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“Okay, you’re hot, but I’m into dudes.” She takes a sip of the wine she’s been nursing this whole time.
“I think I need to get up and stretch before my legs are permanently bent into this position.” With my index finger, I gesture my legs before standing up. Raina seems to immediately sink into her thoughts, and I walk off to mingle with some of the guests.
Before I can get very far, I hear Jake’s voice. Jake is Olivia 's brother, and I'm reasonably certain he's had a crush on me since we were teenagers.
“Moira, you look stunning as always.”
I turn around and see those familiar blue eyes. He’d become a banker, but not the stereotypical balding, middle aged frumpy guy. Jake works out and carefully manages his body, skin, and that blond hair of his. “Thank you, Jake,” I say politely, without a shred of interest in him. I try to make my escape but I'm not fast enough.
“How is it possible you are here alone?” he asks, his gaze sweeping down my body and back up.
“Some people are happy alone.” I scan either side of him before meeting his stare again. “Where's your date, Jake?”
He smiles. “Nobody's happy alone. Maybe I saved my plus one for a special lady like yourself.”
“Seems like a silly waste if the person you invite is already invited with their own plus one.” I'm not really enjoying our verbal judo, and I'd like to walk away from the conversation, but worry he’ll think he won somehow. He moves closer to me, and I widen the gap between us.
“I just think it's a shame that a beautiful woman like you is alone at a wedding.” I know he's trying to sound charming, but his words just kind of give me an ick feeling.
“It's not a shame if I'd rather be here alone.” Guys like Jake just don't get it. They seem to think that I only find validation from male attention, and that's just not the truth.
“Don't be so cold, Moira. I know you need some fun. You’re always working, busy, and playing at a rigged man’s game. It’s okay to just be a woman sometimes.” He moves in closer as I stand, stunned, wanting to smack him but not wanting to cause a scene at my friend’s wedding.
“Wow, gross,” I say, before turning my back on him and walking away.
“You’re such a bitch,” he snarls under his breath.
“Takes one to know one, right, Jakey?” I say, laughing as I move toward another group of friends I haven’t seen in a while. “Hey guys, how are you doing?” I ask as their conversation lulls, and everyone stares at me with warm expressions.
We exchange pleasantries and engage in small talk, but I'm not so blind that I don't notice some of the looks of pity or disdain thrown in my direction. “So, Moira, have you met a special someone yet?” Mary asks, her face full of hope.
I shake my head. “I’m not looking.”
Olivia’s uncle lifts his glass in my direction. “That's the way to do it. You always find love when you're not looking.”
I close my eyes and give my head a slight shake before realizing I don't want to have this conversation. Instead, I simply plaster a smile on my face and wait for an opportunity to politely exit. In a moment later, that opportunity arises when I see a familiar looking back of the head walking away from me.
I touch the shoulder of the person standing next to me, halting conversation. “Sorry, I see someone I know. It’s been lovely catching up,” I say before leaving the group and heading for the tall, dark-haired man who can’t possibly be here.
I rush to catch up with the stranger that I'd met on the plane, wondering how it's possible that he'd be here at the same wedding I flew into town for. Is he part of the extended family or a friend I haven't met yet? Maybe he's someone on the groom's side? A hot brother, maybe? But I don't remember seeing him at the ceremony.
I reach out and tap his shoulder, not sure what I’m going to say as my heart pounds wildly in my chest. I can’t wait to ask his name, to actually meet him, to see if his eyes light up when he sees me. Maybe I’m being stupid, but I don’t care.
He turns around and my heart sinks like a stone as a random stranger smiles down at me. “Hello,” he says.
It’s not the man from the plane.
He looks like him, but he’s not the same person. “Do I know you?” he asks, and I shake my head no.
“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else,” I say, trying to curb my disappointment and embarrassment.
“I could be someone else, if you’d like,” he says, his eyes sparkling. But his attempt to be charming only grosses me out, and I offer a smile I don’t feel and shake my head.
“Oh, no, thank you.” With that, I turn and leave, suddenly realizing I wish that the stranger from the plane were here. What the heck is wrong with me?
Chapter Four
Michael
