Page 21 of Holiday Unscripted
She looks over her shoulder at me. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the bowling thing,” she says. “We can work on it more then.”
“Sounds good.” I lean into the bar and then look around for Elizabeth, who is now sitting at a table with Jack and Evie as they laugh at something. I grab my beer and head over to their table, pulling out the chair next to her. She looks up at me. “I was wondering where you were.”
“What?” she questions, her eyebrows pinching together. “Where did you think I would be?”
“I don’t know,” I tell her, “one minute you were on the stage, the next—poof like a puff of smoke—you have disappeared.”
“I’m sure you were really watching,” she goads, “at the same time you were trying to pick up the maid of honor.” She points to the bar. “I didn’t think you wanted me as a wingman."
"What the heck are you talking about?" I ask her, seeing Jack and Evie exchange looks, their eyes wide at our exchange. Their heads bobbing back and forth like they are watching a tennis match. If I think about it, we have never ever not bantered back and forth. Well, except for that one night we spent together. Her mouth was too busy doing other things to sass me. A vision of her ripping off her shirt once we got into my apartment now fills my head. The smirk she gave me before sliding down to her knees is etched in my memory, as if it was yesterday and not seven years ago.
“Are you okay?” Jack asks me. “Your face went like really red there for a minute.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Do you need water?”
“I’m fine.” I turn back to look at Elizabeth and her bare shoulders and I have this sudden need to bite her. “I have no idea what the hell you are talking about.”
“Well, you were flirting with her.” She leans back in her chair, tapping her finger on the table in front of her. “Or at least you were trying to. The reason I know this is she laughed at your joke.” She tilts her head to the side. “And, well, between me and you; you aren’t funny at all.”
“For your information,” I snap at her, “we were collaborating.”
“About how you wanted to get her in your bed?” She snorts. “I know, I saw.”
“For a speech,” I hiss at her. “For the maid of honor and best man speech.” She nods her head at me like sure. “Do you think I would try to pick up the maid of honor?”
“Yes,” she snorts out, then she whips her head to Evie and Jack, slapping her hand on the table. The smile is gone from her face and in its place is a look of seriousness. “Wait, is she staying with you guys?” she asks Evie and Jack. “Because if she is, maybe we could do a swap or an exchange, one girl for the other.”
“She is not staying with us,” Jack answers, trying to hide his smirk.
“Fuck,” she swears, and I just shake my head.
“Sucks for you.” I point at her. “You’re stuck with me.”
“It does suck that your pickup game is lame.” She laughs. “See what I did there? I rhymed.”
“You are the only one laughing at your joke,” I inform her.
“Evie”—Jack turns to proposition his wife—“would you like to come to the bathroom to make out with me?” He gets up and she smiles up at him.
“That’s disgusting,” Elizabeth says. “Go make out in the corner like normal people.” She points to the corner. “Or you can wait until you get home.”
“Yeah, but then I have to sit here awkwardly with the two of you as you trade insults with each other.”
“Um, that’s insulting,” Elizabeth informs him. “I’m the only one trading anything at this point; he can’t even do that right.” She folds her arms over her chest, and I have the sudden need to kiss the shit out of her if only to make her shut the fuck up.
“Okay, everyone.” The emcee comes back to the mic. “It’s time for some holiday sing-along.”
“No, absolutely fucking not.” Elizabeth shakes her head. “I’m leaving. I’d rather sit outside on your front steps than stay here to sing ‘Winter Wonderland.’” She gets up. “This is my Irish goodbye,” she states and she literally looks around once, not saying anything to anyone before she just heads for the fucking door.
I look over at Joshua and motion to the door, and his eyes catch the back of his sister’s head. He gives me a chin up and then I turn and rush out of the bar, seeing her walking to the truck. “You were so sure I was going to follow you out here?” I say, unlocking the door.
“No”—she looks over her shoulder—“I was going to actually wait in the truck until you were ready.” She pulls open the door. “Which it looks like you are ready now.” She gets in. “Unless you want to try to stay and see if Mindy is going to come home with you tonight.”
“First off,” I start, opening my own truck door, “her name is Belinda.” I really fucking hope it’s Belinda since I called her that five times.
“Is it?” She tilts her head to the side. “Are you sure about that?” She puts so much doubt in me that I pull out my phone and search up her name in the wedding emails we’ve been getting weekly.
“Aha,” I say, turning it to face her, “says right there Belinda, maid of honor.”
“Made you look.” She claps her hands and laughs. Her phone rings from her back pocket and she pulls it out.
