise somewhere between a mumble and a giggle, a sound akin to an injured woodland creature then back away. Bryn’s gaze is fixed on mine; and whatever Dylan says, I recognise that look. The slow smile Bryn gives cements my certainty that he loves my reaction to him.
****
BRYN
Avery carefully weaves her way through the tables toward the kitchen; her shapely ass, squeezed into the conservative length black skirt, centre of my attention.
What about her as tonight’s girl? I’ve watched the chick since the soup incident and the glances we’ve exchanged indicate I wouldn’t be wasting my time if I did turn my attention to this chick. My options are limited, few other guests at the wedding are alone, and most are too old or too young for me.
I’m staying here tonight and if I have my way, she can stay with me.
“Tongue away, Bryn,” says Sky and I blink in her direction. “Stop leering at the waitresses.”
“I’m only leering at one.”
“Hmm.” She fixes me with a sour look.
I turn to Dylan. “Dylan, sometimes your fiancée forgets she’s chosen a lifestyle with rock stars, and that involves our occasional leering at women.”
“I think Sky’s teasing you, mate,” he replies.
Sky gives me a sweet smile. “Leer at who you want.”
“I intend to,” I say gruffly and stab at the asparagus on my plate.
Sky closes her hand around mine. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
“It’s just… you didn’t bring anybody.”
I drag my hand away. “And?” I snap.
“Whoa. Okay.” Sky glances at Dylan.
“I came to this wedding alone by choice.”
“Yeah, and judging by his eyeing up of the waitress, he has reasons,” says Jem. “Gonna get laid, Bryn?”
Sky shoots him a look, but Jem just raises an eyebrow at her.
“Why is my personal life suddenly hot topic of the night?” I growl.
“Calm down, man. We don’t care who you screw,” says Jem. “Mia might though.”
“For fuck’s sake!” I stand and push back the chair, the wood-on-wood screech attracting attention. “I’m always such a fucking joke, aren’t I?”
Several people watch me as I head in the direction of the side doors, but I don’t give a shit. I haven’t had enough to drink to deal with the emotions this event and place pull to the surface.
Wales.
A wedding.
People from school, most of whom I haven’t seen for years. I avoid them, classmates who share my history with the girl who should be with me.
Gritting my teeth, I reach the door. Through the glass, I see snow covering the ground, the smattered powdering from before now changed to piles against nearby walls.
Maybe I won’t go outside.
I rest against the wall and stare at the hideous maroon and cream patterned wallpaper opposite, and take deep breaths. I should go back to my hotel room before my miserable bastard attitude rubs off on anybody else.
I’m close to the kitchen door and Avery heads out with an arm full of dinner plates. Her delicate features are pulled into a look of heavy concentration. She’s cute. I’m reminded of my damp trousers and her beetroot red face when she attempted to dry my crotch, giving me a great view of her ample tits as she leaned forward.
Is she a Blue Phoenix
fan? I hope so because that’ll make this easier. In the past, my status has helped get me laid, about time I started again. The girl heads off with the plates and my imagination follows her.
Chapter Five
AVERY
Weddings. My least favourite function to work. Family feuds lurking below the respectable surface are unearthed by copious amounts of alcohol, and this makes weddings unpredictable on a number of levels. The noise in the room grows louder as the day grows later. Attempting to shut down any desire by my body to respond to the rock star hormonal attack, I hold my breath as I edge around their table to collect plates and hand out desserts. I don’t know if Bryn gives me any more ‘looks’ because I won’t ‘look’ at him. I plead with Kim to serve the coffee because my ability to control liquid tonight hasn’t been great, and I’m convinced I’ll end up scalding someone who won’t be as understanding.
The bright sunshine of the day disappears into a winter’s evening. The snow remains thick on the ground and looks set to stay that way. At least, with no new falls today, the taxi I need to get home will be able to reach the castle.
The room is rearranged, furniture pushed back to open up the dance floor and prepare for the evening. Guests in various rates of inebriation either dance or loiter around the tables and when I return from the kitchen, the bride and groom have already taken to the dance floor.
More couple happiness. Ugh.
I head out to swap empty water jugs for the full ones I’m carrying in each hand. The Blue Phoenix band members have split up, Dylan and his girlfriend dance, and Jem plus his red-haired girlfriend are head to head in the corner. No Bryn. What makes somebody like him come to a wedding alone? Surely, he’d have no shortage of volunteers to attend with him. Hell, I bet he could’ve auctioned off the spot to the highest bidder.
Liam’s extended family occupies two tables close by and although most are older, I’ve noticed a couple of dewy-eyed girls watching Bryn. The cliché about best man and bridesmaid is out; one of them is five and the other currently has her face glued to another guy. I put a jug of water on the table and lean across to pick up the empty one.
Somebody squeezes my ass then proceeds to slide a hand up the back of my short skirt toward a place that definitely isn’t my ass, or accidental.
I twist around, smacking the hand away. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
A guy with short-brown hair and eyes awash with alcohol smiles at me. “Just being friendly, love.”
I gape. “Friendly? That’s assault!”
He laughs at me. “Calm down!”
Too late, my brain has tripped my body into shaking anger and disgust, away from rational reactions. I grab the full water jug and tip the contents slowly over his head. For a moment, he remains seated, confusion flowing across his face to match the water flowing down his back. Gathering his wits, the guy jumps up.
“What the hell are you doing?” he shouts and gestures to the other table occupants. “Look at what she did!”
He looks at the middle-aged couple next to him who stare at me in a similar stupefied fashion. Through the dimly lit room, I’m aware the spectacle I’ve created has attracted the attention of the majority of the wedding guests. And my boss.
