Page 103 of Something Borrowed

“Don’t forget our deal, Stan. You’re not making a fool of me in public or private. You’ll do as I asked.” He sounds smug and angry.

“Oh, will I?”

“Yes. You don’t want to make a fuss in front of people. Or to ruin your friends’ big day,” he says silkily, the threat clear in his tone. “I’m leaving straight after the ceremony anyway.” He pauses. “In the meantime, do something with your hair. It’s like your opinions. Too much. You look feral.”

On that masterful riposte, he sweeps out of the room. The breeze from the slammed door blows back my “feral” hair, and I snort out a laugh.

Bennett’s right that I won’t ruin Leo and Richard’s wedding with Bennett’s petty drama. But he’s wrong to think I won’t tell Raff the details of that stupid arrangement I agreed to.

Raff is too important to me to have him upset. He hadn’t said it in words last night, but his body told me everything I need to know. He’d held me like there was nothing more precious in the world to him.

I stand up and tap my way to the shower. I need to find him.

That proves easier saidthan done. Showered and dressed in my suit, I make my way downstairs. The lobby sounds loud, with lots of voices and sounds of movement, so I guess everyone is checking in.

I hover awkwardly and then turn when someone shouts my name. I hear footsteps come closer and then a familiar voice says. “Stan, how are you, mate?”

I cock my head. “Pat?”

“That’s me.”

I grin, all my worries falling away as soon as his hands cup my shoulders and the familiar scents of Kouros, cigarettes, and a faint whiff of dope wash over me.

“How are you?” he murmurs.

I collapse into his arms as he hugs me. “I’m fine,” I whisper.

He hugs me tight for a second and then lets me go. Pat’s always been an oasis of serenity for me, where only the scratch of a needle on a record and a passionate discussion about the song playing mattered. I could lose myself in his little world and come away refreshed. And probably a little high from second-hand weed.

He cups my face. “Looking good, Stan.”

I smile. “You lie. You think my hair is too short.”

“Don’t conform to the Man, mate. Long hair is a two-fingered salute to the government.”

I scrunch my face up. “I’m not actually sure whether the government is bothered by hairstyles.”

“Yeah. Maybe I meant society.”

“That would be it.” I reach out to touch Pat’s hair. “Talking of that, where are your own long tresses?”

He snorts. “Makes me sound like Rapunzel.”

I stroke the strands over his ears. “This is really short, Pat.”

“Yeah, make that a sad Rapunzel. If I were her, I’d have had to stay in that tower for at least another three years until I’d obtained suitable hair growth.”

“Did you have a wild moment and decide to cut it off?” I bite my lip to hide a smile. “Or did you finally conform to society’s norms?”

“Hush your mouth,” he says immediately. “Nah, I had a dope-related accident.”

“It isn’t the first one. We still remember you standing in the pond in the garden proclaiming your love for the koi carp.”

“Did I?”

“Yep. I’m afraid to tell you the fish didn’t share your sentiment.”

He gives his rich laugh. It’s like liquid sunshine on the air.

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