I rolled my eyes as I turned to look at him. “What does it matter what I think? You already have an obscenely high level of self-esteem.”
“We’re friends—of course I care what you think. I’ve already told you I think you’re gorgeous.” He said like it was no big deal.
I definitely hadn’t forgotten about that. Probably never would, to be honest.
“I still don’t see how me telling you how attractive you are does anything.” I needed this conversation to die. It made me feel vulnerable to tell him how attracted I was to him. I guess he wasn’t really asking that, though, thank goodness. Being attracted to someone and thinking someone was hot were two different things, right? Just because Slate thought I was gorgeous—ooh, I wanted to say that again.
Slate thought I was gorgeous.
Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, just because Slate thought I was gorgeous didn’t mean he was attracted to me. He flirted playfully with me, but I didn’t think it came from any real feelings. He’d already told me multiple times that he’d never fallen for anyone before, and I’d be a naive idiot to think I could be the one to make him fall.
Ugh. Why was I even thinking about all this? I didn’t want to date Slate. That had disaster written all over it.
I blamed him and all his sexiness for making my brain go haywire. He was myfriend, and I was so grateful for his friendship.
He gave me a quick look. “Because a compliment from a friend means a lot more than one from a random person.”
Oh, right, we were in the middle of a conversation, and I’d totally spaced out—freaked out. He obviously wasn’t giving up, so I’d just have to tell him what I thought of his looks.
“Fine,” I complied. “I think you’re gorgeous too.”
He let out a small laugh. “Now, was that really so hard?”
I stuck my tongue out at him. I didn’t know what it was about him, but he brought out a different, more feisty side of me, even if sometimes it was childish. It was nice that no matter what, I could be myself around him, that it came naturally.
He reached out to grab my tongue, shocking me with his action and speed. I barely pulled my tongue back in time, laughing at how he’d surprised me.
“Next thing we need to discuss,” he said, finally moving on to a new topic. “Is how your parents are going to think I’m a city boy. I’m from a small town, too.”
I’d heard a lot about his small town, Lakeshore, since half of our friend group was from there. It sounded like one of those dreamy small towns, a cute setting for movies and books. Riverdell was very different. It was more quirky than cute.
“Yeah, but you don’t look like you’re from a small town. You wear nice clothes, comb your hair, and don’t have dirt under your nails. We’re a farming town, a labor-intensive town. Everyone is too busy working or gossiping to have time to think about their appearance,” I tried to explain.
He nodded. “Okay, so am I too overdressed for this wedding? I should have asked you what you wanted me to wear.”
I looked over, admiring his physique all dressed up. “No, you look perfect.” My voice came out breathy, and I could feel my cheeks warm at how I had sounded. I cleared my throat. “I mean, your outfit looks perfect.”
He gave me a mischievous grin. “You think I’m gorgeous,” he started singing, and I recognized the movie quote right away. “You want to kiss me.”
I laughed and smacked his shoulder, interrupting his little song. “Okay, Mr. Congeniality. That’s enough.”
He laughed, and there was a lightness about him I wasn’t used to seeing. He looked happy. Not that he usually looked miserable or anything, but he was always just a little detached.
Looking at his profile, I shook my head and smiled, glad I could make him laugh even if it was at my expense.
* * *
We showed up to the small white chapel a couple of hours later. It looked like it had recently gotten a fresh coat of paint, and the marquee read "Amy and Tyler, destined to be together forever."
A feeling of longing swept through me, wishing I had someone I wanted to be with forever.
Is that why I’d stayed with Josh? Because I had this innate feeling of wanting the happily-ever-after with the white picket fence and two kids? I’d been so foolish.
Slate parked his Jeep, and we made our way into the chapel. It looked the same as it had when I’d grown up here, with its wooden floors and benches, a burgundy carpet runner leading to the altar at the front of the chapel, and a stained glass window behind the choir seats. The only difference was the wedding decorations. Bouquets of white and pink flowers filled the room, and several strands of white satin hung from one side of the room to the other with the middle pulled up high to form an arch over the seats.
I saw my mom before she saw me, helping to arrange the flowers so they looked perfect. She had her dirty-blond hair swept up with curls hanging around her face and looked beautiful in her lilac-colored dress.
“Hey, Mama.”
