“So you’re sober like a judge, huh?”
I nod.
“Shit. No wonder you’re bored.” He laughs. “Want a sip of mine?” he asks, holding out his beer bottle for me.
“I would rather stick with water. Thank you.”
“Water won’t make any of these pricks any more interesting, petal. Come on. Just one sip.”
“No, thank you.”
“Fuck. Are you always this polite?” He chuckles again in blatant mockery of me, making my lips pinch into a fine line. “Fine,” he relents when he sees I don’t find his light teasing amusing. “You don’t want to drink, then I won’t force you.”
It takes everything in me to bite back the thank you that wants to come out on reflex alone.
“But it will be a shame if you don’t have a little fun on your wedding day. Everyone else is having a grand ol’ time. Don’t see why you shouldn’t.”
It’s true.
Everyone is having a good time, while I sit here all alone, watching life pass me by.
“If getting stinking drunk is off the menu, then what would you like to do?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused, turning my head to face him at last.
The beaming triumphant smile that crests his lips should have me on high alert, but surprisingly, it doesn’t. I can see how Shay is able to snare his prey so easily. His smile alone is disarming.
“There must be something we can do to remedy the shitty time you’ve been having tonight. I mean, do you really want to look back on your wedding day and only remember how bored you were?”
“This is a transaction. Not exactly a cause for celebration.”
“You’re right,” he replies somewhat regretfully, as if only now remembering the circumstances that brought me to Boston in the first place. “Perdóname.”
I shrug off his apology.
“It is what it is. I’ve made peace with it,” I lie, turning my attention back to the party in front of me.
“Hmm,” he mumbles unconvinced. “Even so, you’ll only get married once. Which means this is all you’ve got, petal. Might as well make the most of it.”
I’m not sure what troubles me more. Shay wanting to salvage my night by imposing his glass half-full mentality on me, or his insistence on calling me petal. I’m about to chastise him for the ludicrous nickname and remind him of acceptable decorum, when I let out an unladylike shriek the minute Shay grabs the chair beneath me and turns it towards him.
“Nuh huh,” he reprimands, shaking his head while his hands grip the sides of my chair, his body leaning too close for comfort to mine. “Let’s imagine this is a happy occasion. That you have just married your prince charming and that everyone you love is here.”
I open my mouth to lecture him on the absurdity of his statement, but close it shut and widen my eyes when he has the audacity of pressing one lone finger to my lips.
“Just do it, Rosa. Come on. Name one thing you always imagined yourself doing on your wedding day. Just one thing and then I’ll leave you alone. Promise.”
“I don’t need your pity,” I rebuke coldly, leaning as far away from him as I can.
“Good, because you don’t have it. Now answer my question. All little girls fantasize about their wedding day. So don’t tell me there isn’t one thing you envisioned yourself doing today. I’m not buying it.”
All the humor in his expression has been stripped away, leaving only a man resolute in his mission. My nose crinkles and my shoulders slump as I turn my head away from him and watch the cheerful crowd laugh and dance the night away.
“I… um… I would have liked to dance at my wedding. At least once.”
I don’t have to look at Shay to see that his victorious smile has returned.
“That’s it? Just one dance?”
I nod shyly, hating that I’ve let him see such silly vulnerability in me.
“Then if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get,” he states, but before he’s able to stand from his chair, I hold onto his wrist to stop him.
When his gaze zones in on my fingers on his skin, I quickly remember myself and pull them away. I swallow the lump in my throat as he waits for me to explain why I stopped him.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“I’m a nice guy. Just ask anyone,” he jokes lightheartedly.
“That’s not what I’ve heard.”
“Your brother’s opinion of me doesn’t count.”