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The bridal party texted twenty minutes ago to say they were fifteen minutes away, and my eyes can’t help but be drawn to the glass doors behind the partition through which they’ll appear.
As we take up our positions behind it, I spot a puff of white draped in a veil of some sort, behind which appears a vision in a coral dress holding the door open for her.
The creature’s golden shoulders are on display and her hair tied into a neat bun at the back of her head. She lifts the bottom of Carolyn’s dress, helping her through the doorway, all grinning nervously as they walk towards us.
Anne, in her black suit with her clipboard glued to her hands, leads the way, whispering some instruction at the insolent girl to whom I thoroughly intend to teach a lesson or two.
I’m still irritated by the panic I felt this morning as I watched her wade absently into dangerous water, running towards her only to watch monstrous wave after wave knock her under, swimming fast despite no longer seeing her head above the waterline.
For a moment, I felt the terror of another day as I tried to wake someone up… though with her reckless, insouciant attitude, I doubt Indigo has even grasped what kind of danger is out there.
Exhaling my frustration, I take her body in to ease my discomfort.
Her strapless dress hugs her ample breasts, and my cock pulsates at the sight of them, and at those plump lips, the muted pink the same color as the long hair she has hidden inside the neat bun that I would like to unravel with my hands.
My fingers ache to run through her hair, to wind it tightly around my fist, to drag her across the room with it, up the stairs, and to pull her head back until she can barely breathe but for a gasp that whooshes from her as I enter her.
I close my eyes for a second, shaking out the vision so that I don’t have to walk down the fucking aisle with quite such an uncivilized erection.
My eyes open at the sound of high-pitched voices, only to collide with her gaze which she withdraws from me very fast, choosing instead to focus on the bride who looks like she’s on the verge of panic.
“You’ll be fine,” sings Indigo, brushing a lock of Carrie’s long dark hair off her face as her uncle, who will be walking his niece down the aisle, rubs his hand up and down her arm.
“I can’t even believe this is happening.”
“Hey, you wanted it,” Nisha, another bridesmaid, laughs as two others squeeze the bride’s hand.
“If I pass out, will you catch me?” she asks her uncle. “I seriously think it’s gonna happen.”
Indigo’s eyes jump to meet mine for a moment, that sullen glare of hers unmistakable, before sliding back to the bride.
“I’ll try,” her uncle laughs. “Let’s just try and avoid that happening, shall we?”
“Are we ready, everyone?” interrupts Anne.
“God, I’m nervous myself,” mutters Sarah, one of the bridesmaids. “Is that normal?”
“I hope so,” chuckles Indigo. “Because I’m about to fucking well pass out as well.”
“I’m suresomeonewill catch you,” replies Kennedy with a smirk, and I imbibe the instant flush of red that explodes on her cheeks. She blinks at him flatly before her eyes wander to my chest and then look away.
“Couples,” rasps Anne, “please get into position on this side of the partition. And then you’ll walk on my cue.”
She jostles us about a bit until we’re in the right order. “Bridesmaids and groomsmen, take position please.”
My body hardens as Indigo is ordered to stand next to me.
She’s tiny in comparison to the women I usually date—probably about five foot three. Her size and the thought of how easily I could carry her from one room to the next makes me very hard. Any anyway, what she lacks in height, she more than makes up for with that attitude of hers.
On breaks from the woman I’ve been earmarked to marry, a thing I refuse to do, and the main source of my father’s current wrath, I've typically dated models, many of them approaching my height, and truth be told, the appeal of every single one has waned fast.
I use the wordDatecasually because, as I make sure to tell them, I don’t get attached emotionally.
I know why it happened to me, why I shut down, but I can’t undo it no matter how much therapy I’ve attempted over the years. The things other men feel for women, I’m incapable of. When I date someone, I go through the motions, giving attention, advice, support, protecting them if need be, fucking them, of course, and I’ve been faithful every time, but as forlove, it’s not in my DNA.
Or rather, I haven’t felt it since I was a boy.
My friends tell me I just haven’t met the right woman, but they’re wrong. I’m broken into too many pieces, and even the largest shards can’t be put back together. I know it, and I let any woman who has come near me know it as quickly as possible. I used to assume they’d run a mile once I told them, but they don’t. Maybe they think they canfixme, or maybe they don’t care as long as they have access to my wealth.
