Page 88 of Bridesmaid for Hire
Terrified because I shouldn’t be this in tune with the man.
I shouldn’t be able to communicate without having to say a word.
We’re best at fighting, but this…this we’re good at, which makes it that much scarier. I shouldn’t mesh with him. We shouldn’t be this good together.
And yet, we are.
Maggie:Are you awake?
I sit at a high-top table wearing one of my short cocktail dresses that I’d packed to garner the attention of a man in a Speedo. Instead, I’m wearing it with Brody because I had nothing else to wear to dinner tonight.
We considered ordering in, but then both decided we could use a drink. Brody more than me. He’s currently at the Lanai Bar, stuck talking to Beatrice about God knows what as he waits for our drinks. Meanwhile, I grab us a seat outside of the bar under a beautifully thatched roof surrounded by tiki torches, hoping that Hattie is awake, but when I don’t get a response and Brody is headed my way, drinks in hand, I stuff my phone in my purse.
When he hands me my drink, I say, “Thank you,” before taking a very large sip. “Oh fuck, that’s not mixed,” I say, the burn flowing down my throat feeling like a dragon’s fire.
“I think the bartender was heavy-handed tonight,” he says as he stirs his drink along with me.
“What did you get?” I ask, eyeing our similarly mixed drinks. Usually, he drinks beer. Looks like he’s looking for something much stronger after the snake encounter. In his position, I’d probably be looking for the same kind of alcohol potency, but I’d be double-fisting.
“Same as you. Mai tai. Seemed like the strongest thing that I could stomach.”
“Is it going to mix poorly with your painkillers?”
He tilts his head in disdain. “You know I’m not on painkillers.”
I smirk. “Okay, but…when can we talk about the snake incident without you getting mad? Because there’s a lot I want to unpack, but I also know that you’re sensitive at the moment and I don’t want to be insensitive, so if you can just give me a heads-up—”
“Too soon.”
“Damn it. Okay. Fair. It did happen a few hours ago, that’s fine. But you need to promise me that when you can laugh it off, we’ll have a postmortem. There are so many questions I need to ask you.”
“It will probably be never, so swallow the questions.”
I sigh, but I’m not too worried—I guarantee he’ll want to talk about it at some point. Laugh about it. Discuss how feral his screams were right before passing out.
We both sip our drinks, and after a few seconds of silence, I ask, “What were you talking to Beatrice about?”
“She asked how the hike was. I skipped out on the snake part and told her about the titi sticks. She said she was shocked that you and I were so great at it since apparently, we look like the worst couple here.”
“She said that?” I ask, feeling defensive. Sure, we’re not an actual couple, but she doesn’t have to be so freaking rude about it.
“Not in those exact words, but her reaction—her surprise to the news basically said that.”
“Well, she should save her judgment. I saw her run into a pole earlier this week because she wasn’t paying attention, so she’s one to talk about coordination.”
“Didn’t catch that on camera for me?”
“Unfortunately, no.” I pause for a moment and then ask, “Did you think it was weird that we were so good at the tossing of the titis?”
He sips his mai tai and then slowly nods. “It was a little disturbing. At some point, my brain turned off what we were doing, it became all muscle memory, and I started wondering,why are we doing this so well?”
“I did the same thing. It almost felt like there was a master puppeteer moving our arms. Kind of an out-of-body experience. I got into the rhythm and just went with it.”
“Same,” he says.
“Should we be concerned about that?” I ask.
“Only if you want to dissect it,” he answers. “Which, I don’t think there’s anything to dissect.”
