Don't Kiss the Bride

by Carian Cole

“Okay, I’m hanging up. I’ll see you at the window, Rapunzel.”

I’m surprised he’s able to maneuver his wide shoulders through. For a moment, I was afraid he’d get stuck.

Visualizing this has me in tears

I still can’t believe the words that come out of my mouth next. Words I never thought I’d say, especially like this. “I was thinking we could get married.”

“What about Fluffle-Up-A-Gus?” I choke on smoke and go into a sputtering fit. “What the fuck is fupagus?”

Jude saunters in wearing gray sweatpants

You may kiss your bride!” Carol exclaims happily, closing her little book of vows. We made a deal there’d be no kissing the bride. We’d kiss on the cheek and hope Carol wouldn’t notice or think we were weird. But when I move in to do so, one of my heels gets stuck in the damp grass, and I stumble into him. His hand grasps my waist to steady me, but I still miss his cheek, and my lips land directly on his mouth. His grip on my waist tightens and he pulls me closer. His lips open to mine. Our eyes close. My hand has found its way to the back of his neck. Our mouths linger breathlessly when they shouldn’t—warm, and damp— before we slowly, reluctantly, pull apart. With just one kiss our deal has been shattered, our fate sealed.

Our lips touch softly, until he tilts his mouth over mine, capturing my lips with his. A barely audible gasp escapes me and he inhales it with a slow, sensual suck of breath. His hand squeezes my cheek, and then he pulls away, slowly dragging his thumb across my jawline before he turns to Carol and walks off to speak to her. Leaving me standing there. That second kiss may have been short, but the way he touched my face and moved his thumb across my cheek with that damn smile and those riveting eyes has my heart pounding.

Happy wedding day? Did I really just say that shit—after I ruffled her hair? Dude, you just married her. She’s not five years old. Fuck me. Today went all kinds of sideways.

let’s not forget—I kissed her. Twice. After I promised her—and myself—that I’d never, ever, cross that line. But nope. My dumb ass put my lips right on hers.

Fuptagus

I legit can't stop laughing at how badly he butchers that name

She’s watching me again, in that indescribable way that she does, and I feel like I should get out of her bedroom before I end up doing something stupid—like kissing her or ruffling her hair again.

“Looks like I’ll be sleeping alone since everyone’s shacking up in here.” “Aw, do you want to sleep in here, too?” she asks, then her eyes widen, and she quickly says, “I’m kidding.”

“You have pictures, and you haven’t shown me yet?” she says. “Are we even best friends?”

“That hand on your cheek, though. Dammmmm. Those tattoos. Fuckity fuck. My ovaries are exploding.”

This low-key, flirt-fueled heat simmering between us has me tweaked.

flirty smile plays on her lips. “You talking about the bike, or you? ’Cuz I think I can handle both.” Oof.

“You lie like a rug.”

“I’m gonna have to pass. I’m kinda involved with someone.” Her lips press against my cheek and she whispers, “I won’t tell if you won’t.” Scandalous indiscretion used to turn me on. But now, it just feels dirty.

“Is she at least letting you hit it?” “I know this might be a hard concept for you, but I actually don’t think with my dick 24/7.”

I think back to the first day we met when he gave me a ride home. I had no idea he’d change my entire life.

“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 was waiting to see if you were coming down.” “I felt like I had to after your badly misplaced pick-up line.”

I sit next to her. “Feel better?” “A little. I still feel shaky and my heart is pounding.” I hold my arm out to her. “Come here,” I say. She eyes me hesitantly before slowly moving closer to me. When she leans against me and rests her head against my shoulder, I cover her with a light blanket from the back of the couch and gently put my arm around her.

As we watch the movie, I slowly rub my hand up and down her arm, hoping to soothe her and chase away her fears. At least for a little while. I lightly caress the side of her neck with the backs of my fingers, feeling her pulse beneath my touch. Her breathing slows and her body relaxes. At some point in the middle of the movie, she reaches for my other hand and holds it tightly. I don’t understand why we feel so comfortable together. How we naturally just fit. Or how these little intimate touches feel totally normal and not wrong or awkward. I’ve never felt like this.

