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Logan didn’t see much of Wendy during the following week. He was sure she was doing it deliberately, but he kept missing her in the common room and she generally ignored him during class. None of that was new, but Logan was sure she was enjoying leaving him so confused.
He was dying to text her and ask her what her motives were, but he wanted her to make the first move. On the surface it appeared as though Wendy was dressing up as his fantasy to instigate some more kissing action between them, but that just didn’t seem like her. She must be playing him somehow. Maybe leading him on again only to once more knock him back? But Wendy wasn’t that mean-spirited. Sure, she had tried to prank him a couple of times, but even her pranks had been very tame; she just wasn’t malicious enough to do it well. So what was she about? He just couldn’t wrap his head around it.
On Saturday he packed his bags and moved from Compass Court to the hotel in Oakworth, where the whole wedding party was spending the night. There was still no sign of Wendy, who was coming over with her dad, and eventually Logan went up to his hotel room and began to get ready.
The costume made him feel slightly ridiculous, but he had to admit that his mother had spared no expense to make the hotel ballroom into a Victorian wonderland. There were candles everywhere, all ready to be lit later that night, and a string quartet had been booked, as well as a fabulous feast to look forward to.
He dwelt on that while he got dressed, but anticipation of seeing Wendy in her dress was driving him insane. He simply had to know why she had encouraged all this.
He stopped in front of the mirror and checked his hair for the hundredth time, and then finally he picked up the tiny bottle of aftershave that he had saved from Christmas.
“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, splashing it on, then left to go and meet his mother.
It was Wendy who opened the door, and Logan found himself speechless at the sight of her. He was totally at a loss for how he was supposed to act. All those years of getting good at talking to girls, and now he was faced with the one girl he liked and he couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“Hey, loser,” she grinned.
“Weirdo,” he returned the greeting, but bowed his head respectfully in a mock Victorian gesture.
“Come on in, your mum’s waiting.” She held the door wide, still not giving him an answer to the question that burned in his mind.
Throughout the wedding ceremony Logan struggled to keep his eyes off Wendy instead of on the happy couple he was supposed to be watching. She looked amazing. The fitted bodice, softened with lace edging and the full feminine skirts. And yet somehow, he just wanted her to be Wendy. The demure lady-in-waiting act just didn’t suit her. He wanted back the angry girl who teased him and shouted at him and punched him and kissed him.
Wendy kept up the act all the way through dinner, and he found it impossible to get a moment alone with her.
Finally, their parents took to the floor for the first dance and Logan got his chance. He watched his mother and Daniel waltz decorously around the candlelit room, and sidled up to Wendy.
“I think we’re supposed to join them. May I have the honour?”
She nodded, a playful smile still on her face. “Of course, I would be delighted.”
He took her hand. “So, is this for my benefit?” He indicated her dress.
“Yes.” She paused for a long moment as they made a turn. “It’s for our mutual benefit – I hope.”
He grinned and tightened his grip on her waist in a possessive hold.
“Logan, I wanted to say...”
“Shh.” he pressed a finger to her lips. “Don’t speak, you’ll spoil it.”
She made a joke of biting his finger, but didn’t say anything.
At the end of the music they parted, and danced with other people for a while.
An hour later they waved off their parents on their honeymoon, and Wendy turned to Logan.
“Do you know, I think I’ve had enough for tonight. I’m going to my room.”
“Oh, okay.” He waited, still not quite sure of her.
She looked at his face and laughed. “Are you joining me for a nightcap?” She leaned closer, “That’s a euphemism for kissing, if you aren’t quite getting my drift.”
Logan ran a hand through his hair as they stood silently in the lift going up to their floor.
“None of this seems quite right, Wendy. I mean, I get that it’s fun and I appreciate the gesture, but I want to know what it actually means for you and me. Do we go back to school tomorrow like nothing’s happened? I like the dress, a lot, but I want to deal in reality.”
Wendy nodded thoughtfully, “Fine – I was starting to struggle with the performance anyway.”
The lift stopped and she got out and grabbed his hand, dragging him down the corridor.
“Let’s get back to the real us.” Then she punched him in the arm, hard.
“Ow, what was that for?”
“To remind you who’s boss in our relationship.” She swiped a card at her door lock and then shoved him in.
He grabbed her around the waist and picked her up, tossing her on the bed. He pinned her hands down and said, “Me, I’m the boss.”
She laughed, and rolled him, so she was on top. “Let’s take it in turns. We’ll work it out somehow, with maybe a little role play and banter along the way – after all, as Shakespeare said: All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.”
“Oh, shut up,” he said, and kissed her.
~
