Page 58 of The Great Dating Fake Off
Panicked, I take a swig. One won’t kill me. “Share the wealth.”
They break out into cheers for me. All except Nora, who’s busy procuring bar napkins to wipe her chest.
Everyone resumes competing for the Most Drunk Human award, where the points don’t matter and nobody wins.
I resume keeping my eyes off the off-limits woman who has thoroughly gotten under my skin.
…
At last call, Nora and I take one of Benji’s arms each and hoist them over our shoulders. I don’t need her help, but I let her do it anyway.
“You’re going to regret mixing your liquors tomorrow, boyfriend,” Nora informs him. “Long Island Iced Teas are hangovers in a glass.”
“Nah. You know, this wedding isn’t so bad.” Benji looks at Nora. “Thanks for forcing me to come. You’re a good friend.”
Nora grins as we push through the double doors into the unseasonably warm night. The air is humid and smells like rain. “I’m going to quote you on that.”
“And Sebastian”—his almost black eyes meet mine—“you’re A-okay in my book.”
“Thanks, man.” Nora and I lead him toward the back of the parking lot. “Same to you.”
“If you ever want to play Risk or something, Nora and I have a weekly game night. Usually lasts about four hours.”
Nora lets out a nervous titter of a laugh. “He’s moving soon after we get back, Benji. I’m sure he doesn’t want to waste his time playing a long board game with us.”
I catch her eye as fireflies strobe in the dark woods behind her. “I don’t?”
She gets that deer-in-the-headlights look, and I regret saying it. It’s not a good idea to spend more time with her when I’m struggling to keep my interest platonic.
A slap on the back of my head disrupts the moment at a perfect time. It also stings.
“It’s a love slap,” Enzo slurs. He puts one clumsy foot in front of the other as he trails behind us. His nose is Rudolph red, just like Alessia’s gets when she’s had too much. He squints one eye as if to bring me into focus. “Thanks for coming this week. Miss hanging out with you, brother.”
The feeling is mutual. I can’t remember the last time we’ve really spent time together. Sure, he’s been busy with a secret relationship, but when will we get this time again?
I wish there was more of it—time and opportunity. But I push the thought aside and focus on my current task before I let those thoughts catch hold.
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than your wedding. Now come here before you eat gravel.” I drag him into our human red-rover chain. He leans on me for support, which means we’re now three large men and Nora.
Gia and Ro dart past us like two drunk roombas zigzagging to home base. Alessia tries to keep up with them, hands lifted like she’s going to catch them when they inevitably fall.
Ro’s singing is indistinguishable. Could be a country song. Could be the contents of her grocery list.
“That’s my girl,” Enzo says, but it sounds like one word. Thasmygirl.
It’s nice to see him so damn happy. Him and Alessia both. “Happy for you, bud.”
“Me too. I’m a lucky motherfucker.”
“I’m glad my sister found you,” Benji adds.
I get the sense that for him, this is a glowing endorsement.
We reach our parking spot. I unlock my car with the click of a button. “All right men, you’re with me.”
Alessia shoots finger guns at a Ford Explorer SUV parked three spaces away. “And everyone who likes me better than Sebastian, let’s roll.”
We break into the two vehicles. At the fifteen-minute mark of our drive home, the boisterous troops lose steam. Enzo passes out with his mouth wide open. Benji starts to complain of motion sickness, so I have to slow down on the mountain turns. A thirty-minute drive becomes a forty-five minute drive, and everyone is miserably restless or nauseous by the time we pull up to The Foxfire Lodge.
