“I did,” she says. “I still don’t get that crazy fluttering feeling in my chest with him, and I don’t think I will. Best not to lead him on, right?”
I nod as my thoughts slip-slide in a thousand directions. I want to say so much, but I narrow in on my role with her. “So how am I supposed to help you figure out how to date?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about other guys right now.”
“What do you want to talk about?” I ask in a low voice, my heart racing, my skin heating up just from being near her.
She holds up her phone and taps on the screen. “This,” she says, pointing to our thread of messages.
“What about that?”
“Didn’t you like the pictures I sent you?” she whispers.
My jaw drops. “Are you kidding me? I loved them.”
“You hardly said anything,” she says, and there’s the tiniest bit of hurt in her voice. “You only sent one reply.”
Oh shit. I fucked up. She opened up to me with the photos, and I shut her down because of my stupid jealousy. Those pictures should have been the start of a new hot text conversation, not the end. “I’m sorry,” I say, speaking honestly. “I should have written again.” I drop my voice further. “But they sent all the blood rushing everyplace else but my brain.”
That makes her smile. “I just wanted to hear back. To know you wanted more.”
I raise my face, meeting her eyes. They look the way they did when I showed her the drawing on her arm in the coffee shop. Hungry, ready, wanting. The same as mine, I’m sure, so I say the next thing—the thing that sets me on fire. “I want so much more.”
She licks her lips, and they start to form what sounds like a feathery me, too, but it’s cut off abruptly when Josie pops out of her seat, nudges my elbow, and tells me to switch with her. “You’ve monopolized Harper long enough. My turn,” she says, with a smile that shows off her dimples. Josie is close in age to Harper, and they spend the whole ride to Connecticut catching up.
Wyatt becomes my traveling companion for the next two hours. When we reach the hotel, we all check in together, Harper going right after me, and then we scatter to hotel rooms on different floors.
At the rehearsal dinner, Harper is consumed with family and is then commandeered by her friend Jen for a drink. I play pool with my brother, and proceed to clobber him, and that victory marks the end and highlight of my night.
* * *
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
I smile for the happy couple from my spot near the groom, and Harper beams from across from me. Her dress is sleek, simple, and royal blue. It lands at her calves and shows off her shoulders and makes her hair look fucking amazing. Those red locks are piled high on her head, and loose tendrils fall by her face.
As the newlyweds walk down the aisle and through the guests in the huge room overlooking the hotel grounds, Charlotte’s sister wipes a tear from her eye and clutches her bouquet. I talked to Natalie at the rehearsal dinner last night, and she’s whip-smart and fun. She’s blonde, like Charlotte, with big blue eyes and legs that go on forever.
I guess I should get to know her more, but after the bride and groom kiss, we’re all pulled into various wedding photos and festivities, so there’s no time to talk. Later on, the dancing begins, and once Spencer and Charlotte have their first dance, the DJ spins some faster tunes. Harper and her friend Jen take to the floor while Wyatt and I watch from the open bar, and then Natalie joins the women. A slow song comes on, and the women separate. Natalie weaves her way to my brother and me.
Wyatt taps his chest. “She wants me.”
Harper and Jen head for the ladies’ room, and I can’t resist the chance to beat Wyatt, so I speak first. “Want to dance, Natalie?”
“Sounds great.”
I offer her my hand and lead her out on the dance floor, then proceed to slow dance in the most chaste way possible, with as much distance between us as I can manage.
“I hear my sister wanted to set us up,” Natalie says with a quirk in her lips.
“Yes, she did.”
“She’s got hearts in her eyes these days,” Natalie adds, but there isn’t any flirting in her tone, just amusement. I should be disappointed. I’m not.
“No surprise there,” I say as we move in a small circle, my hands on her waist, hers on my shoulders, our bodies many inches apart. I wonder if she feels it, too—this lack of attraction. It’s not because she isn’t pretty. It’s not because she isn’t smart. It’s just one of those things—the spark is either there, or it isn’t. Natalie and I don’t spark.
She parts her lips to say something, when I feel a tap on my shoulder.
“May I cut in?”
Like someone grabbed the remote and changed the channel mid-scene, my pulse speeds up.
“Be my guest,” Natalie says with a smile, and then Harper’s in my arms, and without a second thought, there’s barely any distance between us. My fingers curl over her hip bones, and her hands wrap around my shoulders. Everything sparks. She’s so much closer than Natalie was. A few more centimeters and our chests would touch. A little more and we’d be dancing cheek to cheek. More than that and we’d be arrested for public indecency.
“Is this the obligatory best man/bridesmaid dance?” I ask playfully.
“Wouldn’t a maid of honor/best man dance be more obligatory?”