CHAPTERFOUR
Ben
I stand in front of the mirror, adjusting my tie, swallowing a ball of tension as I think about seeing Becca again.
Becca.
Not June.
It’s the morning of my best friend’s wedding. I shouldn’t be fantasizing about his sister…his sister who has completely transformed since I last saw her.
I struggle to even believe they’re the same person.
Becca was always a background figure in my and Alex’s friendship. I said hello, and I was friendly, but I never noticed her. She was a little kid, either reading a book or snapping photos on her camera.
But now she’s a woman, with curves in all the right places, with a face that makes me want to kiss her, keep kissing her, not stop until my lips are busy doing other things.
The past couple of days have been difficult. Trying not to think about her, trying not to dream about a possible future, trying to tame this wild want inside of me….
It all feels impossible. It feels like I’m already failing.
The only chance I have – or would have – is not to see her again.
But she’s going to be at the wedding. She’s going to be at the reception afterward.
I walk to the window, looking over the grounds of the hotel. It’s a bright day. I should be thinking about how happy I am for Alex and Tiffany. They’ve got perfect weather for their fairytale wedding.
And yet it’s her my thoughts are drawn to, my Becca. Her flushed cheeks, her shy smile, and the sassiness which suddenly appeared in her eyes.
The kiss was so close.
I can taste her. I ache for her.
I turn at a knock on my door.
It’s Alex, looking confident in his suit, a big grin on his face.
“We’re heading down for some breakfast. You hungry?”
I promised myself I wouldn’t be a grumpy asshole on Alex’s wedding day.
Forcing a smile – or as close as I can get – I nod. “Definitely. How you feeling?”
He answers as I grab my room key and lock up.
“I feel great,” he tells me as we walk down the corridor together. “People talk about jitters, nerves, all that stuff. But I don’t feel any of that. I’m just excited. That’s a good sign, right?”
“I’m sure it is,” I reply. “I know I have a hard time showing it, but I’m happy for you.”
He pauses, turning to me, his eyes glassy. For a second, I think he might cry. “Thanks, Ben.”
I reach over, clapping him on the shoulder, telling myself this isn’t guilt.
We didn’t do anything.
We just almost did.
“All right, come on,” I say. “Let’s eat until we puke and then get this done.”