EM
∞ Now ∞
Here's the thing: I'd been good at parties once upon a time.
Of course, parties had once been much more low maintenance. We bought a keg. Sent out Facebook invites or a mass text. If we were getting really fancy, we made Jell-O shots and threw in a theme.
Here's a hot tip from the ancient Romans: togas are always a crowd-pleaser.
Then all that was left to do was to get good and properly shit-faced. Not so much that you threw up, not if you did it right. But enough that your limbs tingled pleasantly and laughs tripped out easier. Maybe your cheeks flushed.
Maybe your inhibitions lowered.
But parties now? That is, the kind of party that Nikki wants her engagement party to be? They have to stay classy affairs.
Mom had been all for it too, springing for a pair of feet-maiming heels for me. Whatever. At least there's still booze. I drop a dollar of my mother's money into the bartender's tip jar in exchange for a cranberry and vodka. Soon, though, it won't be my mom's money. I'll find a job in California and then I'm going to pay her back for it all. Every last cent. I console myself by taking a sip of my drink and blanch at the taste.
"Let me guess." A voice, deep and smooth, like hot chocolate, slides into my ear.
Of course. "Hi, Cole," I say without turning.
"Hi, Em." I hear the smile in his voice before he moves to my side and grins, nodding at my drink. "It's not a beer, and it's not a screwdriver, so… cranberry and vodka?"
I tilt my glass to him in a salute. "How'd you guess?"
"Took a chance that you're still a vodka girl." He takes a swig of his beer. "Took a chance that some things don't change."
My heart— the traitor— quickens over the undercurrent in his words and I add another point to my plan.
1) Find a job
2) Focus on anything but Dad
3) Or Cole
But he doesn't make it easy. He's wearing a navy blue sports jacket tonight and damn if it doesn't make his eyes pop more than usual.
I take a much healthier gulp of my drink. It zings a path all the way down to my stomach, where it sits, burning like a small peat fire in my gut. I lean against the bar and stare out into the crowd of clear plastic cups, and politely smiling faces.
"Have you said hi to Nikki and Ron yet?"
"Of course I have. I'm the maid of honor."
"You are the maid of social avoidance," Cole says and then immediately pulls a face.
Laughter bursts out of me, despite my intentions to play it cool. "Wow. That was terrible."
"I know." He doesn't look at all ashamed, grinning widely. "I swear, I used to be better at this."
I bump him with my hip. "No, you just thought you were."
We look at each other, grinning for a second longer before my eyes flick down to his mouth. And sense jumps back into me. Holy shit, is the alcohol getting to me already? What am I doing?
The flicker in his eyes smolders at me as I take a step away and nervously swirl the ice in my glass.
"I'm going to issue you a challenge, Em Hayes."
Memories spark. "I am definitely not going shot for shot with you," I say emphatically.
"Oh, you wish," he scoffs. "Nikki might actually let you leave if you manage to get that drunk."
A girl can dream. "A challenge, huh? Let's hear it."
"The good news is you're already winning."
What the hell…? "Not that I'm not thrilled to have taken the lead in… whatever this is, but you haven't told me what we're doing yet." I turn to look at him.
Mistake.
His eyes soften on mine. "Keep pretending we're okay."
My breath leaves me in a whoosh. Pretending is exactly what it is. "Pretend, huh?" I look away, scanning the faces around me for Nikki. I need her as a buffer.
Pretending and avoiding is what I've done for years though, so…
"Yeah. I can do that."
∞
Not long after, Cole and I slip away from each other and I can breathe easily again. Nikki finds me and threads her arm through mine. "I want to introduce you to a couple of the other bridesmaids. You remember my friend Joey from work, right?"
Oh, God. "Joey from work" had tagged along with Nikki the one and only time she'd visited me on the west coast. Joey is cool. Joey is fun. But Joey is also a week-long hangover in a one-day package.
"Bridal party shot?" she greets me, grinning.
Behind her, Nikki shakes her head violently, her curls whipping her in the face. The expression of horror on her face is real. I can practically hear her thinking that we're going to ruin her classy party.
She doesn't need to bother. I hold up my cranberry vodka like a shield. "Just the one for me. Driving."
This is not, strictly speaking, the truth, as I don't have a car here and my mother is rotating around the room somewhere, but she doesn't need to know that.
"Spoilsport." Joey downs both of our shots with nary a flinch.
"So," I say, turning to Nikki. "Are you having a good time?"
She wrings her hands. "Yeah. I think. I don't know. Do you think people are having fun?"
Fun is relative, I think. I'm pretty sure I saw someone hiding in a corner playing one of those bubble-popping games on her phone. She looks like she's having fun. The rest of us are trying to keep our fingers from twitching toward our cells, far too used to using them as shields to guard against the potential of actual human interaction.
"Everyone's having a great time," I soothe. "And the food is great." She'd opted for a display table with trays of hors d'oeuvres and small plates. "I heard one woman say that the meatball quiche was 'out of this world.' Everyone want to know which caterer you used."
Her expression brightens and she does a little dance in place. "I bought everything frozen at a wholesale club," she whispers to me as if imparting state secrets and then crows with laughter. "I told Ron's mom that we could save most of the money for the wedding and a house down payment, but she was convinced the party would be a disaster."
"Well," Joey says. "It's classy as fuck, so I think you proved her wrong."
"Joey," Nikki hisses over the swear, but then shakes her head. "Whatever, no one's listening. It is classy as fuck, isn't it?"
We admire the chatting crowd for a minute. The dresses, the button-ups. Technological foibles notwithstanding, they really do look like they're having a nice time. I mean, it's not the party of the century or anything, but everyone looks happy.
"And this means that I have ammo when I fight with Ron's mom over wedding planning choices." Anyone else would dread going head to head with their future mother-in-law, but Nikki sounds downright eager. Like she's spoiling for the fight.
I'm not going to lie; I'm almost excited to watch.