I ignored him, keeping my head forward, a fake smile plastered on my face as we stood outside the chapel. The hot sun glared down at us, the birds sang, and I wanted to do nothing but jump back on the plane, go home and read something. My brother, French, had caught me trying to slip a small novel into the purse I was being forced to carry and snatched it away, ignoring the murderous look that I had given him.
And now, here I was, forced to march down an aisle; beside my ex-boyfriend of all people.
"Mona. Mona Mona. Momo. Mona Lisa Ophelia--"
"What Christian?" I snapped.
"Pull my finger." He said in a gleeful tone.
I whipped my head around to glare at him so fast that the curls piled precariously atop my head nearly tumbled down.
"You heard me. Pull my finger." He said, a huge grin on his face.
This was the reason we had broken up.
Not because Chris had spent my birthday watching the entire second season of Spongebob while I waited for him in an Applebee's for three hours.
Not because he could trip over air and injure those around him.
Not even because he had dyed his hair blue.
No, it was because he was so immature.
When we fought and I accused him of this, he would simply shrug his shoulders and say, "Guilty as charged." He wouldn't fight with me. He would do the most idiotic things.
He was just...infuriating me. Yes, that was the word. Infuriating.
"No." I said, annoyed beyond reason. Chris seemed to have the ability to get me that way in mere seconds.
"Why not?" He whined.
"Christian," I said in a low, threatening tone. "Turn around, and leave me alone. Now."
"Just pull it, Mona. You know you want to. The suspense of what I'm going to do will kill you."
"Not if my blood pressure doesn't first," I muttered.I looked down at his dress shoes and nearly groaned. "Chris, please tie your shoelaces!"
He looked down and frowned at his shoes. "They were tied, I swear." He looked up, shrugging. "Oh well."
My other older brother, French, leaned forward while my fingers flexed into a fist.
"Um, Chris?" He asked, looking afraid for Christian.
"How long did you go out with my sister?"
"Three months" I said through my teeth. "Three very, very long months."
"Right! Three months!" Chris laughed. "How could I forget? Why are you asking, French?"
"Can you list her pet peeves?"
"Well, let's see. There's sharing oxygen with me, the sun, happy people, all kinds of animals, cliques, people who laugh too loudly--"
"Which you do all of the time," his older sister, Gwen put in.
"Which I do all the time, yeah, I know. There was one more thing though..." His brow furrowed as he tapped his unlaced shoe on the ground. "What was it..."