CEREMONY PREPS.
1674 Words
18:00. My phone chimed, and Sam immediately snatched it. “Oh my! It’s him,” she squealed.
“Who?” I asked, rushing over.
“Zack! He really came!” Her excitement made me feel nervous in ways I couldn’t explain. My heart thumped, and suddenly every other thought I had been clinging to—about Xavier, about my book, about trying to stay sane—seemed trivial.
I ran to the window, and there he was. Handsome, confident, leaning against his jeep. His white shirt was perfectly tucked into jeans that fit him like a second skin. The sunlight hit him just right, making every movement he made seem deliberate, effortless. My cheeks warmed instantly, and I tried not to imagine what it would be like to just… reach out and touch his hand.
Sam rushed to the window beside me, giggling like a schoolgirl. “You really make a good impression when it comes to rich guys.”
“Come on, it’s just a student-teacher relationship,” I replied, rolling my eyes. We both sat down on the bed, and I felt a strange combination of nerves and excitement twisting in my stomach.
“I’ll call it the student-teacher thing. The relationship is that of you and Mr. Zulu.” Sam smirked. We both laughed. Mr. Zulu was one of the toughest teachers to approach, but beneath his stern exterior, he was surprisingly kind.
I stood in front of the mirror, glancing at my reflection. I loved the comfort of my loose denim shorts and white t-shirt. “I’ll just head out like this,” I said. Comfort came first today.
“Yeah. You look pretty awesome,” Sam said sincerely.
“Thanks.” I grabbed my phone from her hand, my fingers brushing hers for a moment longer than necessary. My heart skipped.
Outside, Zack’s smile was impossible to ignore. It said everything, and yet nothing. I felt myself blushing, forgetting all about his “Mr. Da Vinci” act from last night.
“You look gorgeous,” he said as he stepped closer, taking my hand with ease.
“Thank you.” I forced a casual smile, trying to steady my racing heart. “What brought you all the way here?”
“I dared you to kiss me yesterday,” he replied, smirking.
“Stop being a jerk,” I almost snapped, but something in the way he grinned made me pause.
His hands flew up in mock surrender. “I wanted to talk to you. Can we go somewhere?”
Before I could respond, he opened the car door, gesturing for me to get in. I hesitated for a heartbeat but then slid in. He rushed to the driver’s seat, and soon, we were walking along the beach, the salty breeze whipping our hair and cooling our heated faces.
“Truth or dare?” he asked suddenly, as usual, his tone teasing.
“I told you…” I began.
“We are best friends,” he interrupted, his eyes locking on mine with that infuriating confidence.
“Truth,” I muttered.
“Why were you crying last night?”
I froze. That was the last thing I expected. “I thought this was about my book?” I exhaled, attempting nonchalance.
“You made me speak about the past I never wanted to speak about in that studio,” he said quietly.
I stopped walking, exasperated. “What? I never forced you to.”
“I never said you forced me,” he countered.
“Then don’t use it to make me talk about myself,” I snapped.
He paused, quietly staring at me, and I realized my anger had been unnecessary. I looked away, embarrassed, wishing the sand would swallow me whole. He stepped closer, taking my hands gently in his.
“Don’t cry if he never picks up your call again. Call me instead,” he said softly.
Our eyes locked for a long, breathless moment before he broke contact, letting go of my hands. “I just wanted to be someone you need. But I won’t force that,” he added, starting to walk ahead.
A pang of guilt hit me—had I hurt him? My chest tightened, the questions swirling in my head.
“What do you want me to do?” I called out, my voice cracking slightly. He turned back, giving a subtle nod, signaling me to follow, and I did, my footsteps quickening.
“Kiss me,” he commanded. I shrugged, my heartbeat quickening as we continued walking, our fingers brushing occasionally, sending sparks up my arm.
“I ran into him and his girlfriend the day I came back. He never called or texted from that day. I think that’s his way of saying goodbye,” I admitted, voice soft.
“He’s a total jerk, isn’t he?” I added, but he didn’t respond.
“I said…” I began, but he interrupted.
