My friends almost lost their mind when I told them that Donovan was coming to the wedding with me.
The weekend was going to be weird enough for me so I might as well try out this new tentative friendship of ours. Maybe it was because we were trying to pick up where we left off, but it felt different from last time. I don't remember ever being this nervous to see him when we were younger. I also don't remember the fluttering in my stomach whenever I saw him either. But, I suppose
I had to chalk it up to nerves.
He still had practice on Friday so we were leaving as soon as they finished. I was sitting in the parking lot next to the practice field tapping my thumbs against the steering wheel as I waited. I showed up thirty minutes before he told me to because I was driving myself and my roommates crazy pacing our apartment.
There were productive things I could've been doing while I was waiting, but I did none of them. Instead, I made an itemized list in my head of the worst things that could happen this weekend. It was extensive. And thorough. The bottom of the list was food poisoning while the top of the list was somewhere along the lines of a atmospheric catastrophe.
After about fifteen more minutes of doomsday planning, I decided that my anxiety needed a bigger space than my car so I got outside and tried to walk some of it off. Ten minutes and probably fifty miles of pacing later, a wet-haired and freshly showered Donovan finally appeared by the gate with a duffel bag. However, he wasn't alone.
A man in a tailored suit and another man with a camera on his shoulder were walking next to Donovan on his way to the parking lot. I stood on the sidewalk next to my car and watched as they approached, but I could only catch the tail end of the interview.
"—break more records before the playoffs?"
Donovan shook his head, both at the interviewer and the camera. "Whatever happens happens, Matt. It would be great to break another record, but the team and I are focused on the playoffs right now. Anything else is sort of just icing on the cake."
The interviewer nodded his head, eating up every single word that he said. I leaned against the hood of my car, not even bothering to pretend that I wasn't listening. Donovan glanced over at me and gave me an apologetic smile, but I was grinning. How often was a friend that I knew interviewed for national news? Never.
"Naturally. You seem like a focused kid, Starr. Now what exactly are you doing to prepare for the behemoths you face in next week's match-up?"
"I'm going to a wedding," Donovan winked at me, "and I'm actually going to be late, but thanks so much for your time."
He shook his hand out for the interviewer to shake who seemed a little taken aback by his politeness. The cameraman took the camera off his shoulder as Donovan reached out to shake his hand as well. The two other men seemed to finally notice me as their interview subject waved at me.
"Girlfriend?" Matt asked, amused as the camera man tucked away the camera.
I flushed, standing up off of my hood and giving them an awkward wave while starting to shake my head.
"Not yet," Donovan said.
Now my face was absolutely on fire. He bid the two men a polite farewell before joining me at my car. I could do nothing but stare at him as he threw his duffel in my backseat. Even when we were both sitting in the car, I didn't make a single move to turn the key or pull out of the parking lot.
"You want to get there by tonight right, Fish?"
"Um, yes?"
Why did it sound like a question?
"Then we should probably leave."
He was so at ease, leaning back in the seat and seeing absolutely no reason for me to be weirded out. Teasing. That's what it was. He was teasing me and joking around with them because that was crazy. Girlfriend? We were just starting to be friends again.
Not yet. Not YET. Not. Yet.
We were going to a wedding together, so maybe the line was blurring a little bit but that doesn't mean that—
"Fish?" He leaned over and knocked on my temple. "You home?"
I swatted his hand away. "Stop that! Yes. Okay, fine let's go."
***
Three hours and countless Taylor Swift songs later, we arrived at my dad's new lake house. Or, at least, his new wife's house.
We were greeted by a smattering of my relatives on my dad's side. Donovan stood dutifully by my side during every hug and all the vaguely inappropriate comments that sprang up at our arrival. My paternal grandma, at the ripe age of 72, still remembered Donovan from when I used to drag him to other family events. Grammy barely let him escape with his life, but fortunately he was saved by Marcus.
"Follow me," my little brother said, practically peeling Grammy off of the quarterback, "I'll show you where you guys are sleeping."
As we followed him up to the house, I had to admire the property. A large cabin-like home with huge paneled windows that looked out onto a quiet part of the lake. Wendy and my dad had covered the place in purple flowers. The sweet smell wafted through the halls as Marcus led us through the modern interior, a stark contrast from the cabin exterior.
"Here you go," Marcus gestured to the door in front of him. I blanched.
"Marc, we've got two rooms right? He and I are not— we're not... I mean—"
My little brother shrugged, clearly not concerned by my rambling. Donovan merely looked amused. Seriously? One bed? Here I was thinking the wedding wouldn't be cliché. Silly me.
