Don't Kiss the Bride

I lick butter off my fingertips. “It’s basically slang for hang out and fuck.”

He pales. “Seriously?”

“Yup.”

He holds his hands up defensively. “I just want to watch a movie. No side of fucking involved.”

A mild tinge of disappointment tugs my mouth into a frown that I quickly try to cover up by taking another bite of toast. How does he do this to me? I really just want us to be friends, but somehow, I keep tipping over into this weird, unfamiliar place of stomach butterflies, awkward conversations, and racing heartbeats.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I didn’t think you were trying to hook up with me.”

“Good. If I was, I wouldn’t be lame enough to lure you in with a movie.”

I blink at him.

“Not that I’d be trying to lure you at all,” he says quickly. “Or hooking up with you.”

“Um, thanks?”

“Wait, only because I wouldn’t be into you like that.”

“You want a shovel, Lucky? You’re digging yourself pretty deep.”

“I’m just saying I wouldn’t do that. I mean, you’re pretty, but—”

“You’re being a really bad husband,” I interrupt, using our little inside joke. I can’t remember how or when we started teasing each other about being a bad spouse, but at times like this, it breaks the awkwardness.

I smile at him as he shoves his hand through his messy hair. “I’ll be in the living room in about an hour. If you want to watch a movie and impress me with your ability to not eat hot, buttery popcorn, that’d be great.”

After he leaves, I pick up my cell phone and text Megan.

Me: Change of plans, I can’t hang out tonight.

Megan: But Carson was going to stop by. I wanted you to hang with him.

Me: I’m sorry. I’m not feeling great. Maybe another time?

Megan: Sure! Feel better! Xo

Netflixing and not-chilling with Jude sounds way more fun than enduring a not-so-random setup. Anyway, I’m married now. Should I really be dating? Isn’t that bad karma, even if it’s not a real marriage?

Chapter 20

Jude

I’ve just settled on the couch with a bowl of fresh popcorn in my lap and the dog at my feet when Skylar joins me, wearing a white sweatshirt and fleece footie pants with peace signs printed on them.

Laughing, I shake my head and shovel popcorn into my mouth.

“Don’t you laugh at my pants,” she says, sitting in her usual place—the recliner a few feet away from the couch. “My feet were freezing from standing in all that water.”

“Your outfits never disappoint.”

“You’re just jealous because my feet are all warm and cozy.”

“Not a lie,” I say.

“Did you pick a movie yet?” she asks, twisting her hair up into a messy ponytail and tying it with the white band she had around her wrist.

“I was waiting to see if you were coming down.”

“I felt like I had to after your badly misplaced pick-up line.”

I grab the remote and bring the Netflix movie menu up on the screen. “Obviously, I haven’t tried to pick up a chick in a while.”

“Obviously,” she repeats. “Speaking of, Megan was trying to set me up with some dude named Carson tonight. She described him as odd. I bailed out of that fast.”

“Why? It’s Saturday night, you should be out having fun.”

“Nah. Having awkward convos with some guy with a last name for a first name who’s probably just going to try to get me drunk and have sex with him isn’t my idea of fun.”

I stifle a laugh. I was that dude when I was seventeen. “What’s your idea of fun, then?”

“This,” she says simply. “Sitting in comfy clothes, not dealing with any fake BS, curling up with my cat later in a nice, clean bed, and sleeping as late as I want tomorrow.” She pauses and tilts her head playfully. “And hanging out with you isn’t so bad.”

Her answer surprises me. Most girls her age wouldn’t be caught dead spending a Saturday night at home, especially with—

With who? What does she even think of me as? The older-dude roommate? The fake husband? I chew my popcorn as I flick through the movies on the screen. I probably don’t want to know how she refers to me in her head and with her friends.

“Ooh, let’s watch that!” she suddenly says, pointing excitedly to the screen. “Almost Famous.”

“That movie’s been out for years.”

“Yeah… but it’s one of my faves. I can watch it over and over and never get tired of it.”

Grinning, I select the movie. “It’s one of my favorites, too. It’s got a kick-ass soundtrack.”

“It so does!” she agrees.

As the movie starts, I put my feet up on the coffee table and stretch out. My back and neck ache from being bent over in the damp basement all day.

That’s what she said, the voice of Erin says in my head.

“You can sit over here, ya know,” I say a few minutes into the movie. “You’ll be able to see better.” The recliner sits at an awkward angle from the television, making her crane her head to see the screen. When I lived here with my mother, I hated sitting there. I bought new furniture a few years ago, but I ended up putting it all in the exact same place. No idea why, since my goal was to make the house look and feel different.