Page 5 of This Means War

One night I even composed an opening argument, a couple of paragraphs that I felt might make any jury of my peers see my side. Of course, when I read it the next day, I realized that I sounded like a petulant child. It featured phrases like,how was I supposed to know she was saving herself for marriage,we’d both had a lot to drink, and, worst of all,she started it.

Needless to say, I burned it, and I’ve spent the nights since wondering how on earth I’m going to make this up to her. The enormity of my guilt surprises me, and I’m trying very hard not to psychoanalyze my feelings. I’m sure it’s just because she’s Josh’s sister. I grew up next door to her; she was practically like a little sister to me for a while. Wait, no. Scratch that. Gross.

There’s a rumbling sound at the entrance of the parking lot, and I turn to see a city bus pulling intothe lot and opening its doors. A second later, Lydia emerges, and my breath catches in my throat. She’s wearing a blush-colored dress made out of some sort of flowy material. Her hair tumbles down over her shoulders, and the sight brings back a rush of memories I’m not comfortable having in a church parking lot.

She dashes across the pavement, stumbling a little in her heels. I’m about to get out of my car and offer her my arm, just to prevent her from tumbling to the ground, obviously; but as I watch she stops, scoops her heels off, tucks them under her arm, and continues rushing towards the church. A few seconds later she disappears inside.

I can’t delay any longer, so I step out of the car and make my way across the parking lot. Something glints in my periphery, and I glance at the grass to see a glittering clutch lying there. I veer off my path to pick it up and am just straightening when the church doors open once more, and Lydia reappears. Our eyes meet and hers widen like saucers. My heart hammers inside my chest, and I’m perturbed to find I’ve lost the ability to speak.

“I’ll take that.” She breaks the silence, her tone icy, and I realize she’s holding out her hand for the clutch.

“Right,” I squeak, like I’m a pre-adolescent. I cough. “Here you go.” I hand her the clutch, making sure to avoid any physical contact.

Lydia doesn’t say anything else, just snatches the clutch and whirls back around. “I found him, Delia,”she calls. “He was taking a leak in the grass.”

“What!” I sputter, all my feelings of attraction or guilt or whatever they were disappearing at her words. “I was not!”

Lydia looks over her shoulder at me and smirks. I stifle the urge to stick my tongue out at her. I once thought this woman was refined, but here she is making jokes about me peeing on the grass.

“Cole!” Delia pops her head out of the sanctuary. “Finally. You’re here.” She eyes me suspiciously. “You weren’t really peeing in the grass, were you?”

“Of course not, Delia,” I shake my head.

“Oh good.” She laughs. “Can you imagine if you had been? Not a very mayoral thing to do, Cole.”

“I did not pee in the grass, Delia,” I say emphatically, because the last thing I need is a rumor like that going around. Delia is absolutely right, such behavior is not at all mayoral.

“Mayoral?” Lydia says. “What do you mean?” Before either of us can answer, Mrs. Hamlin appears behind Delia.

“Everyone here?” Her eyes land on me. “Cole. Hello, glad you could join us. I hope you didn’t have transportation difficulties like my daughter.” Her mouth tightens into a forced smile as her eyes flit disapprovingly in Lydia’s direction.

“Mom,” Lydia sighs, “taking the bus isn’t a transportation difficulty. What did you want me to do, walk here?”

Twin spots of pink color her mom’s cheeks. “You could have rented a car, Lydia. Like the rest of ourout-of-town guests.”

Lydia mutters something inaudible, though I think I catch the words “money” and “exorbitant.” As I watch the exchange, something strikes me, and I speak without thinking.

“How did you get the bus to drop you off here, Lydia? This church isn’t a bus stop.”

Lydia looks at me with disdain, though I assume it’s because of the whole sleeping together thing and not my question. “I asked the bus driver if he would drop me off here,” she says with a shrug, like bus drivers routinely make any old side stop, “and he was kind enough to say yes.”

I blink at her, trying to hide the fact that I’m impressed.

“Can we please talk about this later?” Delia pipes up. “We have a rehearsal to do.” Lydia and I both hop to attention, and I spend the rest of the rehearsal studiously keeping my eyes off her. My mind refuses to be reined in though, and I find myself replaying our night together last month, except this time I’m not a world-class jerk. This time we just talk, catch up on life, and maybe, just maybe, she promises me a dance at the wedding.

Chapter 6

Lydia

SOMEHOW I MAKE it through the rehearsal and the dinner following without collapsing into a puddle. Seeing Cole again has brought every feeling I’ve been stuffing down these last four weeks screaming back up to the surface. I feel hot and cold and so nauseous. I couldn’t even bring myself to eat any of the chicken on my plate at dinner.

I finally couldn’t stand being in the crowded restaurant, all the noises and smells exasperating my body. So I cut out early, catching a ride back to my parents’ house with my Aunt Donna. Now I’m lying in bed, wishing for sleep as my stomach continues to roll. I’m starting to think the nausea isn’t just from seeing Cole again, and that I must have food poisoning or a stomach bug. Which is just perfect. I can already imagine my mom blaming me for ruining the wedding, like I can somehow control my immune system’s response to bacteria.

This wedding has really highlighted her Type A personality.

It’ll be fine, I assure myself half-heartedly as I force my eyes shut, I’ll feel better in the morning.

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