Page 19 of Curvy Love

I’m halfway through organizing my notes when my phone dings several times in a row. They’re from Mark’s number, but I know immediately that he’s not the one who sent them.

First there are two pictures of me from the wedding, both with Alex. One, we’re dancing and we look very much like a couple. A couple ready to tear each other’s clothes off. The look on his handsome face is nothing short of ravenous. The second picture is him feeding me a piece of the wedding cake and smashing a little of it on my lips. I’m smiling like a fool and we both look ridiculously happy.

MARK: Laurel, this is Gwen. I know that I technically told you to come to the wedding, but I did that for Mark’s sake and frankly I didn’t think you’d actually follow through with it. Who comes to their ex-boyfriend’s wedding?

MARK: You, apparently.

MARK: But seriously, could you have made it more obvious that you were trying to make him jealous? (I’m being sarcastic, in case you can’t tell.)

I roll my eyes because only people who don’t actually know how to be sarcastic have to tell people when they’re doing it. Still her words are hitting their mark and my heart is pounding and my stomach is rolling.

MARK: You wore that super slutty dress and I don’t know what you were thinking. Mark loves me, he’s with me, he married ME. You just ended up making yourself look pathetic that you were trying so hard to make him jealous.

I blow out a breath and set down my phone. The truth is, I’d kinda forgotten that I was even at my ex-boyfriend’s wedding. Alex consumed all of my thoughts. He was the perfect date and I had an amazing time with him. We laughed and talked and it was just fun. I hadn’t tried to make Mark feel anything. I went originally because he asked me too and we were friends. I never would have gone if I thought it would make Gwen say such nasty things to me.

Is that what everyone at the wedding thought? That I was desperately trying to make Mark jealous?

And just like that all my thoughts about studying are gone. All my glow and happiness from last night, gone.

I get up and go make myself a sandwich, and try to read for a bit while I’m eating. I want to text my sisters but they’re not going to be helpful, they’re just going to be annoyed at Mark and that’s not helpful.

When I get back to my desk, I’ve got three missed calls. All from Mark. Well screw that, I already had to read through her nasty texts, I don’t want to listen to her say those same words to me. Besides, aren’t they supposed to be on their honeymoon?

Why is she even bothering with me?

But there’s a voicemail and I’m too damn curious to not hit play.

I’m surprised when it’s Mark’s voice on the recording.

“Laurel, I’m really sorry about those texts. Gwen is really insecure and frankly you really intimidate her. I didn’t realize you coming to the wedding would be an issue for her or I wouldn’t have invited you. You and I have been friends a long time, but maybe it would have been best to just…” he blows out a breath.

“Listen, can you just call me back really quick? We’re waiting for a plane transfer and I’d like to clear this up before we’re in the air again.”

I hit call because I just want this to be over with.

“Laurel, thank you for calling me back.”

“What do you want, Mark?”

“I just wanted to apologize. Gwen feels bad, too. Well, not right now, but she will once her flying Xanax wears off.” He kinda chuckles.

“What the hell, Mark? I intimidate her? That’s dumb. She’s a beauty queen for fuck’s sake.”

“Local, but yes, she is. And she is beautiful and I love her, she’s everything to me. But you do intimidate her. She’s not as educated, and she doesn’t have the same past with me that you do, we’re not from the same place. It’s a whole list.”

“How is it possible that I intimidate anyone? I’m completely unassuming. I’m like … Skipper to her Barbie.”

“You mean you’re a captain? Like, of a boat?”

“No. Not a skipper. Skipper. The doll.”

“I don't know who Skipper is.”

I’m nearly laughing now, despite the fact that none of this is funny. But it’s also completely ridiculous. Naturally Mark doesn’t know who Skipper is. He was the oldest of two brothers. Not a Barbie in sight, I’d bet.

“She was Barbie’s kid sister. Or maybe her friend. I don’t remember. But that’s the point. No one remembers Skipper. Because she’s not Barbie.”

Some tiny part of me, expects Mark to laugh at how stupid this conversation has gotten.

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