“I heard what you said. I just thought you didn’t want to talk about it,” he said.
“Of course I didn’t,” I admitted.
“Then, did I force you?”
“No, you didn’t,” I replied.
He shrugged, and I groaned in embarrassment. He really had a talent for making my life chaotic in the sweetest, maddening way.
“Come on,” I yelled, running to him. “Why are you doing that?”
“Doing what?” he asked innocently.
“Walking away from me! We can talk things out instead of just… walking!”
He smiled, finally sitting down on a nearby bench. I joined him.
“Eve?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” I replied.
“What do you want for your wedding?”
No one had ever asked me that—not even myself. “A blue wedding,” I murmured, images of the fantasy I had written in my book flashing in my mind.
He sighed, a warm, thoughtful sound. “You described it well in your book.” He leaned back slightly. “Lots of writers write what they fantasize about,” he added. I couldn’t find words to respond.
“I heard you became a kids-author,” he added casually.
“What?” I almost panicked, realizing I hadn’t told him. “How did you know?”
He chuckled. “Congratulations.” His hand rested over mine, and I felt a warmth spreading through me. “Your future is bright. I envy you.”
I forced a smile, enjoying the gentle breeze, the soft touch of his hand, the moment that seemed too good to last. Thoughts of Xavier intruded, but I pushed them aside.
“I have to go for a dress fitting,” I said, attempting to regain composure. I couldn’t let myself fall for him—not when Xavier still held a piece of my heart.
“Let’s go together,” he said.
“I have to go with Sam,” I replied.
“Then let’s all go together,” he insisted, standing and helping me to my feet.
We arrived at the boutique, the opulent display overwhelming. Buttons, sequins, fabrics shimmering under the lights—everything out of my budget. Sam looked sheepish, but excited, sliding inside after us.
“What’s the theme of the wedding again?” I asked nervously.
“Gold. You’ll never find anything gold anywhere else that’s not here,” he said, eyes glinting mischievously.
“Don’t look at the price tag. Anything will look good on you,” he said, his confidence infectious.
We started digging through racks, sifting through gowns, each one more breathtaking than the last. I marveled at the intricate embroidery, the shimmering beads, the flowing satin. My fingers grazed the fabrics, imagining myself in each dress, trying not to imagine the way Zack’s eyes would linger on me.
He hovered nearby, offering opinions in that infuriatingly charming way. “Try that one. No, wait, that one better fits the theme.” His suggestions were helpful, yet teasing, making me blush every time our hands brushed accidentally.
I found a gown that made me gasp, its delicate gold threads catching the light. “This one,” I whispered, awe-struck.
“It’s perfect,” Zack said, his grin spreading. “Absolutely perfect.”
The boutique staff fussed over us, measuring, adjusting, and pinning. Sam kept giggling, whispering commentary about how ridiculous and spoiled I was, and I laughed along, caught between embarrassment and exhilaration.
Hours seemed to pass in minutes. Zack guided me gently, never rushing, always attentive. I caught glimpses of the sunset through the boutique windows, painting the room in hues of pink and orange, mirroring the warmth spreading in my chest.
As we finally stepped outside, the evening air was cool against my skin, and I breathed deeply, letting the scents of salt and flowers mingle. Zack’s hand found mine again, fingers entwining naturally.
“Thank you,” I murmured, feeling a twinge of something I couldn’t quite name.
“For what?”
“For… everything,” I said, glancing up at him, feeling exposed but safe.
He smiled softly. “You don’t have to thank me. Just… let me be here for you.”
I nodded, silently wondering if letting him in could ever be as simple as it sounded. My heart whispered, but my mind still held Xavier’s shadow.
We walked in silence for a while, the sound of waves crashing against the shore filling the space between us. Each step, each brush of hands, each shared glance made it painfully clear—I was treading a line I wasn’t sure I was ready to cross.
But for now, I let myself enjoy the moment, the warmth of his hand, the simplicity of being with someone who saw me, who didn’t rush me, who… just was there.
And for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself a fleeting thought: maybe, just maybe, the future could hold more than one kind of love after all.
- Writer
