How to Say I Do

by Tal Bauer

I am my father’s son.

"you yo daddy's son"

I was four years old when he taught me how to hold a shotgun and aim for a line of cans he’d set up on our back fence.

this is mildly concerning

Six months later, after Dad caught me on the landing one night, he handed me his shotgun when one of those after-dark knocks came, and he positioned me so I had a clear-as-day view of him standing on our porch. My little heart was beating as fast as a mourning dove’s, but I kept that barrel level and the stock hard up against the meat of my scrawny shoulder, my eyes peeled on the two figures discussing matters beneath the melted-butter glow of our porch light.

i am actually very concerned

When they found my father's body, he was curled around my mother, and his charred bones were mixed with hers so thoroughly that it took a forensic anthropologist two days to sort out who was who. We buried them in the same coffin anyway.

not the trauma dumping

Howdy.” I tipped the brim of my hat.

do people actually say that in texas? they absolutely do not in georgia

A lady from Amarillo, who had a thick Texan voice of her own, once told me you could pour honey between my vowels and watch it puddle.

what does that even mean friend

What is this?” He flicked his hand between him and me. “Walker: Texas Ranger? Have I broken the law, cowboy? Day drinking not allowed in these parts?”

not around here partner (i think i am so funny)

“Yeah,” he whispered. “How about a shot of Tito’s, too?”

mans is going through it

I hmmed and frowned and said “Bless” and “Lord almighty”

personally i prefer to say "my goodnes" and "bless it"

instead of seeing her radiant smile smoothly glide down the aisle toward him, Noël heard their wedding planner whisper in his ear that everything was canceled and the wedding was off.

so is this man bi or is this a bi awakening?

At two in morning, she’d finally texted back: I’m not in love with you. There’s someone else.

that bitch. you at least could have said something BEFORE the wedding

Noël arrived at JFK airport just before six a.m., booked on a 10:10 a.m. flight. He’d started downing vodka and orange juice screwdrivers there, and then kept going on board in first class, chugging tequila sunrises all the way from New York to Dallas, determined to keep his blood alcohol level stratospherically high.

oh he is drunk as fuck and that hangover is going to hurt like hell

“I’m on my way to my baby brother’s wedding. Liam’s marrying his high school sweetheart. They’ve been together since they were fifteen, and you’ve never seen two people more in love than Liam and Savannah, I promise.”

yeah cause this was the right thing to bring up right now

No, don’t worry about it.” Noël wrapped his hand around the long neck of that Tito’s bottle again. This time, he poured a straight line of vodka right into my water glass, filling it up to the tippy-top. “I’m glad to hear other people are happy.” He knocked my glass back, half water, half vodka, all pain. “Happy to hear that other people are getting married,” he croaked.

this man is going to get alocohol poisoning

“You’re going to Cancun?” “Sure am, on my honeymoon.” “My brother is getting married in Cancun.”

i cannot think of the name of this trope for the life of me so i will update when i do FORCED PROXIMITY

He snatched up the half-empty bottle of Tito’s and said to me, “We better get going.” He had no bags and no luggage, and he went marching down the terminal with his chin up and his sunglasses in place, swinging that Tito’s like he was a sashaying pirate.

i am almost positive you cannot do that

He shoveled my pretzels into his mouth as we shuffled off the plane, sans his phone, and the only words he said to me were, “The resort is sending a car. Ride with me.”

there is absolutely no way this is a bi awakening. this man has to know that he also likes men.

then dragged the bathroom trash can out and set it nearby, just in case.

"just in case" bitch he is absolutely going to need that. he is wasted as fuck

I’d have rather died than woken up.

me very morning actually

Had I actually snuck that bottle of vodka onto the plane? And chugged a homemade screwdriver in the back row? Fuck, I was sloppier than the subway after two a.m.

you said it not me

He was barefoot, in board shorts and a tank top, and he still wore that cowboy hat.

that is definietly an outfit choice

Wait, wait. I fumbled to my feet, dropping my napkin and almost knocking over my champagne, and then gestured to the empty chair across from me. I spoke over Wyatt. “I’m glad you made it. The food is amazing.” The least I could do, the absolute least, was treat Wyatt to a thank you for saving my liver and my life breakfast.

yeah it's a thank you. but you're also putting him in a position to pretend you guys are married without even talking to him about this plan

I was fourteen pages deep into my vivisection of Jenna and me.

