Page 17 of Kiss Slay Replay

“Really? That’s too bad,” Ev says. He shrugs again and adjusts his bow tie.

“Why too bad?” I ask, feigning a casual attitude.

“I like Danny all right,” Luke says. “He’s chill. I mean. Not chill, but…”

Evan opens his mouth to say something else but is interrupted by the pianist. She plays this jarringly jaunty tune that quiets the crowd as quickly and effectively as a car crash. She continues for a solid minute, then stands up and announces, “On behalf of Stephanie and Jason, we’re delighted to welcome you to this celebration of their love. If you would please make your way to the lake and find a seat, the ceremony will begin shortly. Thank you.”

“I was convinced she was about to wrap it up with jazz hands,” Evan says, a little too loud.

The crowd shifts gracelessly toward the ceremony space. Our group hangs back, too cool to follow instructions.

“We’re gonna get shit seats,” Cass says, downing her cocktail and setting the glass on a nearby table. A cater waiter dressed in black comes by and scoops it up. Their all-black getup reminds me of the figure I saw in the woods. Maybe it was one of the caterers. Maybe they weren’t wearing a mask. Or gloves. Or they were and my brain distorted the image into something sinister.

I’m eager to rationalize it away, to vanish the needling of dread. But it’s so visceral. And the zipper mouth, the fake eyeballs…how did I manage to conjure that up? Even fresh off my recent horror kick, I haven’t been plagued with nightmares or jumping at every creak in the floorboards. My imagination has never been particularly good. It’s never played a trick on me like that before.

I stare off toward the tree line, toward the woods curtaining pastoral secrets—chipmunk burrows, spiderwebs, the initials of summer lovers carved deep into bark. The growth is so thick, the colors so vivid, it’s like a scene from a fairy tale. I should allow it to be what it is. Beautiful, not menacing.

Me and my flair for drama.

I catch Ravi and Tanya crossing the lawn. They’re holding hands. The sight is stranger than whatever I confronted in the woods. More surreal.

The shadow of a sensation—fingers threading through mine. But my hand is empty. I look down at it. Yes. Empty. A void. An open wound.

An odd thought—this isn’t right.

Something’s wrong. Feels off. Everything, everything, everything.

It’d be easy to blame my ex and his new girlfriend, but I swear it’s not just that. And yeah, I’ve been doom and gloom lately, but this? This feeling right now is…it’s pure, profound dread. Beyond dread. It’s heavy and intense and all-consuming and super inconvenient. Now is not the time for a panic attack. Now is not the time to fall apart.

I clench my fists tight. Release. Breathe.

Evan squeezes my shoulders. “Earth to Willa.”

“Willa to earth,” I say, faking a smile and pretending I’m fine, like I’m not flirting with the edge of a cliff. “Roger, roger.”

“Shall we?”

—

As Cass predicted, we get shit seats. Back row behind a horde of older men—I’m guessing uncles—all with abnormally large heads. I’ve got Evan and Wyatt to my left, Cassie and Luke to my right. I crane my neck attempting to get a better view.

Steph’s older sister, Olivia, stands beneath the lattice awning, smiling and waving like Miss America. She’s officiating the ceremony, and apparently the power vested in her has gone straight to her head.

The fighting-and/or-fucking husband-and-wife musical duo start to play “Here, There and Everywhere” as Jace walks down the aisle. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in a suit before. His idea of dressing up is denim-on-denim. He looks handsome, a little nervous, like an action star on his first red carpet.

“Please rise,” Olivia says.

The song changes.

“What is this?” I whisper to Evan.

“ ‘Love in This Club,’ ” Wyatt answers for him.

“How did you know that?” Evan asks.

“Stephanie told me. It was the song playing when they met.”

“To each their own,” Evan says. “There she is.”