Apple.
[ Basket is to ball just as women is to complicated ]
Mom was bawling silently, her tears tracing down her cheek, staining her white dress.
I couldn't really blame her; hell, I would have been, too. Except, the difference was that: Mom was a woman and I wasn't. I didn't cry on a regular basis, it wasn't part of my system. It didn't matter when or where, it just never happened.
And I was sure as hell that it wouldn't happen today.
Even if it was Zoey's wedding.
I had to admit, I felt a little twinge of jealousy as she stood in front of the altar, side-by-side with Blake, her fiancé—husband to-be—as they shared their vows and promised themselves to one another. I couldn't grasp the fact that my sister was getting married and will soon be pushing a watermelon out of her puny body and start a family.
I wanted that, too.
But not with Zoey—that was just nasty.
Or me pushing a baby out of my...wherever. That would probably be the most disturbing thing ever.
To my left, I grabbed Apple's hand, giving it a small squeeze. She titled her head before turning her eyes at me. A smile appeared on her lips and I couldn't help but to smile back. Her eyes were slightly watering, which was probably because of the wedding. Apple had seen Zoey as a second older sister since Zoey and Nicole, Apple's sister, were best friends. She intertwined her fingers with mine and kept her grip there the whole time.
It felt like she and I were together. Like a couple. And in love.
We weren't—for now—but it felt nice to seem like we were.
The whole church was filled with cheers and shouts as Blake leaned down to cup Zoey's face and kiss her. They were married. Zoey and Blake looked good together; even though they were polar opposites, they managed to work through all of those and keep it together.
Mom was probably the loudest out of everyone in there. She was cheering as though she was in a freaking concert. Well, then again, I couldn't blame her—she'd wanted grandchildren ever since Zoey introduced Blake to the parents three months into their relationship. I bet that they would make some pretty attractive babies as well. Zoey, with her petite figure was in contrast of Blake's tall, lean and wiry body. Just like Dad, Zoey had flaming red hair and Mom's blue eyes while Blake had the typical dark hair and green eyes.
Mom and Apple would usually talk about how their babies would look like. I didn't get what the hell was with girls and their obsession to other people's kids. I get that they were cute and all, but come on, they were just kids. They'd grow up and leave their cuteness and innocent behind one day and grow up to be annoying and a pain in the ass.
Children did that nowadays—the growing up. It was as though girls never actually took that in to consideration.
"Logan," Apple called out, as she linked her arm with mine. She looked stunning in her dress; hell, she always looked attractive, there wasn't a day in my life that Apple didn't look appealing in my eyes.
I gave her a smile. "What?" I asked, waving goodbye to the newlyweds.
"I want to get married, too," she uttered, turning her gaze back at the couple who were making their way towards their limo with the sign "Just Married." The photographer seemed to be having a great time, too, as he was showered with pink rose petals.
Mom butted in the conversation as she gave Apple a hug. "I'm sure you and Logan would make a great couple," she said lightly. A blush appeared on Apple's cheeks as her tendency to turn red at the smallest things became evident again.
"Mom," I hissed, running a hand through my hair. She and Gwen (Mrs. Winston)—just like many other women out there—were in love with the whole 'Falling in Love with Your Best Friend and marrying them and Living Happily Ever After' bullshit. I swear, they needed to lay off the chick flicks.
"Logan and I—we—aren't like that," Apple explained for the nth time to Mom, "We're just friends, Mrs. Fletcher."
Mom, on the other hand, was persistent and annoying when it came to these topics. She was, after all, a mother, so it wasn't as though I didn't expect it. In fact, if she somehow found a way to convince Apple that she was in love with me, I'd love my mom a millions times more than how much I already loved her.
"Nonsense!" she retorted, chuckling slightly, "You and my boy are perfect for each other!"
"Mom, we have to go—the reception, remember?" I interrupted. I didn't need help from anyone about my inexistent love life with Apple. Especially from my Mom in my sister's wedding. This was Zoey's big day, not mine.
With that, she gasped and had everyone hurry to the hall Blake and Zoey rented for their post-wedding party. It was a great relief that Mom was easily distracted. She was into the reception so much that she forgot about the topic about Apple and me and getting married.
The reception was the same as how I pictured it to be—music, dancing and a lot of alcohol. I wouldn't be surprised if Zoey and Blake left early due to my sister's inability to consume alcohol and be fine with it. I wasn't going to lie—Zoey was the only person in this world (that I knew) who could get drunk after three shots of anything. Blake, on the other hand, seemed like liquor had no effect on him.
Trust me.
We took shots before and fuck the man won with me ending up with a headache the next morning, but Blake was completely fine. Sometimes, I wondered if he wasn't human at all. But that would have been crazy. Blake was like a brother—and now, he literally was—and if he was an alien, then I'd be screwed.
I found myself out the balcony, away from the party. The summer night's crisp air was refreshing compared to the musty feeling in there. But, as I stood there alone with other couples holding hands, giggling, stealing kisses, I realized that I wanted that, too. More than ever.
I mean, Zoey was three years older than me and she and Blake met eight years ago—I should be with the girl I was going to marry. Or at least met her by now.
But I hadn't.
I was still whipped for Apple. After twenty fucking years, I was still whipped.
Sure, I had a couple of hook ups and petty relationships every now and then. But it still didn't satisfy me. I wanted Apple, but she was just out of bounds. We were friends for crying out loud—she even told Mom that. A lot.
And inside, I sometimes wished that she fucking lying. Because she and I were perfect together. As corny and clichéd as it sounded—we were. I knew deep inside that Apple and I had to be together. I wanted to spend my whole life with her and I was pretty damn sure that I wouldn't regret any of it—twenty years later and she was still full of fucking surprises.
