The Only Exception | W2S

FOUR.

"Faith - oh my goodness, of course I'll still be a bridesmaid, are you kidding?!"

"Okay good because you're actually my main bridesmaid. Like maid of honour - if you'll accept, of course," she continues, looking at me expectantly, whilst all of the other girls do the same, hopeful smiles in their faces.

"I - you want me as your maid of honour?"

She nods again, still waiting for an answer.

"Yeah - yes, if you want me, I'm there," I tell her, and she jumps up, wrapping her arms around me.

"Thank you," she whispers into my ear. "You've helped me in ways I can't even begin to thank you in recent months, and I hope I get to repay you in months to come," she finishes quietly, before pulling away from our hug.

"God, I'm going to start crying again," Talia wails, causing all of us to laugh, and form a group hug together.

FRIDAY.

"I am stressed. My hair isn't drying properly, and I don't even think my makeup looks good. And the speech - oh my god, the speech. I am terrified. What if they hate it -"

"- I feel like you are overthinking things, Holly," Arthur replies to me in quick succession, walking into my eye-line dressed up in a suit. Across the room, George is also in a black suit, both of them looking very formal.

The dress code for the wedding was black tie for the men, and gold dresses for the women.

"Of course I'm overthinking it. I had under a week to write a speech for my best friend's wedding, and I have to read it out in front of all their nearest and dearest. Is that not a good reason to overthink?"

"I suppose in the grand scheme of things, sure -" Arthur starts, but George races over, glaring at Arthur, and giving me a look that I feel would come from an older brother if I had one.

"You are going to be fine. And Arthur is never going to give you advice again. But let's get going - you need to be there early, and there's no point us travelling separately," he says gently, prompting me to gather my things to take with us.

Scrunched tightly in my hand are pieces of paper with my notes written on them. I'd hardly slept last night, because I kept thinking about the speech I'd written, and if it was good enough. My head told me it wasn't, and so I had started writing a new one — except it wasn't finished.

As if he knew what I was thinking about, George gently released my fist, taking the paper into his own hands. "We'll sort it in the taxi. But we do need to go because the traffic is going to be hell and it's already a thirty minute drive. C'mon Holly, Arthur, let's go."

Following him out, my phone buzzes, and it's a notification from Instagram. More specifically, it's Harry private messaging me.

Direct message from @wroetoshaw:

Have you finished writing your speech yet???

no!!! i am STRESSED

Okay good
Not that you're stressed
But that you haven't finished
Because neither have I

that doesn't make me feel better in the slightest actually

Well I was thinking when we get there we can just compare notes

i can't copy your fucking speech!!

That's not what I meant Holly
I meant we can help each other. Fresh set of eyes and that

hmmmm okay that could work
here i'll give you my number just let me know when you get there. we should be about half an hour ish if traffic is okay