“Look at him. Who would have thought he would be the first one of us to get married?” Art whispers behind me.
Dan is beaming like the lovesick asshole that he is. I’m happy for him, even if my heart has barely been holding on for the past few months.
But I’m not here for me.
I never was.
I’m solely about Dan and our music.
When they reach us, Sheila gives Art and me a hug and kisses each of our cheeks.
“Thank you, boys, I know you took good care of him all these years.” Then she kisses her son and goes to sit next to Dan’s father and his wife. Everyone is smiling and happy to see Dan at his healthiest. When the music changes to announce the bride, who’s strolling down the aisle to the song Dan and I wrote for the occasion, my gaze locks with Naomi’s again.
Until now, I was never sure it was possible to want to strangle someone and hug them at the same time.
I want to hurt her like she hurt me and hug her because I crave her touch.
I miss her and despise her all the same.
“I’m sorry,” she mouths, a tear falling down her cheek.
I sigh, feeling my heart fissure a little more as I get lost in her beautiful black eyes.
It’s usually hard to read her, but I thought I had her pinned.
I knew her until she told me I didn’t.
That’s what I focus on for the rest of the ceremony, trying not to feel her gaze on me and her appeal for forgiveness. When it’s all over, and we walk back, I don’t offer her my arm. Our bodies brush, but we don’t touch. She tries to take my hand, but I don’t let her.
I hurry my steps to be the first to congratulate Anna and Dan, a smile on my face to hide the turmoil I feel growing inside me.
“Are you going to talk to her?” Anna asks while giving me a hug.
“Did she tell you why I walked away?” She shakes her head slowly.
“So, no. I don’t think my heart can take it anymore.”
“Just fuck her hard in the bathroom and get over it already,” the bride whispers.
I pretend to laugh. “Maybe I’ll fuck my date instead.”
“We have condoms in there just for you and Art,” Dan snickers next to his wife.
“You two are the best.” I hug Dan and slap his shoulders. Anna is now busy with Naomi, and I don’t know what they are saying, but Anna keeps looking in my direction. Oliver stands behind Na, his hand on her shoulder, and I reel at the voice telling me to punch him. It’s not his fault, or at least not entirely.
“Are we ready for pictures?” a young photographer asks, undoubtedly shitting his pants to be in our presence.
“Give them thirty minutes so they can shake some hands, and then they’re all yours. You have forty-five minutes and all the money raised from selling the pictures to the press afterwards will be given to charity, got it?” Dex Crawford, our new lawyer, barks at the young guy, reminding him of the conditions for having someone taking pictures for a magazine.
“Fuckers,” he mumbles between his teeth. I got distracted by the guy and didn’t feel Na sliding up next to me.
“Lars,” she almost moans my name, or maybe I think that’s how she would sound if that was a moan.
“Naomi, please let it go.”
“Let me explain,” she pleads.
I turn to face her, and my eyes connect directly with her cleavage. I trail them up with regret, and they fall on her collarbone and then the curve of her shoulder. I try to stop my thoughts, the ones I should never have about a friend, even if we’re not friends anymore, but when she speaks, I’m mesmerized by her mouth.
The red lipstick matching her dress. Her tongue appearing every time she opens her lips. I haven’t heard a word she’s said.
“Shut up, Na,” I tell her coldly, my mind playing tricks on me again.
“It’s all so ridiculous. It’s none of your business who I—” I drag her by the arm before she can finish her sentence under the scrutiny of our friends and other people.
“Slowdown!” She tries to calm me, but I lost all control the moment my mind thought of her heart-shaped mouth around my cock. Once in a more secluded area, I shove her against the wall and cover her body with mine. Nobody can see who is under me, nobody can know. I press my erection against her and cage her in my arms. She lowers her gaze and widens her eyes.
“Naomi, I said shut up.” I thrust against her, my pants tented. “Your voice, your proximity, your mouth, everything you, is making me lose my mind, Na. So shut up, or I will fuck you, and I’m pretty sure Oliver wouldn’t like me fucking his date.”
Looking up, her eyes are full of challenge. I drop my forehead to hers, craving her more than hating her at the moment.
“Is that why you stayed away? Jealous because Oliver fucks me and you want to? Is that what I need to do to get my best friend back?”
“I don’t fuck what isn’t mine to fuck. You know that about me.”
“I’m your best friend. I’m yours. If you need to fuck me, do it, Lars. Just fuck me.” My lips hang above hers, her taste is at the tip of my tongue, our eyes locked into each other, her breathing heavy.
Would I cross the line?
Should I cross the line?
Someone clears their throat behind us, but the spell doesn’t break.
“Everything alright here? Naomi, are you coming?”
Oliver fucking Spencer. Bane of my existence.
“Am I coming, Lars?” She whispers, brushing her lips against mine, “or not?”
I grunt before shaking my head, our noses touching.
“I miss you,” she murmurs before sliding out from under me and walking back to her date.
I stay a few minutes behind, or maybe longer, because Art comes to get me for picture-time. A sad smile on his face tells me he knows I’m fucked.
“A few pictures and you can hide until the reception. If you want, I’ll even give the speech.” Breathing in deeply, I get my shit together and walk back to where the magic happens.
One more photo shoot, a few extra fake smiles, a couple of years of blue balls, and a damaged heart; nothing I can’t handle.
“Mr. Trouble? Can you hold the maid of honor closer to you?” Naomi sends me a knowing look while I press my fingers in her soft waist and pull her body next to mine.
I hate people calling me Mister.
I hate touching her.
I hate being here.
My thumb doesn’t care anymore though and designs circles on her waist.
“That’s good, but I believe it would be more esthetic if she were in front of you, almost leaning against you.”
I move Na again, as if she was a doll and set her up in front of me.
“Naomi, can you step back a little?” the guy says, and my hand guides her, shoving her ass against my still hard cock.
She moans a little, and I can’t stop myself from leaning in and grazing my chin on her neck.
“Naomi, is there a problem? Do you need to pee? It looks like you’re squirming,” the photographer says.
I chuckle softly.
My palm is now resting on her hip bone, my fingers close to her core.
“I’m fi-fine,” she stutters, taking a big breath in and trying to step away from my hold. I keep her there, not doing anything much more than pressing my dick and my fingers against her. The photographer continues barking orders right and left until he’s ready to shoot. I’m about to as well, feeling her against me.