Miles really, really hopes that today goes well. He didn’t realize how badly his nerves would act up until this day. Though, when he spots Calvin in the lobby, his brain quiets down.
Calvin gives Miles a once-over. “You look nice.”
“I don’t.” He tugs at his white button-down shirt. There’s a black bow tie around his collar and he’s wearing a shiny name tag that says Miles Curtis, Assistant Manager. It’s the first time he’s worn it in years, and he definitely doesn’t deserve it.
“You do.” Calvin picks at some lint on Miles’s sleeve and uprights his bow tie. He’s wearing his usual shirt and jeans combo, his glasses framing his eyes, and his hair is tousled like it usually is. And Miles thinks he looks way better than he himself ever could.
“How’d your song-writing go last night?” he asks. While the rehearsal dinner was going on, the band had been at the roof garden, working on their new song.
“Horrible. Chase said he wanted a go at the lyrics, and he started singing about Cassidy.”
Miles snorts. He’s about to ask if he can at least get a glimpse of whatever they’ve already worked on when Bridget’s shrill voicestartles both of them. With rollers in her hair, she marches up to Miles. Behind her, Jeff is mouthing an apology.
“There’s a traffic jam on the highway! A container truck fell over—nobody’s hurt, thank goodness, but people can’t get here. Even our florist isn’t here yet!”
“Oh… uh.” Damn, he’s not equipped for this. Miles checks his watch. Also, there’s a florist downtown, and they should’ve gone local. He has a hunch Bridget will claw at him if he says that, though. “We’ve got three hours to go. They have time.”
“You…!” Bridget gasps, clasping at her hair rollers. “That’s not enough time at all! This isn’t enough! Where’s your mom? Where’s Gabby!?”
“Where’s your wedding coordinator?”
That wasn’t the greatest thing to say. Bridget’s eyes widen, and she lets out another weirdly loud gasp, and suddenly she’s crowding him. For fuck’s sake. He’s way taller than her, and he’s still petrified, backing away with his hands in the air. She hisses, “Are you making fun of me!?”
“Okay.” Jeff puts a hand on her arm and turns her around. “Breathe, babe. This isn’t Miles’s fault.”
“Sorry. You’re right. I apologize.” She groans and nods. Turning away from Miles, her eyes widen when she notices Calvin standing there. “Oh my god, hi. I’m a huge fan.”
Calvin smiles. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”
She approaches Calvin with an honestly frightening kind of enthusiasm, pulling out her phone and giggling. At least Calvin’s presence calmed her down.
“This—this is so cool. I knew you were posting about the inn, but I didn’t know you were still here. Can I get a photo? Can I call my friends? They adore you!”
“Ohhh.” Jeff’s jaw drops. “Thisis Calvin Lowe? I think we saw each other at the bonfire before. I thought you were Miles’s friend.”
A chuckle. “IamMiles’s friend.”
Bridget giggles. “Our band’s still stuck on the freeway. Any chance you’d want to perform?”
“I—”
“Babe.” Jeff steers her away and smiles sheepishly at Calvin. “She’s kidding. Have a good day.”
Once the couple’s left, Calvin says, “That went great. You really know how to talk to brides.”
Miles takes a deep breath. “Thank god I’m gay.”
“Don’t say that. You might be as freaked out on your wedding day.”
He’s never thought about his hypothetical wedding day ever. In an attempt to keep it light, Miles teases, “Are you going to be in it?”
“Sure, if you need a band.”
“No, I meant—” Miles cuts himself off and glares. Calvin’s either horrible at this whole flirting thing, or he’s purposely trying to miss what Miles is saying. “You suck.”
“Do you think she was serious about needing a band? Chase and Gil should be around here somewhere.”
“No. No, it’ll be okay,” he says. “You’re a guest. Go do guest things.”
