Page 105 of Overtime
It is kind of funny. But it’s also kind of sad that we’re all out here desperately looking for love in a silly tradition when men are so… unavailable. Let’s call it that.
My sister swings the bouquet once, twice, and throws. Amid squeals, the women struggle, trying to trace the arch. It’s pretty high. The beautiful arrangement of white roses and pink peonies spins in the air, tendrils of decorative ribbon making quite a lovely swirl in the air. This will show up in the highlight reels of the night.
I frown. Goodness, Meg should’ve been a football quarterback. This thing is still going.
Straight to me.
“Oh, crap.” The pack of hyenas skid as they try to change tack. I take a few steps back, one eye on them and one on the flowers.
One thing happens and one doesn’t. The one that does is that I shut my eyes tight and extend my hands just in case, but instead of protecting me, something soft and perfumed lands in them. The one that doesn’t happen is that I don’t get run over.
I crack one eye open. The women groan, some glare. But no one’s busting the hockey enforcer moves on me to steal the bouquet. Beyond them, Meg is doing a happy dance, as if this was her plan all along. I wouldn’t put it past her.
Mom materializes right next to me. “Smile for the cameras, sweetie.”
This time I’m sure there’s a grimace on my face instead of a smile.
“Isn’t this great, Maddie!” Meg makes her way over, grinning from ear to ear. “Can’t wait to attend your wedding next.”
“First she has to find a man,” Mom says through a tight smile as we get pictures taken. “Any man will do at this point.”
“Gee, Mom. I’m only twenty-one, and this isn’t the Regency era.”
She’s squinting at something in the distance instead of paying attention to me, though. “Who is that?”
“Who?” Meg asks, standing on her tippy-toes to try to see around the people on the dance floor.
“Anyway, I’m going to?—”
My words die in my mouth because a stirring in the crowd catches my attention too. Between the strobe lights flashing in the dark and the people coming and going or dancing out of sync to a DJ relying mostly on playlists, it’s hard to see. But I see it, all right. It would be impossible to miss a guy who is a foot taller than me.
I turn into a statue, which my Mom and Meg notice immediately.
And Meg, being the smart one of the family, immediately says, “Wait, is that your plus-one?”
He’s wearing the tie I got him.
I should’ve run away earlier.
Aran makes a determined straight line toward me, and I try to peel away, but Mom’s vise grip on my arm won’t let me.
“Maddie, I’m sorry I’m late,” he says, as if anyone asked him. Before I can react, he extends his hand to my mom. “Hi, I’m Aran Rodriguez, Maddie’s plus-one.”
“Oh?” Mom looks him up and down. Twice. And then turns to me with a cocked eyebrow. “Is that so?” If disbelief turned into a human being, it would be her right now.
Meanwhile, my sister says, “So great you could come! You’ve missed a lot of the fun, though.”
Aran is his usual impassive self, and tonight, it irritates me. I wish he had the capacity to look contrite, at least because it would mean he cares enough to feel that. But maybe I shouldn’t expect feelings out of someone who hasn’t committed to them. That’s my fault.
“Mom, Megs. I need to talk with Aran for a moment.” I hand Mom the flowers and add, “Alone.”
“Of course.” Meg laces her arm with Mom’s and pulls her away, saying, “Let’s go see if Justin’s ready for the garter toss.”
“But—”
“Come, Mother.”
Crap, why did I send them off? As much as I didn’t want them to engage with Aran, I also don’t want to be alone with him. I’ve been avoiding it for a week for reasons. The main one being that looking into his eyes makes me want to bawl mine out.