****
Attempting to quell the adrenaline racing through my system, I rest against the stone wall with my thick, black jacket wrapped around me. I won’t be able to stay outside long. My toes already feel the bite of the cold, but if I remain inside, my bad evening would get infinitely worse. Worse than losing my job? Probably, because when the stupid cow sacked me, the things she said riled me so badly I wanted to slap her. I’m not a violent person but tonight has tested my limits.
I breathe deeply and look at the stars that manage to peek out from behind the grey clouds, watching my breath fog in front of me. At least this isn’t my real job, another semester at uni and I can look for something more worthwhile. Something away from spillable liquids.
The door creaks open behind and a tall figure appears next to me. “You okay?”
I jerk my head round in surprise and meet the concerned eyes of Bryn, simultaneously losing all the oxygen from my lungs.
I clear my throat. “I will be.”
“Bad night, huh?” he asks and rests against the wall next to me.
“You could say that,” I reply with a small laugh.
Bryn’s jacket-less, the heavy muscles of his forearms stretching the fabric of the white shirt underneath. He’s dispensed with the tie he wore earlier and his smooth, defined chest is visible where the top buttons of his shirt are undone. Hello again, hormones.
“You checking me out, Avery?” he asks.
“No.”
“‘Course not.”
I pull my jacket tighter and bury my nose into the padded material. Well, maybe a little. We stand in silence for a couple of minutes while I attempt to figure out exactly why he’s outside in the freezing weather. I’m pretty sure he hasn’t just been abused and sacked.
“Bad night for you, too?” I ask eventually.
“Nah. It’s good to see Liam happy and spend time with the guys. We’ve been apart a fair bit recently.”
“Yeah?” I’m not a huge Blue Phoenix fan. I could take or leave their music and I don’t pay attention to their career path.
“It’s been weird. I’m not used to living outside of the band. Everything’s changing.” Bryn rests against the wall next to me.
“People change.”
“Yeah, they grow up and get married.”
This is one weird conversation, never mind the fact he’s choosing to have it with me. “Not wild enough for you anymore?”
Bryn laughs and pushes some of the curls from his face. “I’m not into wild. Never was really. No, I mean best friends becoming couples and…” He pauses. “Nah.”
“And not you?”
He side glances me. “Possibly.”
“Well, if it’s any comfort, I know exactly where you’re coming from.”
“How’s that?”
“Most of my friends have paired off. Well, I’m at uni and come home to find some engaged, others with babies, and it’s weird. Three years ago, we all hung out doing stupid stuff together. It’s like they’re different people.”
“And you haven’t hooked up with anyone? No special guy in your life?”
I bury my nose back in my jacket. Bryn addles my brain. I never paid attention to him before. I’m ashamed to admit I bought into the Dylan Morgan fantasies, but up close, Bryn certainly competes. I can’t figure out why; I mean, yeah, he’s solid muscle and wasn’t exactly hit with the ugly stick, but he exudes something. Star power? Confidence? My proximity to him triggers weird reactions and he hasn’t touched me.
Nor is he going to.
“I hope that’s not a suggestion,” I say.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not with anyone but I’m not your best bet for tonight. I think you’ll find plenty of takers inside.”
“Me? Like Dylan said, not my style when it comes to matters of the heart.”
“What’s your style?”
Bryn’s mouth tips at one corner. “My style… Hmm.” Why does he insist on picking up any comment that could possibly be an innuendo? “I have different tastes.”
I splutter. “Who are you? Christian Grey?” Oh, crap, maybe he is like that.
Bryn shifts sideways and pauses long enough to let me squirm. “No. Why? Are you looking for a Christian Grey?”
“You mean do I want someone to tie me up and humiliate me?” Jesus, Avery, shut up. “Ignore me. I don’t know why I said that.”
“I don’t know, Avery. I came to see if you were okay, not discuss your sexual perversions.”
“I do not have sexual perversions!” I retort. “Anyway, we weren’t talking about me.”
Bryn’s gaze shifts to the snow. “Do you want me to get you a drink? You look like you need one.”
“I’m going home, waiti
ng for my taxi.”
“I can’t persuade you to stay and chat?”
“I just got sacked and told to leave the premises!”
Why the hell would Bryn Hughes want to chat with me? I think I can guess.
“So?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve had enough. I want to go home. I have another evening of fun and games tomorrow.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, yearly get-together where I’m the one member of the gang who’s not a couple. I’m looking forward to it immensely.”
“Better than being at a wedding as the only member of the gang, not a couple,” he says and scuffs some snow with his boot.
“I’m sure you could’ve brought someone.”
“I could, but I didn’t. There were options, but I don’t want to be seen with anyone famous and dragged into the media, easier to just come on my own.”
I pull a face to indicate I still think it’s odd. “Well, I can beat that,” I reply. “My evening tomorrow? My ex and my ex-best friend will be there. Together.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. Bitch.”
Bryn quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, feisty.”
“No, she’s a bitch. He wasn’t my ex when she started screwing him.”
“Ohhh…Yeah, bitch.” He grins and I grin back. “I hope you’re meeting your friends somewhere public; it could end up nasty if you aren’t.”
“Local Italian place.”
“You live nearby?”
“Pembroke.”
“Not far then.”
Car lights and the crunch of tyres on gravel herald the arrival of my carriage home. The taxi stops and I hesitate, unsure what the protocol is here.
“So, um. Nice to meet you, Bryn. Sorry about the soup.”
“Likewise, Avery. Sorry about the job.”
“I’m not.” I approach the car and open the door.
“What time are you meeting your friends tomorrow?” he calls.
I pause, desperate to get into the heated car and out of the falling temperature. “Seven. Why?”
He nods. As I climb inside, just before I shut the door, I’m positive Bryn says, “See you then.” No, my anxiety and tiredness are playing mind tricks. I glance at him as the taxi pulls away and he stands, hands in pockets watching.
