Mint [H.S.]

26

"Here."

Sticking my hands out, I stop him. "Nah, it's yours... hate bourbon." Ben nodded, slipping the flask into the inside pocket of his deep navy suit.

He chuckled, "Like Dad. Forgot you two were alike. Strange, init? Don't see the guy since we were youngins but can still share the same taste in alcohol as the bloke." Ben shakes his head, a dazed look in his eyes. With a long sigh, he slumps his shoulders. "Don't get it."

"Better than gin."

"Mark likes gin."

I quirk my brow in response, proving my point that whiskey was a much better choice than gin. Anything was better than whatever that prick liked.

"Still hate the guy," questioned Ben. He cracked his fingers, stretching his hands out... shaking every inch of his nerves away. I don't say much, a half hearted shrug is all it takes for Ben to drop the subject. Eighteen years was enough time to build up a distaste for someone. It would take a lot for me to not feel this way about him. The chances of that happening were slim to none. There was no way around it.

There's a knock on the door. We all stare at it, unsure of who it could be and what to do. Nobody makes the first move to answer the door, leaving the photographer to let out a sigh and answer it himself.

I'm surprised to see who stands on the other side of the door. I had been expecting it to be Mark, but was weirdly relieved to see that it wasn't but instead Dylan.

He stands on the other side of the opened door. His body half leaning on the threshold, his hands stuffed into the depths of his black suit pockets. He gazes over the room before he spots both Ben and I. He nods, mostly to himself, before moving around the photographer and over towards us.

"Now then, ready to get yourself a wife?" He greets Ben, pulling him in for a hug. Smiling - the first real smile of the day (one free of that fucking nervous twitch he'd developed over the past morning), he nods.

"Buzzin'... a bit nervous though. It's all real after this," Ben replied.

Dylan put his hand on Ben's shoulder, squeezing it tight, "It'll be alright. Don't worry 'bout it. If you love her - that's what matters. Bein' married is a great thing. Loved it so much myself that I did it twice," he jokes, awkwardly chuckling afterwards.

I hold back my snarky remark, not wanting to make any trouble. Again, a promise I had made to Izzy earlier in the day.

"Hopefully I only have to do it once," snickered Ben. "Jaz is a handful but the good kind. Can't see myself with anyone else."

"Ah - I met her earlier with your mum. She seems like a great girl. Maddie's taken quite a liking to her already... but she wont stop asking about your girl, Harry. Assuming that she is now..." his voice trailed off, his lips quirked into a smirk.

Ben turns his head to face me. Both of his brows lifted in surprised, "You and Izzy -"

I shrugged, "On the mend... still a lot of shit to figure out, but she's my girl. That's all I need."

"You fucked," stated Ben, barking out a laugh. "On the mend... bullshit. You two left the party last night so quickly... I should have pieced it all together."

I don't say anything. I didn't need to. It wasn't any of their business and I wasn't in the business of making it theirs. I was also highly aware that Chase was in the room. His ears probably perked and ready.

The wedding planner walked back in before either Ben or Dylan could make another snarky remark. I could see it in Ben's eyes, the words that he wanted to say to take the piss out of the situation. I was relieved that it was finally time to get this wedding going.