Jesus, that was really pathetic and melodramatic, and worth all the speeches in the chick flicks Apple had made me watch.
"Bro," a voice called from behind. I didn't need to turn to know who it was. Nick stood beside me, handing me a glass of what he was drinking. "I knew I'd find you here. I need to speak with you about something."
Nick and I hardly spoke about important things. We didn't need to tell each other every little detail, and I never quite got why girls wanted to know everything for everything. It was too irrelevant most of the times to matter. But, serious talks—such as these—did happen. Rarely, but it did.
"What is it?" I asked, looking up at the sky.
Nick let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand though his blond hair. It was a bad habit of his, I noted. Nick was the kind of guy who was laid back and never let stress get out of hand—he had to, he was a freaking bank consultant. God knows how many fucking complaints he got every single day.
"It's about Jenna," he began. Jenna was his girlfriend at the moment—they've been together for three years now and they seemed to be happy with one another. I was always jealous that Nick had the guts to ask her out while I was still in the stage of trying to find my balls.
"I think I'm ready," he continued after taking a sip of his cup. "I think that I'm ready to marry her."
I almost chocked from air.
There goes another stupid marriage and a reminder that I was fucking alone.
"You're not experiencing some melodramatic shit because of the wedding, are you?" I asked.
He chuckled, shaking his head. "No, man," he muttered. "It's just—I just want to be with her and call her mine."
"You guys are together," I muttered sarcastically. Shit, when did my friend turned into some melodramatic cheesy guy? Nick always seemed to be the over confident bastard that never let anyone walk over him—he had to be the one who was on top of everyone else. No one pushed him around and I was sure as hell that marriage was the last thing on his mind.
He smiled a little. "I know," he mumbled. "But I want to have a family with her, you know? Go home after a fucking long day and be welcomed by the smell of food and maybe even a son."
I nodded. I understood what he meant—I knew what he meant long before he even met Jenna. Because every girl I was ever with just gave me more and more reason why Apple was the one for me. And it fucking sucked.
"That's a hell of a dream you got there," I commented, taking a sip of the alcohol.
Nick laughed. "Yeah," he agreed. "Didn't think that this day would come, too."
"That makes the both of us."
We stayed there in silence, watching the surroundings. It was dark, but there were lights hanging that shed enough light to light up the night. I wondered how my life would have been like if Apple never came over that day—or if she didn't cry over Mojo (bless her poor soul). I sure wouldn't be so whipped and I wouldn't feel like a fucking theatrical piece of shit.
"Am I making the right choice?" Nick asked, taking a deep breath. "Man, I'm so fucking confused. I love Jenna—I do. Fuck, I'm in love with her"—Nick let out a humourless laugh, before he buried his face in his palms—"I don't know if she's going to freak out on me and reject me or feel the same way."
"Rejection is a pretty crappy thing," I said. To be honest, I didn't really know what to say. I wasn't an expert on these things. But after seeing Nick and Jenna together, it occurred to me that they were in love. If Jenna wasn't, then she would have left Nick a long time ago.
Nick laughed, rolling his blue eyes at me. "You wouldn't know, Fletcher," he muttered.
I frowned. I knew how being rejected fucking felt. It was painful and damn agonizing. It stabbed me in the heart almost every freaking day whenever Mom or Gwen brought up the fact that Apple and I were soul mates and she would simply say that we were just friends. Nothing more, nothing less.
"What does that mean?" I demanded a little harshly.
"You know, it's pretty obvious you have a thing for Winston," he stated.
I was shocked, was it really that obvious? I pretended to be stupid and kept a poker face on. Nick could be just bluffing. We've known each other since elementary—I haven't treated Apple any different as to how I'd been treating her before. "You're fucking nuts, man," I simply said, shaking my head.
"Logan—it's pretty obvious," he continued, "You're just a pussy."
"Fuck you, Hanson," I growled, "You've lost it."
A fist fight would have commenced (because that's how things worked with us men. Talking about feelings and all that are for sissies), but someone walked in on us, disabling either one of us to throw the first punch.
"Hey, what's going on in here?" interrupted a voice. I didn't need to second guess myself who it belonged to. Apple stood in front of the door, her eyes watching us with curiosity.
"Logan needs to get laid," Nick explained.
It took me all of my patience to not strangle him and beat the life out of the man. Jesus, he never said anything appropriate at times like these.
"Excuse me?" Apple asked, an eyebrow raised as her tone was slightly confused.
"Amie, will you sleep with Logan?" Nick asked bluntly.
I closed my eyes, covering my face with one hand while I hid the other in my pocket. Jesus fucking Christ, this wasn't happening. Once Apple leaves, I was going to make sure that Nick met the fury of my fist.
Apple was silent for a second. I could already see the look of disgust and shock on her face. I was afraid to actually look. But I managed to when she chuckled and responded, "Yeah, I guess."
My eyes snapped to her, and I stared. Like a fucking idiot.
I just stare at Apple.
"But, it's not like we will, anyway," she finished, flipping the blonde strands of hair on her shoulder back. "Logan and I are friends. It's just sex. It's not that big of a deal." She looked back, where everyone was gathered to watch Zoey and Blake eat the cake. "Shall we?" Apple asked, taking both Nick and I by the arms.
The rest of the wedding, there was only one thing that I could think of. No, it wasn't the fact that Zoey was married or the fact that Nick was going to propose to Jenna. Oh, no, no, no.
Those were trivial shit.
What was on my mind was how Apple was fine with doing the deed with me. It didn't make any fucking sense. I could have sworn that girls looked for commitments and all of those crap from a guy—I never really pictured Apple like the kind who didn't mind "casual sex."
Plus, if we were to... you know, what would it do to our friendship?
Shit, women made things too complicated.