See? I can’t allow myself to be idle. I open my mouth and restart my prattling, this time discussing how I plan to dig out my flower beds this fall and plant tall grasses to hide the post of the mailbox.
“I can do that for you,” Jack says.
I jolt in surprise at his response. “Do what?”
“Pull out your flower beds and plant the grasses. I’ll do that for you,” he repeats.
My jaw falls open a notch. “You were listening?”
He maneuvers into the church parking lot and pulls his Jeep into a slot near the back door. “Yeah, and for the record, deer urine and testicles sound terrible. You should definitely stay away from that shit.” He winks before hopping out of the truck.
My jaw drops to the floor. I catch a glimpse of myself in the truck’s window, see the fish face gaping back at me and snap my mouth shut just as Jack is opening my door. A shit-eating grin is spread across his face.
“I am a detective,” he reminds me.
“Yeah, well, you haven’t detected everything,” I retort and then finish silently, because you have no clue how much I love you and how much it kills me every moment we spend together as friends. I’m the literally the stupidest person on earth to agree to pretend to be in a relationship with you at a freaking wedding.
I jump out of the truck, avoiding his hand, and stomp toward the chapel. I get a small rush of satisfaction at his stupefied expression, but by the time I reach the back door, it’s gone and I feel small. I turn back.
“Sorry, that was dumb of me. I don’t know why I snapped at you.” Liar. You snapped at him because you love him and you know he doesn’t love you. As if that’s his fault.
His bemused look brightens. “Nah, I shouldn’t have acted like I didn’t hear you. I did. I was just…” He trails off and squints slightly, as if searching for the right words. “Just off in my own world.” His plush lower lip juts out slightly. “Forgive me?”
My eyes fall to his plump, bitable mouth and before I can help it, my tongue darts out and sweeps across my lower lip.
I hear a hitched breath. My body tenses and nerve endings start firing electric bolts down to the ends of my fingertips, to my toes, between my legs. The oxygen grows thin and scarce. I try to inhale, but there’s no air. My head grows light and I start to sway.
His large hand glides up my arm and stops at my shoulder. His fingers curl around the ball joint, but instead of steadying me, he steps forward, so close that my nose is nearly touching the small white plastic buttons of his dress shirt. So close that I feel the heat of his big body beaming across mine. So close that I swear I can feel something long and hard press into the softness of my belly.
My hand rises of its own volition, climbing up the hard planes of his chest until I reach his shoulder. My breasts, the overflowing mounds that Jack wanted me to cover, begin to prickle and my nipples tighten behind the confines of my bra.
“Daphne,” he begins to say in a voice harsh and low.
My name, said just like that, wends through my head, thrumming in time with the pulse of my blood. Daphne. Daphne. Daphne.
“Daphne!”
A loud, piercing noise penetrates my sexual fog.
“It’s your mom.” Jack claps a hand against the back of his neck and squeezes tight enough to turn his fingertips white.
With my heart still pounding, I turn to see my mom barreling down on us. “Daphne, we’ve been waiting for you!” she admonishes.
I give myself a shake and check my watch. How much time passed out here in the parking lot? How long did I stare into Jack’s eyes and pretend like we were really dating, like he was really my man, like I had the right to maul him with my eyes? The watch says only a few minutes have ticked by. My stomach twists with…relief. Right? It’s relief, not disappointment.
“Am I late? I thought the instructions said to get here at one and it’s twelve forty-five.”
“Everyone knows that members of the bridal party should get here at least an hour in advance.” She waves for me to get inside.
It’s hard to walk across the parking lot when half my body is liquified from standing so close to Jack, but I manage to do so. When I reach her, Mom immediately grabs my arm, her long nails biting into the thin skin of my inner elbow.
“Go on inside and get your makeup and hair done. We’re going to take pictures at two. I see Brad’s not here.” She tsks her tongue against the top of her mouth. “Good afternoon, Jack. I don’t recall that we invited you.”