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Cody and Clarissa get further down the aisle.
I add my applause as they pass me by.
The air is alive with celebration. Delighted guests, grins stretching wide. Sweat glistening on their shiny foreheads.
I notice the way the women all lean a little more into their partners. I can tell which of the men plan on popping the question soon by the way their eyes soften. I see which guys are definitely never getting married by the way they gulp and face the ground.
Nothing escapes me.
Like I said, I have superpowers.
The wedding party disappears and Henry gives me a mournful expression as he signs, “Cute couple. Now where’s the bar?”
I roll my eyes.
Henry stares expectantly at me, waiting for me to sign back.
I don’t, instead looking around for my target tonight.
Two rows ahead, I see a pair of girls watching us.
Well, mostly Henry.
My bestie is tall and painfully skinny, although he spent most of his teenage years trying to bulk up. That lankiness came in handy when he was booked for a photoshoot on the street at fifteen years old.
He wears his hair in a ponytail which every girlfriend he’s ever had has complained about. However, coupled with his cheekbones and undeniably sharp jawline, he’s been able to calm all dissatisfaction.
I see the shorter chick sneaking glances and realize she’s not scared away by the atrocious ponytail.
“Look at that girl over there.” I slide my eyes in the direction of his admirers and make the sign for ‘girl’ quickly. Like a butterfly flapping its wings and then disappearing, the instruction is gone in a blink.
Henry doesn’t even glance her way.
“You promised me an open bar.” He makes a fist and extends his thumb to his mouth. I take note of the slight desperation in his gaze.
“Just look,” I sign insistently, not deterred in the least.
In fact, I like a challenge.
How do you think I got him here?
Henry was at home, wallowing over his ex-girlfriend before I invited him to Cody and Clarissa’s wedding. I’m hoping to drag him on the dance floor and introduce him to someone new tonight.
Weddings are a great place to meet a significant other. Or so I’ve been informed.
I jut my chin at a blonde in a blue dress. “Her? She has that European look you like.”
“Not. Interested.” Henry shakes his head as he signs.
I narrow my eyes.
He scoffs and flops back into the chair, causing it to teeter on its hind legs.
I keep scouting on his behalf as we’re ushered into a reception hall that looks like it was designed by the organizers of the Met Gala. Candles flicker on round tables covered in white cloth and the most stunning centerpieces known to man.
Guests are finding their seats and swiping champagne off the waiters bobbing in and out of the crowd. Friends greet each other with smiles.
“Who’s the groom again?”
