Page 56 of Aisle Come Back to You

I already feel pretty out of place, and my lack of coordination would only make that worse. I’m not sure why I feel so self-conscious, as I’m dressed similarly to a lot of the other males here, but somehow they look like men who should be dressed like that, especially since part of me suspects that many of them dress like this on a day-to-day basis. I, on the other hand, look like some nerdy dude playing dress-up.

Watching a man approach the women, I immediately become more attentive, and I sit up straight. While I know they can handle these sorts of situations on their own, I have also seen the way certain men often act when they’ve had a bit too much to drink and think they’re owed something, and this man gives off that exact vibe.

As I watch him focus his gaze and undivided attention on Blair, my hands involuntarily clench into tight fists, my knuckles turning white. It’s clear they aren’t interested in what he has to say, especially Blair, as she shakes her head, her face filled with obvious disinterest as she turns her body away from him,focusing solely on her dancing. This, however, doesn’t seem to dissuade him at all.

How is this fucker not getting the message? I stand, watching more intently as he continues to talk and tries to gain their attention by stepping between Blair and Ronnie, inching in even closer.

Even from this far away, I can see Blair’s frustration reach its peak as she abruptly stops dancing and launches into a scathing tirade before motioning for the other women to join her on the opposite side of the dance floor.

It’s always been the joke that I’m the lover, not the fighter. When you have two feisty friends like Blair and Ronnie, they’ve always been the first to handle any trouble that came our way. But as the man forcefully grabs Blair’s arm and yanks her toward him, a surge of fury courses through me.

I’m seeing red, and before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve charged my way through the crowded dance floor. I probably should’ve known that the women could handle this on their own, but why should they have to? No woman ever deserves to be handled like that.

Amidst the clamor of the women’s loud reprimands, Ronnie’s finger jabbing forcefully into the man’s chest, I maneuver my way through the crowd and push to stand in front of him. It doesn’t matter that this man towers over me, with bulging muscles that rival John Cena’s, or that he appears to look twice my size. All that matters is telling him off.

“Hey, motherfucker, you stay the hell away from them,” I shout, and before I can even register what I’m doing, especially since I’ve never so much as thought of punching someone before, I raise my fist and it connects with this man’s intensely strong jaw.

From there, all hell breaks loose.

29

Blair

Ifind myself teeteringbetween annoyance and appreciation as Ford lands a punch on the irritating creep who insisted on grabbing my attention by any means necessary.

If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that Ronnie and I easily could have handled this on our own. Between the two of us, we’re more than capable of dealing with a handsy asshole. However, Ford rushed in out of nowhere, like some kind of modern knight in shining armor on his white horse as he attempted to swiftly take matters into his own hands—literally.

Sure, very deep down, yes, it’s cute to know that he cares, especially since he’s normally the guy who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Hell, I’ve witnessed him carefully catch spiders and release them outside, valuing their freedom over their demise. Normally I’m all for a good smashing, especially when it comes to both spiders and creepy dudes, but this felt more than a little unnecessary.

The last thing we needed was for complete chaos to break out, as many people rushed in, putting themselves between the twomen. In fact, Ford was pretty lucky so many intervened, since it was pretty obvious the man was ready to go balls to the wall on Ford to a pulp for taking that hit, and he very much had the capability to do so. There was still plenty of yelling, cursing, and shoving going on, but luckily it all came to a halt pretty quickly, especially once the bar’s security took over and escorted the man out.

Thankfully, they didn’t kick us out as well, but given that the man had clearly been over-served and had been bothering more than just us, we were issued a stern warning instead.

With things settling down, I feel a powerful urge to unleash my anger on Ford, especially with the risk of Ronnie or another bridesmaid getting hurt amidst all the chaos only days away from the wedding. However, as I glance at Ford, with clear signs of guilt and frustration etched on his face, it’s obvious he’s already beating himself up enough for the both of us.

My eyes immediately fall to the hand that he’s attempting to cradle and hide. My stern demeanor disappears as I take a step forward and pull his hand toward me.

“Shit, Ford.” I frown, my eyes taking in the already bruised and swollen knuckles.

“Yeah, I think I may have underestimated the fact that my hand was likely going to end up in just as much pain as the guy’s face. Then again, given how strong that guy’s jaw was, I’m starting to wonder if I even caused any damage at all,” he admits with a forced smile, which he displays in an obvious attempt to disguise the discomfort he’s clearly feeling.

“Well, given the fact that the guy and his buddies are gone, it’s clear your brutish display of manhood worked to some effect,” I offer, nodding toward the exit. “And if anything, you should just be happy that we aren’t being escorted out of here tonight with them.”

While I’m sure it would’ve been a memorable story that we’d laugh about in the future whenever we talked about Ronnie’s bachelorette party, I have to imagine that current Ronnie wouldn’t be all that happy about having to end the night a little early if things had gone differently.

This place has always been special to the two of us, and was even where we got the most use out of our fake IDs when we were younger. Coming here tonight felt like the perfect and only way to celebrate one of my best friend’s last nights as a single woman, and I can't bear the thought of something tarnishing the memory of such a permanent fixture in our lives.

Not to mention, she looks absolutely breathtaking in her bride-to-be outfit, and it would be such a shame if she couldn’t flaunt it to the fullest.

“I’d hate myself forever if that had been the case,” he says, his frown somehow deepening. “I honestly don’t even know what I was thinking. One second I was watching that guy approach you from the other side of the room, and the next thing I knew I was marching over there. I just lost complete control, and I’m so sorry.”

“Well, next time, before you run out there acting like Rocky Balboa, maybe take some boxing lessons first,” I playfully suggest, before reaching for his good hand and lead him toward the bar.

Despite the bartenders’ evident displeasure at our disruptive behavior, they begrudgingly provide us with a baggie filled with ice.

“How about you head out back, and I’ll go and talk with the girls and meet you in a few?” I suggest, as he solemnly nods his head, all the fight taken out of him.

While he makes his way to the back exit, I take a moment to let out a steadying breath before I head back toward our table.

---