Page 34 of Unmasking My Dark Knight

Why couldn’t High Jynx be invited as the best man instead? It would’ve made this whole wedding week much less stressful and probably nicer.

I looked around at the taxidermy on the wall, flinching at a glaring deer head that stared at me. I felt uneasy. The room was dark and filled with neon signs on the boards; the fencing between each section was caked with Christmas lights that ran along the bar. Wait, there was a bar in here? Who the hell drank and threw axes? This seemed like the worst idea in the world.

“Okay, everyone. We’re going to break into groups and coach each group on how to safely play with the axes. There are thirty of you, and we have five coaches. We’ll give you five minutes to arrange into groups of six,” the manager of this place said. He wore clothing that was just as ratty as the outside of the building—some beat-up plaid shirt and ripped shorts. Pennsylvania weather was as unpredictable as that outfit.

“You heard the man, vamoose!” Tallulah said, splitting down the sea of her own people.

As we all coordinated into groups, I ran straight to Tallulah and held onto her. Then there were a few stragglers, one of them being Ro. He looked in my direction, and I dreaded it. I focused on the very top corner of the ceiling to avoid his eyes. Please don’t get stuck with us, please. I’ll be more grateful for my life than I already am, just please… don’t let him be anywhere near me.

“Come here, man!” Gustav called him over. “You’re the best man! You’re with me.”

Phew. That was close.

While we went through this fifteen-minute coaching, I couldn’t help but be distracted by everything, but mainly Tallulah’s rings. When I go out tonight, would High Jynx be there? What was the likelihood that he’d be working three nights in a row? Part of me hoped he was, though. Was that a bad thing?

“In each section, you’ll see a fenced-off spot for two teams to battle against one another. All teams will line up within these three sections, and you’ll battle the team beside you. Bride and groom, your two separate groups will be in this section,” the instructor gestured to the very far left of the room.

With all the fun chattering and excitement, our team and Gustav’s lined up. We had tables beside us where they were continuously bringing out all sorts of food–if you could call it that–and pitchers of beer aplenty. Honestly, anything cheap and foamy was disgusting to me. I’d never touch that kind of drink. Anyway, there was no way I would drink and throw axes.

By the time it was my turn, Vann–one of the groomsmen–was beside me. That was fine. He was kinda cute. I hadn’t talked to him on the trip yet, but I had noticed he’d been checking me out for the last couple of days. Obviously, I’m beautiful.

Vann gave me a cheeky smile, and I subtly looked down, then back up at him.

“No, no, no. Wrong lineup. Maid of honor versus best man!” Teddy–one of the other groomsmen–laughed as he pulled Vann out of the way and put Romeo in his place.

We glowered at one another. Ugh. Really? We had to be against one another?

“LET’S FUCKING GO!” Gustav yelled, and all the other men erupted into hoots and hollers like freaking cavemen who shared a single brain cell.

I rolled my eyes in Ro’s direction. Now I really needed a drink. “Get me a cosmo,” I told the server who came by, asking for drink orders.

“We don’t have those,” he shot back with a jeering grin. Clearly, he wasn’t used to serving beautiful women and their gorgeous style of drinks.

“Give me whatever colorful drink you can make. Martini, margarita, whatever.”

“They don’t have Mike’s Hard Lemonade here if that’s what you’re still into,” Ro said with a smirk.

“You have got to be kidding me. You did not just say that!” I squeaked. This man knew how to boil my blood. Any angrier, and I may just grow horns to stab him with.

After all these years, he remembered that humiliating night out of all the others? A better memory would’ve been when we used to play Marco Polo in the pool, or when I made cupcakes for him and Gustav on Valentine’s Day when I was in the eighth grade–cringe. Or how about when we’d play Guitar Hero together? Or when he taught me how to shoot a free-throw on our personal basketball court. There were so many better things to bring up, other than embarrassing admissions that unfortunately pointed back to the humiliating truth… I used to have a crush on Romeo Scott.

“So you still drink those?” he asked.

“As if! I’m not thirteen anymore.” I picked up my ax, and Ro followed suit on his side.

“No… You certainly are not. It’s been, what, like fifteen years since I saw you last?” he controlled his voice.

“Try sixteen,” I said.

“Someone’s counting. Good,” his voice rasped, and it grated my nerves.

I waved my ax around, staring daggers at him. “You bother me so much.”

“Why?” he asked.

Really? That was the question we were going with?

I slung back my arms, steadied myself on the line, and threw the ax. It rotated so many times in the air, then it hit the ground.