The usual impulse to run as far away as possible from any sort of intimacy doesn’t come when I’m with her. I’ve been waiting for it. Maybe even tempting it by letting myself have these random moments of closeness. But it doesn’t come. What does come is confusion about why my feelings are shifting out of the friend zone.

“I vaguely recall agreeing to something about sickness and health,” I say with a grin. “Yeah, but they weren’t real vows.” No, they weren’t. But somehow, they’re turning out to be.

“Oh, hey, Skylar,” she continues, peering past me. “I didn’t see you huddled way over there. Are you hitchhiking?” “Yes,” Skylar replies. “But now we’ve teamed up to look for airheads to murder. When’s your shift over?” “Shut up, bitch,” the girl tosses back.

Skylar obviously has a distinct fascination for damaged men. I see a broken heart in her future.

“There aren’t any brooding, emo, musician-types in your school? It was full of them when I was there.” “None that I’ve seen.” “Check under the bleachers,” I say. “That’s where they usually hang out.”

I shouldn’t flirt with her, but I can’t stop myself. Banter is a wicked turn-on for me.

In my mind she’s got a huge, glowing, neon sign over her head flashing WARNING - KEEP BACK. But somehow, I keep edging closer.

You want to go look at the washing machine? See if we can find some missing socks in that thing?” Uncle Al nods and stands up. “Maybe we can pull your head out of your ass while we’re down there.”

She pushes her glasses up her nose and looks at me with a knowing expression in her eyes as she waits for me to finish. “There must be more to it,” she says in a low but friendly voice. “Even if you don’t see it. People don’t just get married.”

“And he talks about you all the time when he comes over or we talk on the phone.” My breath catches in my throat, and I almost chop the tip of my finger off. “Really?” I comment,

I know if the dog could talk, she’d be telling me I’m a dumbass.

The things those girls said about Jude were disgusting and unforgivable, and honestly, I don’t regret making Paige eat my lunch tray. Maybe she’ll think twice from now on before being a bitch.

“Hey, Jude, you can sleep with us if you’re afraid to be alone, too,” Megan teases from the background, ruining the moment. Jude grins and snickers. “Don’t flirt with married men, Megan,” he says, not taking his eyes from mine. “Good answer!” she replies. “Unexpected and disappointing, but perfect.”

Her happiness is contagious. Her hope is infectious. Through her, I see us. I see tomorrows and next years. And I like it. There was never supposed to be a next anything.

“Are you, though? Now it’s like you’re waiting to get divorced, but in the meantime, you have to live with your estranged husband. This is like a really bad movie. I don’t think you’re too young to date him, but I do think you’re too young to be going through this crazy bullshit.”

I spent the night with Asher Valentine. Hold up—not like that.

I used to think that the feeling-so-connected thing that people talked about was pure Hallmark-card bullshit. Until I met Skylar. Until I had sex with Skylar. Until I fell in love with her.

“I never got to tell you who I spent the night with that night I didn’t come home.” Her face twists into a disgusted frown. “Seriously, Jude, why would I want to know that?” Shit. “No, it’s not what you think. It was a guy.” “Wow.” Her head moves back and forth and the bird mimics her. “It’s like you want me to throw this bird cage at you.”

We’re the same, Jude. We’re both afraid of being abandoned. We both crave trust and commitment. No matter what age I am, that will never change for me. You’re the only one I’ll ever trust.”

“I love you, Skylar. I’m not afraid to say it or feel it anymore. I love you so fucking much. I don’t want you to leave. Ever. I promise I’ll never hold you back from what you want. I want you to have everything you dream of.

“I love you,” I say breathlessly. “I really love you so much.” “I love you, too.” He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it. “I really love saying that. Promise me it’ll be forever,” he says. “No matter what, promise me we’ll always work it out. I’d never get through losing you.”

From now on, I’m listening to my heart and my gut. We’ll learn to trust and love and grow together. I want us to have a real wedding and a honeymoon.

What’s mine is yours.” “And what’s mine is yours.” Closing my eyes, I lean my head against his and whisper, “I love you,” before pulling away.

“I love you so much. What did I do to deserve you?” He bows down and kisses me softly, reaching around to cup my ass in his hands and pull me close. “You vowed to love me, Sparkles. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. Forever. That’s what you did.”