Matt looks back and forth between us, the gap between his teeth visible as he relaxes into his usual charming grin. “Oh my god, ze is perfect for you!”
“Can you not?” I smack him, too. “Anyway, no introduction needed I guess, but Matt, Eris. Eris, Matt.”
“Great to meet you, dude!” Matt waves the heels in greeting, before his smile tightens into a wince. “Wait, can I call you dude? Sorry. I call everyone dude, but I can call you something else if it bothers you. Just let me know, and I’ll get it right. Sorry.”
“Oh god, heisworse than you,” Eris mutters under zis breath. “Call me whatever. I don’t care. Just chill out.” Ze snatches zis heels back from Matt, who nods furiously, overeager as always. “And for the record, these are mine. Not everyone is a corn-fed himbo like you two. I like having a few extra inches.”
“Don’t we all,” I mutter before Eris’s meaning sinks in. “Wait, I’m not a himbo!”
Eris merely smirks at me.
Hips rocking side to side now (a sign that he’s “chilled out”), Matt beams. “Love that! You have great style, by the way. Just really yourself! I think that’s amazing and courageous to march to the beat of your own drum like you do. Your dress is really cute! I like your tattoos too! So edgy! How many do you have? What’s your favorite one? Which one hurt the most?”
To my utter delight, Eris’s cheeks flush again. Zis mouth hangs open as Matt rambles, blurting out questions and compliments like confetti.
“Matt, take a breath,” I tease. “Can we check in before you interrogate zim?”
Matt reddens. “Sorry. Got carried away.” He fishes in his pocket and passes me a room key. “Here. Sorry, you’re right next door to my parents. So, good luck!” He makes finger guns at us with a click of his tongue.
“Oh god,” I groan.
“Amazing!” Eris snatches the room key from me. “Bambi, I’m gonna pull a noise complaint or two out of you this weekend.”
“Eris!” It’s my turn to blush furiously as Matt and Eris both crack up. “What the fuck? Why are you like this?”
“On that note, my parents still don’t know you’re coming.” Matt tries and fails to hide his glee. Even if he bends to his parents will, he still finds ways to push back against them. Just in little ones that he could play off as ignorance. “So, like, have fun? No need to hold anything back, if you know what I mean.” He winks with another click of his tongue. “Anyway, I’m probably running late to the rehearsal, so I’ll see you two at the groom’s dinner thing later! If you beat us there, please record my mom’s reaction!”
As soon as Matt is out of earshot, Eris leans toward me. “Gotta be honest, I was hardcore judging you for being so hung up on your ex—”
“I’m not hung up on him.”
Eris ignores me, hefting zis bag over zis shoulder. “But I get it now. I would probably never let that man go either. He’s so…nice. I hate that word, but that’s what he is.”
I shut the hatchback of my station wagon with a sigh. “Don’t forget, you’re the upgrade.”
We both wave as Matt drives past us out of the parking lot, heading to Sigurdsson’s campus where the wedding will be tomorrow afternoon. He bumps the curb, too busy cheesing at us and waving wildly to pay attention to where he’s going.
“Yeah, but I’m notthat,” Eris mutters. “He’s so hot and awkward, I just feel compelled to protect him and keep him safe from the world.”
“I dunno, you’re pretty great, Bud,” I tease, putting my hand on the small of zis back as we head toward the front of the hotel. A hint of fluster tinges Eris’s tattooed cheeks, and I can’t help but smile. “You have great style.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“So courageous,” I murmur in zis ear. “So cute and edgy.”
“Bambi, I will shut you up if you keep this up.” Eris glares at me, zis face flushed dark red. My cheeks burn at the warning in zis eyes, but my grin only widens. “I regret telling you anything.”
Nine
Home Sweet Home
Itshouldfeelugly,the cold satisfaction that curls in my belly when Mrs. Jacobson sees me walk into the rehearsal dinner. But I love every second. The double take, the flash of shock and anger before her perfect mask is back on. Unobtrusive for once, Eris trails behind me. My presence alone was enough to make her facade crack, just for a second; my chest glows in delight.
The Cheery Chicken (the bar where every large gathering in Solberg is held, because it’s the only restaurant that rents out the back patio that overlooks the river for private events) is a few blocks from our hotel. Even that short walk was a reminder that I no longer belong here. Between the bemused looks from people who pretended not to recognize me, and the comments about the weather that strangers exchange in lieu of greetings, Eris quickly agreed with me that Solberg is a small town rendition ofThe Stepford Wives.
So the Jacobsons fit right in. Rushing through the crowded patio, Matt’s mom greets me too loudly, too friendly to begenuine. “Blake! I had no idea you would be here!” She gives me an air kiss, her fingers gripping tight on my forearms.
“Last minute addition.” I return her faux-enthusiasm in kind, my own hands forming claws around her wrists. After a lifetime of being her neighbor, my fake side comes naturally. My forced smile turns simpering, so Mrs. Jacobsen can’t ignore that I’m putting on the same airs she is. “My invitation must have been lost in the mail. Happened to my parents, too!” I screw my face up in dramatized confusion. “Strange, I wonder how that could have happened?”
