twenty-seven ~ wedding

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twenty-seven ~ wedding

**Dedicated to callingallmonsters for the great banner!**

"What does one wear to a wedding?"

When I opened the front door on Wednesday morning to see Brent standing there, needless to say I was surprised. Unusually, he was wearing a top—evidently my mum had made a real impression on him that first time he'd visited—but he wasted no time in getting straight to the point. 

"One wears one's best attire, of course," I replied formally, leaning against the doorway frame with an amused smile. 

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Are you mocking me?"

"Are you mocking me?" I shot back. "I don't talk like that, you know, and you don't have to, either."

"Well, forgive me if this is a little outside of my comfort zone, Rosalie," he murmured, folding his arms, unimpressed. "But I don't want to make a fool out of myself and I doubt you'd appreciate that, either."

I sighed and dropped the attitude. Beneath his hard exterior, I could tell Brent was genuinely nervous about this wedding. I didn't blame him; if I was in his position, I'd be nervous, too. It was fear of the unknown, mixed with fear of being judged. Thanks to my mother, he'd already had a taste of the latter. 

"Do you own a suit?" I asked him. 

"Yes," was his short reply. 

"A suit will be fine," I assured him. 

He scratched at the back of his neck, displaying an uncharacteristic bout of discomfort, before clearing his throat. 

"Do we have to, you know, colour co-ordinate?"

I couldn't help but smile, and hoped he realised it was one of affection rather than mockery. Though he'd hate to admit it, it was an incredibly sensitive thing to think about. 

"Do you own many ties?" I asked him. 

For some reason, I couldn't imagine Brent owning lots of formal wear. He spent most of his days on the beach, so what cause would he have to wear suits?

"Well, not particularly," he admitted, "but I can easily buy one."

I shook my head. "No need. I don't want you going out of your way. I can just pick a dress that matches your tie and, if I don't have one, then I really don't think it'll matter."

"I've got a blue one, a black one, and like a greenish coloured one..."

His level of awkwardness wasn't easing and I almost felt bad for him. This really was pushing him outside his comfort zone. Despite that, though, it was showing that he did want to make an effort for me. He was holding up his end of the agreement, and I just needed to do the same for mine. 

"Okay, well, not to make this any more difficult for you," I said slowly, "but I might need a bit more to go on. Is it navy blue? Royal blue? Duck egg blue? And the green, is that like a mint shade or a teal or—"

"Rosalie, you lost me at eggs."

"You know what might be easier?" I decided, stepping aside to gesture for him to come through the door. "We'll look at my dresses and you can pick one that's the same colour as your tie."

Hesitation flooded his features but he didn't argue. It was almost disconcerting to see him so misplaced. No words were spoken as I led him up to my room, our footsteps echoing loudly on the marble of the staircase. Until we were actually there, however, I didn't realise how intimate it suddenly felt. I imagined it would have been the same for Brent when he let me into his hut that first time—an imposition on his private, personal area. This might not be my real bedroom, but it had begun to feel that way over the weeks...not to mention the huge double bed that dominated the room and had featured in so many of my fantasies recently. Now Brent was standing in my room, in the flesh, for real. 

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