Lie A Little Better, Honey

Lie #2:The Past is in the Past

I want to dedicate this chapter to miguelito_ but sadly he will never know because he deactivated his account. It saddens me to see it like this because I really looked up to him. He was the first one who told me that my writing style was different and I was happy with that. I wish many readers would comment and show their love in the hard work we put in our stories. Sure we should write for ourselves and not aim for comments but we would be lying if we didn't say that these comments gives us courage and inspiration to go on. I won't do that though. This is the only story that I am writing because I enjoyed it. 

A very very big shoutout to my amazing editor Ambergaze for editing. Well, this isn't edited (Yet!). But I was too excited to show this off so enjoy.

 *~NF~*

    Light grey linen cloths draped over round tables for six with silver metal chairs in intricate but uncomfortable metal backrest. There are medium-sized glass statues of a woman wearing drapes while holding a bouquet of purple orchids resting in the center of every table. The chair where I am sitting is right in front of it that seems to be staring right through my soul. I had to sit sideways to avoid the empty stare of the statue. 

    Earlier, I just realized that my phone will soon run out of juice. There might be an emergency coming up sooner or later and a dead phone will not be helpful if that happens. Making my form of entertainment to watch the guests dance in the middle of the dance floor in purple lights. I never liked weddings. It is a forced merriment. Everyone with a brain can see that. After this night of magic and joy, one of the bridesmaid will get up from a stranger’s bed and regret that walk of shame back home. Trust me that what I say is accurate.

    “Ms. De Asis what are you doing sitting here?” Oh great. Now the bride is pestering me. It’s obvious that the only reason she is being this nice to me because she doesn’t want me to write bad things about her and her perfect day.

    “I’m just waiting for my partner to finish taking pictures. 

    “Aw, but it’s a party. You should enjoy yourself,” the bride insists

    “No. I’m good,” I assured her with a fake smile.

    “Don’t be such a party pooper, Ate. Dance. It’s a party,” the bride beams back at me. Geez. I wish this woman can stop pestering me. I really do not want to join the dance floor. I was supposed to just blend in to interview several people but my slim-cut grey trouser suit made it pretty sure of standing out. It was a bit laid-back for me. I was wearing an orange shirt in the blazer with folded sleeves

    How am I supposed to know that you need to wear a dress to blend in a wedding? Most clothes that I wear on my previous job was a button down jeans and rubber shoes. It’s also kind of awkward that the women who’s wearing similar clothing is the mother of the bride and she is wearing a skirt.

    “I don’t think I should dance. I don’t have a partner,” I said the first excuse that popped in my mind.

    “If that’s the problem, why not my cousin Michael?” The bride offers

    “No thanks,” I politely decline.

   “You’re right. He gets grabby,” Bride nods in agreement. “How about Bobby?” She asks again.

     “Sorry, I couldn-”

    “Jonathan then?” The bride interrupts me. This bitch is getting on my nerves. Somebody please just stop her.

    “What about Jonathan?” A man wedges in the conversation. Oh thank God! A man to the rescue me from this…Great! Now you butt in. This guy disappeared into thin air leaving me with happy-too-preggy Bridezilla over here but at least he has good timing.