♥️"If this isn't love then I don't think I'll ever fall."♥️
Lily is a young adult with a few disastrous secrets. First, her dark past and the accompanying anxiety formed from the trauma of her past relationship she can't seem to forget, no matter h...
"-I'll take care of you. -It's rotten work. -not to me. Not if it's you."
~The wedding~
I groan when I open the envelope.
Your presence is requested at the marriage of: Lewis William Hopkins & Claire Mae Gilligan
Fuck. I knew this was coming but I was dreading having to go. I read on, noticing that the invitation does include one saving grace: a plus one. Thank god. I whip my phone out and quickly message the group chat.
@Elaine can you come with?
I attach an image of the invitation and a despair emoji and send it out. I continue gazing in disgust at the invitation, covered in leafy drawings, until my phone beeps.
Ohhh sorry I can't! That's the same day as my internship starts! Sorry!
She leaves about fifty crying faces and I forgive her, still panicking about who I can bring to keep me sane and calm.
@Archer you available, bro? Oof, you're on your own for this one. Even if I could I'm not going to Lewis's wedding, I mean come on. Why are you even going?
I curse my stupid brother. I'm busy knocking my head against the wall repeatedly when my phone beeps again. I roll my eyes, expecting more shit from my brother but I see it's Liam. My breath hitches and my heart rate picks up, no matter how much I will it to be calm.
Sounds like fun, I'm in ;).
Fuck, I think for the second time today. I tell myself to stay calm and politely text back.
No, it's okay you don't have to, I'll go by myself.
That should do it.
Nah, don't worry it'll be fun, I want to come.
Okay, guess not. Half of me is screaming from excitement and fluttering and the other half is screaming panic and sirens. He's my best friend's brother. That means off limits. No excuses, I tell my swooping stomach sternly. It doesn't listen. Typical.
I'll pick you up at 5.
It's not a date, it's not a date, it's not a date. I mean, it's not. I give up and slam my phone down on the couch, maybe a little too hard. I meekly turn it over and type up a reply.
Sounds great, thanks. See you.
I groan inwardly and stomp upstairs to rifle through my closet and find something suitable to wear.
At five o'clock on the day of the wedding I'm slicking on a final coat of lipstick in the mirror and grabbing my keys to shove in my clutch. Liam texts, telling me he's five minutes out and I reply with a smiley face, grimacing ironically as I hit send. I look up from the phone and check my reflection one more time to make sure I look okay. I'm in a pale pink, silk prom-type dress, perfect for the outdoor spring wedding. My hair is curled and pulled back, a few ringlets left freely in front of my face. My favorite nude strappy heels are tied around my ankles and my french manicure is gripping my matching pink silk clutch too tightly. My makeup is pink to match my dress and I twirl around, admiring the open back with the criss-cross pattern that sealed the deal in the store.
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