“I’m going to sneak off,” I tell Jamie, seeing Niamh being lifted up onto one of the usher’s shoulders. “I won’t disturb the bride and groom. If you join them on the dance floor, tell Ryan and Isabelle I’ll see them back home.”
“Wait, you’re leaving?” Jamie looks shocked as I pick up my clutch from under the table. “You can’t go now!”
“Why not? It’s not long until guests have to leave anyway and I have an early flight tomorrow.”
“You’re not on the threeP.M.?”
“I have to leave the hotel at sevenA.M.,” I say, wincing. “I don’t know why I booked such a stupid flight all those months ago. It’s been a fun weekend, thanks so much for the tour yesterday.”
“Okay, well how are you getting back?” he asks, standing as I do, which is weirdly well-mannered and old-school of him. “Shall I come with you? I should come with you.”
“Don’t be stupid, you have loads of pals here and I’ve been hogging you. I’ll get a taxi from outside or an Uber easily. Enjoy the rest of the night,” I insist.
He looks a bit bewildered at my sudden exit as we lean toward each other to give a polite parting kiss on the cheek. I notice that he lingers slightly, or am I making it up? I think I’m making it up.
He smells so good.
“Night, Jamie.”
“Night, Freya.”
I pull away, smile up at him, and slip off out of the wedding. There are taxis lined up outside in anticipation, so it takes no time at all to get back to the hotel. I kick off my shoes and stand in the middle of my room with my hands on my hips.
Am I really going to do this?
No. This is ridiculous. I’m not going to run naked down a hotel corridor. That would be completelyabsurd.
Would it?
I quickly open the door and stick my head out, looking up and down the corridor. It’s dead. Completely quiet and empty. Late enough for the early birds to be in bed; early enough for the night owls to still be out. I also check for security cameras. None in the corridor that I can see.
I pull my head back in, shut the door, and lean against it. If I tell Leo and Ruby I didn’t do it and make an excuse, they’ll bedisappointed. More importantly, I think I might be disappointed, which shows how brainwashed I am by my stupid friends. I hate the idea of losing this challenge, especially when I’ve smashed all the others.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t believe I’m even considering this. I think it’s because every time I even think about it I get this insane rush of adrenaline that genuinely makes me shiver.
It reminds me of laser tag, which Matthew once persuaded me to try. It wasn’t something I’d considered doing before, I’d never been dying to try a game of shooting at someone with lasers while running around an indoor maze, but it was a few years ago when Matthew would organize these fun days out for us and I couldn’t really say no. When I was handed my laser gun and the teams were organized, I remember thinking that Matthew was off his rocker to have thought I might want to spend a precious Saturday doing this, but when it started, I had such a good time.
I got really into it. I was running around, ducking, hiding, pretending I was in a real-life deathly-laser-gun-fight scenario. I started yelling orders at my team members, who were genuine strangers and I’m sure probably didn’t appreciate me acting as some kind of self-appointed general, but I didn’t care. I got a major adrenaline rush.
A few months before the wedding, Matthew and I walked past the Laser Quest where we’d done that day out years previously and I brightened, pointed at it, and went, “Remember that day? It was so fun! We should do that again!”
“Maybe,” he replied, barely glancing at it. “It would be more fun in a group, though.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It would.”
That way, I could shout orders at my loving friends, rather than strangers. We could go for drinks after and it would be agreat day out with everyone. I didn’t take what he said personally. I didn’t interpret it as he would rather be in a group than alone with me. That he couldn’t picture just us two having fun.
Now I wonder if he was giving little hints like that the whole time that we both missed.
I take a deep breath, cross my arms over my body, grip the sides of my dress, pull it up over my head, and drop it into a crumpled heap on the floor. With dramatic flair, I then remove my underwear, kicking it to the side.
Right. I am officially naked. This is no big deal.
I pick up my phone andvery carefullytake a selfie of just my shoulders, neck, and face (I do not want to scar Leo for life), sticking my tongue out at the camera, and send the picture to the group.
Time for the task!
Wish me luck!
