[00]: "Crush."
It all started with a wedding.
Not mine, obviously.
I was only seventeen, still a senior in high school—well, almost a senior since the school year was scheduled to begin tomorrow—so things like getting married were not in my radar for a minimum of ten years.
That didn't mean that I didn't believe in true love, though. It's just that I didn't believe in getting married too early, no matter how much you loved that person. In my humble opinion, there was no harm in waiting a few years until the two of them were settled comfortably in their adult lives, and mature enough to be actually ready for that kind of commitment. But then again, the people who were getting married tonight were only eighteen, so I wasn't about to go around proclaiming my opinion to the guests who've already started to fill the garden.
Anyways, back to my point. One of my two straight best friends, Gideon Kincaid, and his arch-nemesis—or so he claimed—were getting married today. And nope, it wasn't because they had finally gotten over their pretend hatred, fallen in love, and had been in too much of a hurry to prove their undying devotion to each other that they couldn't wait.
No. It was a marriage of convenience.
Let's not get into why, because that would take a long ass time to explain.
"How do I look?" Lyle Thornton, my other best friend, appraised himself in the mirror after fixing the tie he'd been messing with for the past twenty or so minutes. He met my eyes in the reflection, and although he tried to keep up the confident mask he wore in the company of others all the time, his gaze betrayed a hint of vulnerability.
I could clearly see the worry in his eyes; the self-doubt and the genuine frustration of whether or not he looked good enough. A third person might've laughed out loud or said that he was fishing for compliments if he had asked them that question because, to be honest, the guy looked like a freaking model. But I knew him too well to blame him. Years of bitter experiences from the past were sometimes impossible to get over.
"God, Thorn." I put down the magazine I'd been absently flipping over and stood up from the couch, walking over to him and the full-size mirror he was standing in front of, "You look absolutely fantastic." I put both my hands on his shoulders and squeezed, grinning at him in the mirror, "I mean, seriously. You claim that you are the ugly duckling all the time, but I don't see why you're not ready to accept that you're the freaking swan now. Just look at those cheekbones!"
Lyle's cheeks went red, the same way it did whenever I made it my mission to shower him with compliments, to try and get him to forget all the hurtful things that had been said to him.
"Shut up!" He spun around rapidly, forcing me to drop my hands as he mock-glared at me, "Every time you do this, I swear to myself that I will never ask you how I look again. But somehow, you always make me break it!" He let out a pissed off sigh, "And the worst part is, I never know what I want more; for you to agree with me, or for you to argue and make me see that I'm all that you say I am!"
I chuckled, shaking my head at him, "I don't care if you wage the Third effin' World War inside your head over whether or not to believe me. Just open your freaking eyes and look at yourself. Not everyone can pull off those ratty t-shirts you insist on wearing and still look like the front cover of a magazine." He opened his mouth, probably to defend his much-loved tees, but I cut him off, "Now, stop making me stroke your ego and come on." I looped my arm through his and dragged him away from the mirror, ignoring his last-minute hair-fixing, "If you spend another second in front of that mirror, I'm telling everyone that I'm the best man and you're one of the groomsmen."
That threat had him scurrying into action. It had been a never-ending debate between us for the whole week on who was better suited to be the best man. Gideon, in his typical fashion, had finally snapped and told us that both of us could be his best men if we just shut up. "No fucking way." Lyle turned to me, eyes wide, "It's either I'm the best man or both of us!"
I smirked to myself, glad that I had somewhat succeeded in boosting his confidence, as we locked our hotel room and made our way next door to the groom's, "That's what I thought."
~
Hours later, the perfectly organized ceremony came to an end. After receiving endless death-glares from Gideon for Lyle's innuendo-filled toast-speech, and me having to intercept the newly-weds on the dance floor once, because things had seemed to have gotten heated—due to the insults they hadn't been able to stop from flinging at each other, no doubt—I flopped onto one of the chairs, heaving a huge sigh of exhaustion. We had offered to stay behind until the hotel staff cleaned the banquet hall and gave us the thumbs-up to leave.
Apparently, it was hotel policy. Too many people came back a few hours later asking about their accidentally misplaced belongings, and they wanted to avoid dealing with them.
"Dang." I sighed.
"I know." Lyle plopped into the seat beside me, "Kincaid-Remington." He chuckled, "Who would've thought?"
"Right?" I gave him a tired grin and leaned back on the chair, closing my eyes. From the moment Gideon had told us about this "marriage", both of us had been unable to get over our endless amusement and shock. While a huge part of me was baffled, yet happy that he had agreed at all, a secondary, small part of me, the selfish one that thought only about himself, had been equal parts excited and worried.
Because one of my best friends marrying Harvey Remington meant that his best friend, Axel Cordovan, would be spending time with us.
I was excited because I'd finally get to see what he was like as a person, but also sick with panic over talking to him, and slightly worried about being forced to face the possibility that he might not be all I'd cracked him up to be in my head.
It was a weird feeling; because I half-hoped that the guy was an asshole so I could get over this fanboy crush I had on him. But I didn't know whether I would be able to deal with the disappointment if he ended up being a jackass like the rest of them.
Sigh.
"Hey, guys." A deep voice called, and before I even raised my eyes to take a good look at the newcomer, I knew in my gut that it was him. Yeah, I know I've not heard his voice much, but that cute little base rumble of his baritone was unmistakable.
I'd recognize it in my freaking sleep.
When I finally raised my eyes and looked up at his widely grinning face, in which not an ounce of that popular-guy snootiness was present, I knew that I was fucked.
He was definitely everything I had cracked him up to be.
And more.
Woah, who knew Lyle had such a different side to him?
This is it for today's update. A short intro. So sorry about the length but I thought it gave us a good insight.
This book WILL NOT have a repeat of the scenes that happened in TQWMTBB.
I plan to show you guys all those secret hangouts of the Three Musketeers and their moments.
So fret not, I think it won't disappoint! :D
Hope you liked the Prologue!
NEXT UPDATE: Oct 13
If you enjoyed being in Ryker's head, please do,
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