Champagne Flutes | ✓

chapter 1: g r i n c h

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  With another sip of my half-empty glass of champagne, I sighed again, then continued watching the wedding reception from afar. I was already familiar with the same, I'm-happy-for-them-but-not-so-happy-myself-because-I'm-alone-again-as-usual feeling that I always felt during weddings.

  I've planned weddings, designed wedding gowns, took wedding photos, played in a wedding band, heck, I even volunteered as a proxy for the maid of honor just because she'd caught a horrible flu two days before her cousin's wedding. In my opinion, I was sort of a one-woman band when it came to weddings.

  And believe me, I'd feel genuinely happy for newlyweds and totally honored to be a part of their cherished moments every time I'd be at their wedding or wedding reception, but most of the time, I'd feel just as lonely.

  "You look like The Grinch on Christmas Eve, Vi."

  I looked up to see Elliot, his head slightly tilted to the side. Even under all the dim lights, he looked extremely handsome and perfect in his black and white tuxedo, his bronze hair slicked back, his brown eyes filled with worry as he stared down at me.

  "Hello to you, too, El," I tried as hard as I could to flash him a small smile. But still, the worried look on his face didn't falter.

  "You okay?" he asked, taking a step closer to my table.

  "Of course I am," I said quickly and looked away from his scrutiny. Even after all these years, he could still see through me. Goddâmmit.

  "Whoa, easy there, Janet The Second," he chuckled, teasing me with that stupid nickname he'd given me way back in high school.

  Janet was the name of the scary rottweiler my then-neighbor Butch—who was just as equally large and scary as his dog—and he called me Janet The Second whenever he was in the mood to piss me off or whenever he wanted to spite me, just for the heck of it.

  Yes, he was that type of āsshole, girlies.

  I rolled my eyes. "You're lucky I'm extra nice tonight 'cause it's your wedding."

  With that, Elliot laughed. "Still the same short-tempered Violet Channing."

  "And you're still the same annoying, idiotic, megalomaniac, Elliot Grand," I retorted, throwing daggers into his direction.

  He laughed again, shaking his head, then he said in between his laughs, "Does this mean you're gonna cancel the discount?"

  "I don't even know why Geraldine married you," I said exasperatedly, then took another sip of my champagne. Dāmn it, I knew I should've taken two more glasses when a waiter passed by ten minutes ago. "And no, I'm not gonna cancel it. I'm not as bītchy as before. I've got a good side, too, you āsshat."

  "I know," he said wistfully, and when my eyes met his, I instantly wished I didn't look up at him again. Just looking at him made my insides churn over and over, my chest tightening, my heart shattering into pieces all over again.

  "Come on," he declared, holding out his hand and offering a kind smile, "dance with me, Violet. Please?" How could I resist such a tempting offer? It had been several months since we had last seen and heard from each other, and since he's one of my closest friends ever, who the heck was I to say no when all he's asking for was just one dance?

  But still, a strange mixture of guilt and longing crept up inside me, slowly eating me alive. I looked around frantically, my eyes anxiously searching for his beautiful bride.

  Dāmn, I couldn't find Geraldine anywhere in the crowd. Where the hell was she? Her groom's here at my table, asking me to slow dance with him, when he was supposed to be with his wife.

  What the hell was Elliot thinking? Thankfully, Geraldine and I were already starting to get along, but why was he trying to ruin his own wedding?

  And to make things worse, Elliot was still in front of me, smiling shyly, that same, dimpled smile that had made me fall for him years ago.

  I tried again to look for Geraldine. Tried to ignore the butterflies. Tried to breathe slowly, evenly. Tried to chew on the insides of my cheeks and hold back the tears threatening to stream down my face.

  "It's just one dance, Vi," he pleaded, and in that same moment, I felt every nerve, every vein, every atom, every dāmn thing inside me, the very ones that tried so fūcking hard to hold on to what's left of my rational thinking, collapse and disintegrate as I placed my hands on his.

  "B-But... Geraldine..." I stammered helplessly, nervous of the situation we were currently in. Knowing his wife, she wouldn't want to see her dear husband slow-dancing with his ex-girlfriend at their wedding reception.

  "Relax. She knows where I am and what I'm doing," Elliot said reassuringly and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "Don't be so stressed, Vi. I talked to Geraldine before going to your table. She's totally cool with it."

  He flashed me another smile, intertwined his fingers with mine, and pulled me out of my seat, dragging me to the throng of people on the dance floor.