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But then, seven months into my job on the world tour, my future sister-in-law, Kennedy, called to tell me some shocking news: Colin had not only RSVP’d yes to her upcoming wedding with my brother, he’d not only agreed to serve as one of Logan’s groomsmen, but he’d also RSVP’d for only one!
In a frenzy of excitement, Kennedy and I both went straight to Colin’s Instagram during the call to see if we could discern the reason for Colin’s surprisingly stag RSVP. And that’s when we discovered yet another shocking thing: Colin had deleted every photo of that gorgeous dancer from his Instagram page!
Obviously, Kennedy and I realized Colin being suddenly single didn’t guarantee he’d feel attracted to me during the wedding weekend. But, still, I can’t deny we were both excited about our discovery, because it meant I stood a snowball’s chance in hell with him! Not great odds, but better than nothing.
When I hung up with Kennedy, I was buzzing. I told myself to knock it off and not think about Colin again. I told myself celebrity crushes are fine and fun, but delusions are not. I nonetheless couldn’t stop my fantasies from coming, against my will. Every time I tried to sleep on the next lumpy mattress during the tour, I imagined Colin seeing me at the wedding and not recognizing me. I imagined him looking me up and down and saying, “You can’t possibly be Amy!” and then proceeding to pay special attention to me throughout the entire wedding weekend, until, ultimately, we were naked in Colin’s hotel room after the wedding reception, and Colin was making all my sexiest fantasies about him come true.
I knew my fantasies were exactly that. I told myself not to expect anything to actually happen. I vowed to myself I’d remain calm and collected when I saw Colin again. I swore to myself I wouldn’t blush or stare—or, God forbid, swoon. Which makes me a liar now, I suppose, given the way my body is reacting as I watch Colin’s gorgeous frame bounding down the center aisle of the church.
“Colin!” Logan bellows, as I breathe through the butterflies ravaging my belly. My brother leaves his post to meet and then hug his old friend, before proudly introducing Colin to Kennedy. Her brown skin glowing with excitement, Kennedy hugs Colin in greeting—and suddenly, everyone around me, other than the wedding coordinator, seems on the cusp of leaving their assigned positions to head over to Colin, as well.
“Hold on, everyone!” the wedding coordinator pleads. “We only have the church ‘til six. Can we finish the rehearsal real quick, and have everyone say hello to Colin when we’re done?” Without waiting for anyone’s reply, she moves to Colin, grabs his tattooed forearm, and guides him to the end of the groomsmen line—to a spot mirroring mine with the bridesmaids. “When it’s your turn to escort your assigned bridesmaid,” she explains to Colin, “offer her your arm like this and escort her with a big smile on your face for the cameras.”
At the words “assigned bridesmaid,” Colin looks at me, smiles politely, and returns his attention to the wedding coordinator.
Oh my god. Yes! Colin clearly has no idea who I am! And I couldn’t be more thrilled about it.
It makes sense. When Colin last saw me, I was barely fourteen and looked twelve. I was flat as a pancake, with braces on my teeth, zits on my face, and my hair looked like an auburn poodle taking a nap on my head. Plus, I was a hot mess back then, emotionally. My best friend had recently moved to another state. My parents were getting divorced, Logan had gone off to college, and Mom had decided to downsize and get a smaller place across town. The day I said goodbye to Colin, I knew I was going to be attending a new school, where I’d have to make all new friends, and, on top of it all, I also knew, instinctively, I’d never see my lifelong crush ever again.
I like to think I’ve had quite the “glow-up” since that last goodbye with Colin. Partly, because I was a late bloomer. But even more so, because of my first roommate in college, Lily. On day one, I took one look at my new roommate’s sparkling, easy charm and beauty and eked out, “Help me, Lily.” And that’s exactly what that superstar did, in every conceivable way.
Besides giving me a much-appreciated physical makeover, Lily more importantly laughed at all my jokes, in a way my family never did. She took me along to parties with her amazing friends, who also laughed at my silly jokes and coaxed me out of my shell. I doubt I’ll ever possess Lily’s level of confidence in this lifetime. The woman is a force of nature. But thanks to Lily and her outgoing friends, by the end of my first year of college, I felt like a whole new person. A much more sparkling version of myself than the hot mess Colin had hugged goodbye on Cedar Street.