18 PAGES FRONT AND BACK????

“Why don’t you come help me make sure I do it right?” “I don’t think you could do anything wrong. Your ranch sounds like a dream.”

he was flirting dumbass

Wyatt showed up wearing the same outfit he’d worn to breakfast—board shorts, tank top, and cowboy hat—but he’d put on his boots, the same broken-in cowboy boots I’d met him in yesterday. He had a towel draped around his neck and bright-green plastic sunglasses hooked on his tank top. “You’re going to go swimming in boots?” He hit me with that grin again. “You’re going to go hiking in flip-flops?”

i think it is clear that neither one of you are dressed appropriately

But I want to learn. Teach me everything.”

okay lexi grey

He could have been describing black magic.

TAKE A SIP OF THE SECRET POTION, ONE TASTE AND YOURE IN LOVE

Noël captivated me.

you don't say

But I had to be realistic. I was gay. Noël was not. I liked men. Noël hadn’t given me any indication that he was anything other than exactly who he appeared to be—a heterosexual, broken-hearted and lonely man in need of a friend.

there is absolutely no way that man is straight.

Texans don’t feel cold. We bred that out years ago on the open range.”

tell that to the ice storm you guys had a couple years ago and cried about

He rolled his eyes and flicked sand at me. I flicked sand back, and in no time at all, we were wrestling.

you bitches love to tussle

I met Noël outside the restaurant in the same outfit I planned to wear for Liam and Savannah’s wedding—nicer khaki slacks and a silk tropical-print short-sleeve dress shirt.

no way you plan on wearing that to a wedding

Noël!” I blame Luis and his three glasses of champagne for what came next. I jogged to Noël and threw my arms around him while my entire family broke their necks craning to check out what on Earth was going on.

liam is confused, savannah is confused, even jason is confused

I thought this was just going to be your brother and his fiancée? And Jason?” “Savannah’s parents came down for the wedding, and Savannah brought her best friend, Trish—” He looked like a baby horse about to bolt. “Wyatt, I really shouldn’t be here—” “Yes, you should. I want you here.”

don't care, i hate people and now i feel i have overstepped

My family is going to love you. Can I introduce you? Please?”

no. bye.

I was built like a bull. Liam was built like a frog that stood up.

that is so messed up but so funny.

Yeah?” Liam lifted his hat and smoothed a hand over the top of his hair. “You a friend of Wyatt’s?” Oh, how to answer that question. I looked at Noël. He looked at me. “We met here—” I started. “Well, on the way here.” “We met in Dallas.” “Wyatt rescued me in Dallas.” “We found out we were both flying to Cancun—” “To the same resort!”

next time just say "yeah" or "something like that"

Noël shifted against me, leaning more squarely into my chest. I rested my arm outside of his and laid my fingers on his elbow.

"just friends" lying mf

I rested my head against Noël’s and left it there, and we watched another round of Liam versus Jason and his lunch. Noël passed over the last of our shared sandwich. I took two bites, then held out the final piece for Noël. He ate it out of my fingers.

who the actual fuck are you two trying to fool with this whole "just friends" bullshit. be so fucking fr rn

I was twenty-eight years old, and I had never before been attracted to a man. Living in Manhattan, there were plenty of opportunities to try one on for size, so to speak, if I had been inclined. I’d been asked out by guys dozens of times, propositioned for sexy interludes and slip-aways into club bathrooms. It had never been an issue to decline, flattered, but not interested. If I were being honest with myself? The way I never, ever was?

i absolutely positvely do not believe this at all