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In one quick move, I'm upright again, and we're moving across the floor. My hair falls over my face, and Mark brushes it away softly.
Maybe I'm drunker than I thought because I want to kiss him. My eyes keep dropping to his mouth, watching the small movement of his lips. There's a twitch at the corner, and his lips part slightly. The motions are so subtle, almost unnoticeable, but I can see them.
“So,” he says, slipping his fingers deeper around my lower back, “what do you do in the big city? Lawyer? Fashion? Model?”
“No, nothing like that. My parents are plastic surgeons, so of course, they wanted me to go to medical school. But I really have a love for art. Painting mostly.”
“That's cool. There's a guy in town who does artsy stuff. He carves things from these giant pieces of wood. Pretty intricate stuff. You should be an artist if you love it. Open a gallery or something.”
“Yeah, that probably won't happen. Art is my secret passion, no one knows because I'm supposed to be someone else. Follow in the grand path my parents lay out for me. You know how it is.”
“Actually, I don't.” He gives me a gentle smile. “I've always been a mechanic for as long as I can remember. Ever since I was kid, I would take things apart and put them back together. I think my parents are just happy I graduated high school. We never had much, so they never expected much.”
Thinning my lips, I feel awkward. It's easy to forget that most people don't live the way I do. They don't have every opportunity at their fingertips with only the pressure from their parents to accept what they're supposed to be.
“What do you like to paint?” he asks.
He's really curious?
Mark doesn't seem turned off by the fact my choices in life are mostly superficial. I don't have to worry about anything really. Money, a roof over my head, food, clothes, those things have never been an issue.
Ask and I shall receive. The word no doesn't exist in my world. A few phone calls from my parents and I can have anything I want.
“You really want to know?” I ask with a grin.
“I wouldn't ask if I didn't.”
“Landscapes. I love to paint landscapes.”
“Well you're in the right place then. The mountains around us are amazing. I know of a few spots that would probably blow your mind.”
“I'll have to send you one of the skyline paintings I've done. There's so much going on, I can literally walk a block or two and find something completely different. The people change, the buildings change, it's wild.”
Mark's eyes settle on mine, and I can't ignore the pull I feel. It feels like more than just an attraction. His hand around my waist makes my skin hot. The way he looks at me makes my stomach flip. His voice causes my hair to bristle and makes my heart pound. All of it feels too real.
Forcing myself to look away, I inhale a slow breath. I'm going home tomorrow. I'll probably never see this guy again. Whatever it is I think I'm feeling is just an effect from the wedding and too much wine. All the wine.
The music picks up, and the floor starts to fill with other guests. Mark slips his hand free from my back, and I hate how cold I feel as he backs away. But he doesn't let me go. He holds my hand, pulling me off to the side.
“Everyone! Can I get your attention?” Ryder yells.
We all turn to look. Ryder is standing on a chair with Jenna at his side. Her eyes are puffy and red like she's been crying, and for a brief moment my heart stops.
What's going on? Is she okay?
The room goes quiet as his eyes drop to Jenna. “We have an announcement to make. Babe, do you want to tell them?” he asks her.
Jenna turns her attention from Ryder to all the guests. “We're pregnant!” she yells, her eyes welling up again.
Pregnant. . .
My stomach sinks as I force a smile. I know I should be happy for them, and I am. I just can't ignore the sadness I feel inside. Jenna is doing exactly what she wants to do. She's happy. She has a husband and now a baby on the way.
What about me? Where's my happily ever after?
“Hey,” Mark says, shaking my hand to get my attention. “You want to get out of here?” His eyes search mine, studying me, trying to read my mind. “We can go someplace else for a bit. Get away from all this.”
It's like he can read my mind, as if he senses the sadness and anger and frustration that's bubbling inside me.
