Page 53 of Kiss Slay Replay

“Yeah.” I’m not sure what else to say.

“Don’t sweat it. You’ll find someone new. Just not before me, I hope! Oh my God, I would die.” She shimmies closer. “Have you met Jason’s friend Danny? He’s hot and single. Yes, please. Dibs! I’m kidding. But I’m not.”

And just like that, I remember why my friends don’t like Vicky. I fake a smile and change the subject. “How’s work going?”

Our conversation gets cut short as we’re urged to find our seats for dinner.

There’s a kitschy sign just inside the doors of the reception hall with a seating chart. All the college friends—sans Vicky, thank God—are at table four. I get to the table first, pick the chair at the head. It’s a strategic choice. It’s tucked away, but I’m not boxed in; my back isn’t to a window, but I can see out of one. Part of me is still anticipating the sound of a scream at any moment.

Cassie sits next to me. She picks up the menu. “Fucking love a wedge salad.”

“Who doesn’t?” Evan asks, sitting on my other side, Wyatt next to him, Luke next to Cassie. The table is split—us on one side, relatives on the other. Aunts, uncles, cousins.

There’s an odd number of chairs at table four, and I realize it’s my fault. Everyone else is in a pair except for me. Navigating the world alone is not only harder, but also pretty fucking embarrassing.

I sip from the glass of champagne at my place setting even though I know it’s meant to be saved for the toast. Desperate times.

Ravi and Tanya are sat at a table in the opposite corner of the venue, the dance floor a buffer between us. Tanya is stuck next to Vicky, so maybe there is some justice in the world. Congrats on your new relationship with my ex-fiancé—have fun hearing about Great Value Barbie’s essential oil business.

A very DJ-looking DJ appears in the booth and tells us to please welcome our bride and groom. Steph and Jace bounce in holding hands. He twirls her. Dips her. Almost drops her. Everyone laughs. I discreetly sip more champagne.

They have their first dance to “Your Song” by Elton John. Everyone gathers around the dance floor to watch. I stand at the back of the crowd. About halfway through, people join in singing. The entire room belting out Elton. Except for me. And I’m assuming Ravi because he hates this kind of shit. He’s angled away from me so I can’t see his face. Again, I wonder if it’s intentional. If he’s purposely avoiding me. If he can’t stand to look at me.

If he’s really moved on, if he’s happy with her, why would he care?

“Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean.” So loud and soooo off-key. “Yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

I see you.

Someone’s watching. I feel it. Slowly, fear-stiff, I turn around, turn to look out the window. Each fraction of a second increasing my abject terror, my certainty that I will be greeted by those stolen eyes.

There is something out the window. But it isn’t the Eyeball Man. It looks like—looked like, it’s already gone—a floating hat. A weird, tattered, old-fashioned black top hat. It was cartoonishly tall, with a wide brim that folded up at the sides. And I swear I saw a fucking feather sticking out of it.

I take a step closer to the window, my guts twisting, breath hitching deep in my throat.

There’s nothing out there except the path, and the parking lot beyond it, and the woods beyond that.

It was a caterer. Or a bird. A bird. Of-fucking-course. The feathers.

The song fades out. There’s applause. Luke does his obnoxious finger whistle. I turn back to the dance floor in time to see Jace lift Steph up and spin her around, kiss her. Now Steph’s dad takes to the dance floor for their father-daughter dance. It’s painful to plan a wedding when you’re estranged from your parents, but it was two less people I had to worry about disappointing when I called it off.

Ravi’s family had been my family for the last eight years. I’ve lost them, too.

“I’m starving,” Cassie mumbles to me as I come up beside her.

I take another cautious look over my shoulder, out the window. No one’s there. Deep breath. I exhale my neurosis, force it out of my lungs, my body, my mind.

There’s no psychotic murderer stalking the campground. The worst thing that’s going to happen tonight is I’m going to run into Tanya in the bathroom, be forced to make small talk while close enough to notice her imperfections only to realize she doesn’t have any.

I don’t begrudge Cassie for encouraging me to watch all those horror movies, which is without a doubt a contributing factor as to why I had the dream. Because she was right. They did give me perspective.

I’m going to enjoy this night because I’m going to survive it.

Jace has his dance with his mother, and then the DJ instructs us to sit down, and the catering staff brings out the salad course and bottles of wine. I opt for the red. Cassie opts out, which is probably for the best because she’s clearly already drunk.

“I’ll sober up once I eat,” she says, cutting into her wedge.

“Nothing like a wedge salad to soak up all that liquor,” Evan says.