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“She’s supposed to be nosy; it’s her job,” Oran ribs him.
Berke’s smirk is brief as he studies our cousin. “Wyn knows that fancy bullshit but I’d beat your ass if I weren’t broke.”
“So, this is really how the Hales communicate?” Dallas questions around a mouth full of fries. “Threats and insults?”
We all offer some form of confirmation to his statement. Since Oran is the best man, he’d put together a low-key guys night at a local pub that he paid to have closed just for us. Food, beer, pool, darts, and grown men getting on each other’s nerves. We’ve invited our acquaintances, family members, and friends, but gave them a time hours after our arrival so the two sets of brothers can catch up.
Jagger is the only exception but he’s nowhere to be found.
Berke throws the thing I was thinking out in the room although I wouldn’t have phrased it that way. “Where’s your girlfriend, Jagger?”
“He just sent me a text that he'll be at the wedding, but he can’t make it. He’s exhausted. Those twins are kicking their ass. I'll be in the same boat when Karessa has our boy.”
We all stop when he throws that information out like it’s common knowledge.
Dallas is the first to speak. “Wow, another male Hale, congratulations!” He sips his beer, but his eyes grow when he has a thought. “Damn, there’s not a girl amongst us. Hales so far have manly ass sperm.”
So far, I’m happy that my bachelor party is going well. I’d never thought Berke would be here conversing like a normal human being. We may have an uneasy truce, but I’m looking forward to the progress in the future.
“Berke, prepare yourself, there won’t be any tits and ass here. With Oran and Jagger being married, me on the way, and us not being sure if Dallas is a virgin...” I maintain a straight face through Oran’s laughter and Dallas’s protests. “We just didn’t see the point.”
Oran leans forward to command our attention. “Listen up, bitches. I started a Hale tradition where the groom gives the bride a gift on their wedding day. Don’t just pick some random shit, make it meaningful.”
“I don’t plan on getting married,” Berke announces before he takes a hearty bite of his burger, prompting me to order my own.
“Yeah, I said the same thing now I’m trying to figure out how to ditch y’all.” Oran stares at his ring like it's magic.
Dallas, who was refilling his beer when Oran was speaking, puts down the pitcher to stare at his brother. “That’s not very best man of you, Oran.”
“Shut up.” There’s no malice in his words, just general grumpiness. “Besides, Berke’s punk ass would be the best man if he wasn’t an asshole.”
“Does that mean you’re going to be my best man, brother?”
Oran frowns. “Where the fuck are y’all’s friends?”
“We all can’t have great love affairs like you and Jagger.”
Oran scowls while the rest of us break into laughter. Berke for the win.
I can’t wait until the morning to see Imala. More people showed by the time we
finished dinner. Once Bowie appeared with half-naked women and announced he was about to take the party to a whole other level, Oran and I felt it was safe to sneak out. It doesn’t matter that I was the man of honor, it was about to get wild.
I’ve been sending her songs to express my moods. Yesterday, I sent her “Dress On” by Justin Timberlake and today was Bruno Mars’ “Gorilla.” I want her so bad, my nervous energy had me killing myself during my workouts. She’s nervous about the sex, her apprehension practically bleeds out of her pores. She wants me. It’s in the way she looks at me and touches me. The fear is something she’s built from entering new territory. But, by the time I enter new territory, she’ll be more than ready.
I take a deep breath and knock on her door.
“Wyn?” she questions like she can’t believe her eyes.
She’s still dressed for her night out, a spaghetti strap white, flowing dress that stops mid-thigh and jeweled sandals. She hates heels. Imala’s sweet face has a light coat of makeup and her hair flows in waves past her shoulders.
“They talked you into contacts, I see.”
Imala giggles and pushes at her phantom glasses. “Karessa said glasses don’t photograph well.”
I pull her outside in my arms. “I won’t mind.” I put a hepatica flower in her hair. “Better. Now you look like my little woodland nymph, like the books you love so much.”
Imala’s smile is all I want right now. “Maybe my name should have been Diana like the goddess.”
