Unintentionally Falling

chapter fifty part-two

Iris

We are officially wedding crashers. Well, technically engagement party crashers but it's almost the same thing, right?

I can definitely cross this shit off my metaphorical bucket list of experiences. What are the odds we landed here? Aaron wanted to leave out of respect but I couldn't let that happen. This is borderline movie-type of shit to be here.

Maybe it's a little rude of us to stay, but listen shouldn't there have been a guest list? They were slagging on security, so it was almost inevitable that they were some stragglers let in.

Plus, we're still celebrating their engagement!

I'll raise a glass to Indigo and Brock, I'm fucking joyful for them. I could even bet there are one or two people here that secretly don't want them to even be together. But I do, so automatically I kind of deserve that invitation because I'm celebrating their happiness.

Also Brock and Indigo clearly have some dough to spend because the bar is free with unlimited drinks. I order myself a pina colada sans alcohol 'cause your girl doesn't want to get too tipsy at the end of the night.

I want to be able to remember it. I want to be able to remember all of it.

Like for example, the exit outside the gala with Aaron and me. Under the stars, with no one else around, touching me in a place where I don't want anyone to touch me other than him. I squeeze my thighs together involuntarily at the memory, and heat bubbles in my stomach.

I glance over at Aaron who's currently loading my plate full of food. A hint of a smile plays on my lips, he knows me too well.

The bartender hands me my virgin pina colada, and I'll admit it's good but the bartender at the Gala knew how to mix a drink like it's their first language.

"Is that drink any good?"

My head snaps over to a middle-aged man who takes a seat beside me. He's got peppery blond and grey hair. He's got to be in his forties, he's got a few wrinkles here and there but otherwise nothing too noticeable.

Maybe I shouldn't judge him over just one sentence but there's something off about the dude. He chooses to speak to a girl that looks like she could be his daughter instead of the gorgeous seasoned woman around him.

"It's good." I monotonically respond, taking a sip of my drink.

His eyes glaze over my body, and his eyes seem to take a particularly fond liking to my chest. I roll my eyes in disgust. I think I was right about him. These types of dudes are never subtle, are they?

"How do you know Mr. & Ms. Brock Stark?" His voice is smarmy and rough.

I always hated when people said that. Just say they're getting married, she's not taking his first name. She's still a person, she's not just his wife. Say her name. Marriage takes two.

Maybe I'm being overly sensitive but fuck it I'm allowed to have an opinion. Then I register what he's asking. I pause for a moment before answering, "Second cousin, three times removed."

He guffaws, "Hilarious. I didn't know a woman could be this funny."

Kill me now. So insufferable.

"And I didn't know old geezer's like you could hear clearly, but hey, we learn something new every day." I sent a sweet smile that even a blind person could see. My smile is nothing but bullshit.

"Feisty, I like it," He bites his lips, and his eyes fall onto my chest once more, "So what's your name."

What kind of signals does he think I'm sending him? This is not some skewed enemies-to-lovers romance where I fall in love with a piece of shit that sees me as a piece of meat.