Page 99 of Make Me Want it Too

Without another word, Mr. Bishop throws his fork on his plate, clattering high-pitched metal against ceramic, and storms out as well.

We sit in silence for a bit, unmoving—except for Wood, who never stopped eating, currently polishing off his yogurt parfait, the sound of his spoon scraping the inside of the dish.

Finally, the low sound of conversation picks back up around the room and I pick up my last piece of bacon.

Livvy’s shoulders relax and she leans into Noah’s side. “We’re eloping, huh?”

Wood walks me out, hand in hand, to the guest house where I’ll be getting ready for the wedding with Bex. Through the damp grass, the sun moving in and out from behind white, fluffy clouds, and I stop short.

Tonight’s our last day.

He stops when I do. “Everything all right?”

I nod. “This is it. Wedding day.”

He quirks an eyebrow and looks stupid handsome doing it.

“You know what that means?”

“Yeah.” He moves in closer, taking both my hands as the sun glows all around him. “It’s the last day we get to be fake boyfriend and girlfriend.”

I smile. Not exactly sure why I chose to do this now. I should have waited until after the wedding—in case it gets awkward when he inevitably lets me down gently. But I’m going to do it. I’m going to ask if he wants to hang out with me after this in a not fake way?—

But then there’s movement over his shoulder, past the trees. A small gasp. Cut-off jean shorts and blonde hair.

Margot.

She glances our way as she heads up to the guest house.

And I know she heard.

Fudge.

“Mace?”

I snap back to Wood, forgetting my train of thought. Disoriented. “Um, can we talk tonight? After the wedding, I mean?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

I dart my eyes around, looking for Margot, but she’s disappeared. My hands are suddenly clammy, and I slip them from Wood’s grip.

We part ways, and as I walk up to the guest house, I wish I had kissed him goodbye. There’s a sinking feeling in my gut that it might have been my last chance.

Bex is unusually quiet while we’re getting our hair done.

Margot hasn’t said much. Maybe she didn’t hear me and Wood talking.

But every time I look her way, she has a knowing look in her eye. A smile that’s too calm.

I try not to think about it too much. After we’ve moved on to makeup, Bex seems to have calmed down a bit and is back to her upbeat self. The bucket of champagne we’ve gone through throughout the afternoon is probably helping.

I’m in my peach dress, which, admittedly, looks better with my hair and makeup done. The hair stylist, i.e. magician, somehow managed to get my hair into big, bouncy, loose curls that are defined, not frizzy, and are still soft. She left it down, twisting two small pieces back and pinning them behind my temples.

I find myself pleased that she left it down, for no other reason than that I know Wood likes it.

My makeup, too, is unbelievable. The makeup artist, Cami, commented almost the entire time about how lovely and smooth my skin was. She used a semi-sheer skin tint and the tiniest bit of concealer so as to not cover up my freckles, which I was disappointed with initially. But when I turn to see the final result in the mirror, she was right. It is one of my defining features. She said she didn’t want to cover up my features but enhance them.

I look like me, but better.

---