"I'll talk to you tonight, okay?" I confirm, not agreeing to anything. He nods.
After the guys leave, I face Ashton, biting at my lip nervously. "What do I tell him?
She shrugs like it's a simple answer. "The truth."
As the beast lay dead upon the forest floor, Thaylina bent down over his body. She did not see a handsome face, or a charming smile. Only the truth of what he truly was, a horrific monster. She lowered her mouth to his deadened ear and hissed, "I wanted this."
The event at the country club is a wedding. I didn't even know they held wedding receptions here, but I've never been on the event side of the Clubhouse either.
It's the first wedding I've ever been to, and it's ... surreal. Watching the newly married couple dance, the family drink and celebrate. Everyone's so ... happy. Well, there are a few people seated at the farthest tables who are miserable ... and drunk. Which is probably why they're seated in Siberia. But for the most part, the room is filled with laughter and joy. If I were still the girl, before the magical brownies, I might go all Maleficent in here and scream that it's all a lie. That their marriage won't last longer than it takes for the bride to change her name on her credit cards.
Can't say I'm a converted believer, exactly. Yes, I kinda-sorta confessed to Grant that I was in love with him. But that doesn't mean I'm sold on happily-ever-after, or that love conquers all. I still don't trust it not to go to shit.
"Weddings turn me on, so bad," Ashton confesses as we watch the couple cut the cake and feed each other.
"Are you sure it's not the three tiers of chocolate cake?" I tease.
"Well, that too. But it's so ... romantic."
I try to hide my cringe.
"Really? I thought we conquered this phobia."
"Sorry. It's involuntary." Speaking of romantic phobias. "Where's Brendan?"
"Valeting." Her eyes brighten. "I think I need a fifteen-minute break."
This time I don't hide my cringe. "Please bring sanitizer wipes with you."
All of the servers are signaled to go back into the kitchen. "Need everyone in the kitchen for cake service," I'm told by Nancy,
the event manager.
I pass the room off the dining room where the bar is located. Stefan and Grant are behind it, serving and chatting with guests. Grant looks up just as I pass and smiles. I don't know how he knows, it's like he can sense when I'm nearby or something. I beam back at him, because ... I'm an idiot.
I can't look at Ashton too long when she returns, not without making the most revolted face ever. She's seriously glowing, and her eyes are even sparkling.
"I want to be a good friend and ask you about you and Brendan, but at the same time, I don't think my stomach can handle it."
"What's with you two, anyway? You act like children around each other."
"He's just..." I stick out my tongue in revulsion, "gross." She laughs.
Grant appears behind us. "Hey." We make room for him to stand between us, adhering to the "don't turn your back on the guests" rule that has been drilled into us all night. "So Nancy offered to cut me, and I told her I was giving you a ride back to school." I glance up at his mischievous grin. "Want to get out of here?"
"Can I?" I ask Ashton. She picks up on my concern. I don't have a chaperone, aka Lance, to do whatever he's supposed to do when he's chaperoning. Which is basically yell at me when I punch douchebags and laugh at me when I get high. So he's useless, and I'm more apt to do the right thing when I'm with Grant than any of the Harrison boys. I've basically just talked myself into leaving with Grant right now.
Ashton thinks for a minute. "I'll have Brendan text you when we leave," she tells Grant. "That way you can arrive around the same time we do. We'll just tell them you had to stay a little after to clean something. I don't know. Brendan's better at this, but we'll lie."
"Thank you." I hug her. "You're my favorite liar."
"Bring sanitizer wipes with you," she calls after me. I make a face at her and follow Grant to the computer to clock out.
"What does that mean?" he asks. "Was she making a sex comment?"
My cheeks flush. "Sort of."
"I don't really get it," he admits.