Don't Kiss the Bride

“If I don’t try, you’ll be single forever. Married, but single,” she jokes. “Only you could be married and single at the same time.”

“Right? Could my life be any more awkward?”

“I doubt it.”

As we round the curve of the track, force of habit makes me glance over at the house where Jude recently built an addition. Butterflies used to flutter wildly in my chest every time I saw that house, or walked by it. But now, I feel a lonely void because he’s not there anymore. He and his crew have moved on to a new job a few miles away. It was comforting having him work so close to the school, even though we refrained from talking to each other to avoid feeding the gossip hounds.

“Jude’s basement flooded on Saturday, so we spent the entire day cleaning that up. I was standing in inches of water, sucking it up with a shop vac. My feet got so cold I couldn’t feel my toes.”

“Look at you, being all domestic!”

“Then, that night we were watching a movie, and I tried a piece of popcorn for the first time in years, and it got stuck in my throat. I had a major panic attack and turned into a gagging freakazoid, literally, on his bathroom floor.”

“Oh my God, Skylar. Tell me you didn’t.”

“I did. It was awful. I was choking and crying and I legit thought I was going to die.” I feel sick just thinking about it. How embarrassing.

“I’m not sure you can die on popcorn.”

“You can die on anything.”

“Okayyyy…” She’s not convinced.

“Anyway, that was humiliating, but Jude was super sweet. The next day, he took me to visit his aunt and uncle with him.”

“Dude, you are so living the married life.”

I laugh and shove my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie. “I know, like what life is this?”

“No clue, but I hope there’s some good stuff going on.”

My pulse quickens just thinking about all the good stuff. “I’m getting to that.”

“Well, talk faster, girl.”

“His aunt and uncle are in their seventies and they were really cool. His aunt gave me a T-shirt she got at Woodstock. Like the Woodstock. No lie, Megs, I looked it up when I got home, and I saw someone selling the same exact one on eBay for six thousand dollars.”

She turns to me with her eyes wide. “Shut up!”

“I’m serious.”

“That’s so insane. How’d she even know you’d be all batshit over a vintage T-shirt?”

“According to her, Jude talks about me all the time. That’s exactly what she said. That he talks about me nonstop.”

“Girllll… What is happening?”

“Wait, there’s more.”

“Ladies, it’ll be spring by the time you complete one lap. Pick up the pace!” Mrs. Stephens yells at us.

We roll our eyes in unison.

Megan groans. “I can’t walk any faster, I think I sprained my vag Saturday night.” To demonstrate, she lifts her knees up abnormally high as she walks.

“Oh my God, what?” I’m not sure if I should be horrified, amused, or jealous.

She turns to me with a big Cheshire Cat smile on her face. “Erik decided to get his freak on. We had sex seven times.”

“In one night?” Horrified. I’m horrified.

“Yes. He’s slowly coming out of his shell and he does not disappoint.”

“Okay that’s not a good visual. Now I’m seeing like a dick coming out of a turtle shell, and it’s not at all sexy.”

“Don’t be thinking about my man’s dick, Skylar,” she jokes. “I will cut you like a cheese slicer.”

“Trust me, I’ve banished the vision already.”

My pelvis hurts just thinking about having sex seven times in one day. I wonder if they spread it out over a span of twenty-four hours, or if they somehow crammed that into two or three hours.

I decide these are details I’d rather not know.

“I’m still waiting to hear what else happened over the weekend,” she urges. “Your obsession with old clothes is great, but I hope there’s more.”

My kiss with Jude will probably seem lacking to Megan compared to her and Erik’s sexolympics. But for me, the kiss was earth shattering. I was up all night replaying the kiss in my head, reveling in how his lips felt on mine—how soft and full they were. His body, however, was anything but soft. He was all hard muscle and ink under my hands as I massaged his back. And hugging him from behind felt amazing. I didn’t feel crushed or trapped—I felt safe. Then there’s that thing he does with his hands—the way he moves his fingers in between mine all slow and soft…

But the look in his eyes before we said goodnight was it for me. The dark, intense longing, the way his sterling gaze slowly shifted to my lips. The way he licked his own lips before he walked away, leaving me standing there with a thundering heart and wobbly legs.