"Two of dad's college friends were able to make it last minute so they took the other extra room. It's either you and Donovan or me and you or me and—"
I glared at Marcus, but he seemed unfazed and continued.
"You can sleep with me I don't really care," Marcus said to Donovan. "But this one's a king and mine's a double so..."
They were both over 6 feet tall. As entertaining as it would be to watch them try and share, neither one would get any sleep. Donovan was about to agree, but I shook my head.
"It's fine," I said, even though I'm pretty sure it was the opposite. "We'll be fine here."
Not yet. Not. Yet. The words rang again inside my head.
Both of them turned to look at me, one hiding his shock better than the other. I brushed past the two of them into the room and sure enough, there it was in the middle of the room mocking me. One bed.
Thinking about sharing a hallway right now with Donovan made my stomach flip and my hands clammy. The thought of sharing a bed with him... I needed a drink. Turning back toward the door, I saw Donovan slipping back down the hallway we just came from.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
He glanced back at me over his shoulder. "To look for some alcohol."
"I thought you didn't drink?"
"Figured you might need some in your system if you're gonna deal with me all night."
With one last grin, he bounded down the stairs in search of the one thing I was thinking about. The bed was soft and it was big, but I knew I wouldn't sleep a single second. Not when my stomach reacted to his smile like that. Can't imagine what it would do when he was only... nevermind.
Ignoring and suppressing that line of thought, I fixed myself up a little bit more before heading downstairs. The wedding was tomorrow but it still felt like the house was full of guests and everyone was already bustling with excitement.
My dad and his fiancée were standing in the center of the room, chatting with all of their guests. Wendy seemed lovely. After looking around her house for about an hour, she also seemed rich. He seemed to really care about her, but were people capable of changing that much?
My glance shifted to the open bar set up for tonight's pre-wedding crowd. If I saw my dad there, then I would know that: no, people don't really change.
"Josie?" A deep voice came from behind me and I turned. "Jesus, it is you."
"Jeremiah?"
What the hell was my high school ex-boyfriend doing at my dad's wedding? The last time I saw him was when we met for coffee during my impromptu visit home with Donovan.
Jeremiah grinned, flashing a perfectly white smile. He pulled me in for a polite hug, the scent of his cologne was thick around me. Golden blonde curls brushed against the top of my head and I resisted the urge to fix my hair the moment he pulled away.
On paper, Jeremiah was my exact type. Tall, blonde, tanned, looked like he could have been on a surfing commercial. He even looked a little bit like Hayden, and maybe that's why I pulled back a little faster than I normally would from a hug.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, genuinely surprised and pleased to see him here. It would be nice to have at least one other person I could talk to about things other than grad school and why I wasn't engaged yet.
"Wendy is a really good family friend. My mom and her go way back."
"Oh. Cool! What do you—" I began, but Jeremiah cut me off.
"Is that Donovan Starr?"
Typical.
Glancing over my shoulder in the direction that Jeremiah was staring. Sure enough, there he was. Holding two drinks in his hand and heading straight for us. He handed me the alcoholic one before he noticed Jeremiah standing, slightly awe struck, beside me.
They greeted each other with one of those bro-hug things and I had a mini flashback of high school. Donovan and Jeremiah played football together so they knew each other before Jeremiah and I started dating. Again, like a broken record, Winston's words echoed in my head.
You dated his friends like it was nothing.
Winston made it sound like there was a parade of them—there wasn't— but, Jeremiah was one of them.
"Are you guys here together?" he asked.
I glanced up at Donovan quickly, before he could sense my stare. He opened his mouth to reply in the negative, but I interjected.
"Yes," I said, "well, sort of. I wasn't sure I was going to come, but Donovan was nice enough to keep me company."
Jeremiah arched a sandy colored brow, looking between the two of us. It might have been my imagination, but I swore I saw Donovan inch closer to me. He hadn't seem displeased at my response, but I think it surprised him.
Blue eyes burned the side of my face, but I refused to look at them. Instead, the eyes of my ex boyfriend softened as he glanced between the two of us with an unfamiliar expression. The kind of expression you gave to a small child when they solved a complicated puzzle or drew within the lines of a painting.
Jeremiah sighed.
"Fucking finally," he breathed.
___________
Hi!!!!
I'm happy y'all seem to like this story— was just a side project but now I'm having so much fun reading what you all have to say!
Thanks for reading!!
Stay safe and be kind, my friends.