I try to stiffen my laugh. “Whatever you’re having sounds good.”
“No,” Joey and Juls say together quickly.
“Oh. Uh okay, glass of Pinot then?”
Brooke spins towards the bar as I eye up the other two. “Why don’t I want to drink what she’s having?”
“Because I’m pretty sure she’s drinking straight jet fuel,” Joey barks around his beer. “She’s completely out of control and I’m in charge of babysitting her for some stupid reason.” He narrows his eyes at Juls. “I’m letting it slide this one time since you’re getting married in two days.”
“Love you,” she replies as she blows him a kiss. “After you get your drink, Dyl, we’re hitting the dance floor.” I nod and glance down at her phone that is lighting up on the table.
“Hey, husband to be. Oh just drinking and dancing. What are you boys doing? If you say strip club I’m finding myself another groom while I’m here.” She takes a sip of her drink and smiles around her straw as Brooke returns miraculously without spilling anything.
“Here you go, Dylan. By the way, the bartender asked for your number.” I glance around her as Joey whips his head in the same direction. The big bald bartender sends a wink my way.
“Uh, no thanks.” I take a generous sip of my wine.
“Seriously, like he’d ever stand a chance with you. He’s more your type isn’t he, Brooke?”
“Fuck you, Joey. You’ve been on my ass all night. What’s your problem? Billy holding out on you?”
“Please. I get laid way more than you do. Tell me, has your virginity grown back yet?”
“Jesus Christ, Joey,” I bark and try not to crack up laughing at poor Brooke’s expense. She isn’t the only person at this table not getting laid. He merely shrugs his shoulders and glances towards the dance floor.
“So, Dylan, isn’t tomorrow going to be insanely awkward for you?” I glare directly at her and suddenly wish I wouldn’t have just come to her defense. Brooke Wicks and alcohol do not mix well. She talks a lot of shit and then ends up passing out or throwing up all over the place. Not a good look for anybody.
I brush my hair off my shoulders. “No, Brooke, I’m not expecting it to be awkward at all. In fact, I can’t fucking wait to have a reunion with ex-fling. It’s not like things ended badly between us or anything.” My voice is thick with sarcasm but given her current state, she probably won’t pick it up. How much has she had to drink?
“Christ, Brooke. Don’t be so fucking rude,” Joey says as Juls turns her back away from the table and continues her phone call. She’s in blissful bride mode and I don’t blame her for avoiding this conversation.
“What? I’m just saying, I would feel awkward if I had to play nice with my ex. You should just hook up with someone else in the wedding party.”
“Jesus Christ, like that’s the answer to all the world’s problems. Just hook up with someone in the wedding party. For your information, the only two other men in the wedding party are gay or married and even if they weren’t, no. I’m not hooking up with anyone at the rehearsal dinner and definitely not at the wedding. That’s how this whole fucked up situation got started in the first place.” I glance over at Joey who is staring at me, wide-mouthed and stunned. “You remember right, Joey? ‘Go ahead Dylan. You know you want to slip off into some dark corner and do something else in that lap of his.’ This is all your fault.”
His eyebrows raise and he leans across the table towards me. “My fault? How is this my fault? I didn’t push you into his lap. I didn’t make you run off to the bathroom with him and tell him to fuck you. And I sure as hell didn’t put a gun to your head to continue being his casual fuck buddy.” His finger darts across the table and points directly at me. “That was all you, cupcake.”
Juls spins around and glares at both of us, phone still up to her ear. “Jesus Christ, you two. Keep it down before we get thrown out of here.”
I reach over and grab his finger, bending it a bit as he screeches and pulls it away from me. “All me? Are you fucking serious? You were the one that said to be his sexy little mistress when we thought he was married. And you were the one that kept trying to convince me that it was more than just casual sex. ‘Oh Dylan, the man sends you love letters and he’s so romantic.’ Remember that bullshit?” I point right back at him and he jerks back in his stool. “Don’t you dare tell me you didn’t have a part in this. I had you yapping in my ear all day about how what we were doing meant more to both of us when clearly, it only meant more to me.” I slam my hand down on the table and grab my drink, downing it quickly. My sparing partner’s face softens and he shakes his head.