How to Ruin a Wedding(43)
13.
Seeing as how Anders and John have exchanged fewer than three words in thirty minutes, my promise to avoid an awkward night feels like false advertising. The two men greeted each other, led us to a booth overlooking the dozens of pool tables and a heavily populated curved bar, and haven’t said a word since.
Valerie returns from the bar with a round of double shots for our table, and I refrain from thanking God outside my own thoughts.
“Here”—I push two of the wet glasses toward Anders—“loosen up.”
Valerie downs one herself before snuggling up beside John, holding his glass to his lips. Anders scowls at them, and I grab his chin to do the same.
This earns me a frown. I give him a look that reads You’re not helping. He returns one that reads I’m at a bar with what used to be a close friend who’s marrying my sister. He wins the silent argument, but downs the shot anyway.
“Come on,” Valerie says. “You’re really not drinking?”
“No,” I say. “My liver is on its last leg right now. I’ll stick to water.”
“Don’t be a bore.” Valerie pushes a shot at me.
Anders takes it and drinks it in a gulp. My gaze watches the way his Adam’s apple bobbles, and something about the movement sends a jolt of heat between my legs. He peels the glass away, and leftover whiskey gathers at the side of his lips, slowly slipping down his chin.
Jesus Christ, Lucinda, you’re like a dog in heat.
In a humiliating moment, my hands act of their own accord, lifting themselves to wipe away the droplet. I freeze, hand midair, as his gaze pins me in place.
Anders takes my thumb to his mouth and swipes the liquor from his skin. The act alone is enough to send my stomach into a frenzy. But then he pulls my thumb into his mouth and sucks the alcohol from my finger.
An arrow of heat shoots itself directly between my legs.
Unable to resist the instinctual urge to rub them together and relieve the heat building, I cross them, snatch my hand away from Anders, and direct my attention to John.
“So, sorry to be blunt, but as much as it makes Anders feel awkward, I’m so interested in you two.” I smile between them. “I mean, John, you must have only seen Valerie in tiny moments between hanging with Anders. What was the moment you realized you had feelings for her?”
He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, looking at Valerie for immediate assistance with what I would assume is a very basic question.
“We’ve always had these little moments the few times I was around when he was visiting Anders.” Valerie speaks for him. “Questioning glances, tiny brushes, but I just thought he was my brother’s cute friend, never made it a big deal. Then, when we saw each other at that party, I don’t know, everything just clicked. We realized it could never work with anyone else because we were meant to be. There aren’t words to explain it; you just feel it. We couldn’t be apart. We couldn’t, wouldn’t, let anything come between us.”
I face John. “What was coming between you two?”
“What wasn’t?” Valerie answers again. “The obvious one is scowling right beside you.”
In answer, Anders grabs a free glass and takes another shot.
“Like him, Aunt Bethany had a big problem with us. Thinks the age gap is too large, but it’s not like I’m freshly eighteen years old and he’s been waiting by the clock until I officially became legal. Is seven years really that bad?”
“It’s a big gap,” I admit, “but you are an adult.”
“Thank you,” she says pointedly, “and I can make my own decisions. Sleep with who I want to sleep with.”
“Christ—” Anders mutters.
“John is the one who didn’t want to pursue it. I’m the instigator. He kept pulling away from me, kept shutting me down because he was worried he’d ruin his friendship with Anders. But love is love, and it can’t be contained.”
“Are you still worried about that?” I ask John. “About how you and Anders can’t even look at each other right now?”
“Lucinda—” Anders starts, and I wonder if I came off too strong. But really what I’m hearing is that, eventually, John stopped caring about Anders’s feelings, and if so, fine, but what was it that made him stop?
“I guess,” I say, trying to put together some missing pieces, “what I’m trying to ask is, why right now? Why have you decided Valerie is the one. What happened?”
“What is this, an interrogation?” Valerie asks.
“A friendly questionnaire,” I assure her, but the way she doesn’t speak for John leads me to believe that this is a question she, too, would like an answer to. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No,” John answers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of music and vibration of drunken conversations. “I just fell in love with her. I know it’s fast, but we’ve been without each other for this long, we want to hurry up and spend the rest of our lives together.” He looks toward Anders. “I’m sorry if it’s come between us.”
“It hasn’t,” Anders answers smoothly, and I can’t tell if he’s just saying that, or if he thinks they’ll be okay in the future, once John and Valerie don’t marry.