Wrong Profile [On Break]

Prologue

Neil's POV

Weddings? Cliché, right?

Hold on-don't get misty-eyed on me. If you're one of those emotional snobs, maybe you're not worthy of my story. Classic me, sorry.

Anyway, here I am. At a wedding.

Before you judge: I don't come for the vows, I come for the free feast and day drinking. (Assuming they serve.)

The bride? My ex-girlfriend.

And before you gasp, relax-I'm happy for her. Really.

Happy for myself.

The poor guy she's marrying though? That's another story. I almost feel bad for him. Almost.

Why did she invite me? No clue. Maybe she thought I wouldn't show up. But who says no to church weddings? Hallelujah, baby.

Besides, I like day weddings.

Nights are for... other things.

Natasha.

I met her on Tinder. We swiped, matched, dined until we were fine.

But she underestimated me.

I loved her.

Yeah, yeah, I can hear you all wondering. Don't worry, I wonder too.

"Sorry, Jesus, I'm not a believer. But amen."

That's what I muttered, sitting across the bench, waiting.

I showed up.

Now I want to see her reaction.

She finally appeared in that sleek white gown.

God knows how many stores she tortured to find it.

I remember her being so damn Snoopy.

"Babe, check me out. This outfit is so good."

And me? Classic line: "Everything looks good on my baby."

Yeah, yeah, I know. Old trick. But it works-especially if you're aiming to get laid.

Then my eyes caught one of her bridesmaids.

Why the hell did she look familiar?

She winked at me. So cheeky.

Of course, I winked back.

And then-boom. Natasha, the bride, looked right at me.

Her happy smile froze, like she'd seen a ghost.

Meanwhile, I just smiled back. Cheeky, shameless.

Because really-how dare she call me to her wedding?

Suddenly, time slowed.

Not literally-just that stupid cinematic slow-mo as she reached the altar.

It was fine. Totally fine.

So why the hell was I getting emotional?

Most of my memories of her were... in bed.

Sorry, Lord, I already know I'm a sinner.

She used to call me "Big Daddy."

Yeah. That's my only emotional souvenir.

I pretended to wipe my tears.

For the crowd. For the drama. Maybe for myself.

She kept sneaking glances during the rituals.

I kept smiling-just enough to annoy her.