Page 6 of Chasing Clouds

“Juilliard,” I mumble.

Nate is five years younger than me. Right after I signed my letter of intent to play football at Syracuse University, I took Nate around to the different colleges in and near New York City, wanting to show him what life was like outside of the Bronx. I wanted him to see opportunities for another life, a better life. All he had to do was pick one thing and work hard at it, every day. When we stopped at Juilliard, he asked me if I had ever dated a girl who looked like the ones we saw there, and I said, “Not yet, but one day we both will.” Of course it was meant to be symbolic, but as I look at him now, I really take him in.

Fingering the sleeve of his suit coat, I smile. “You’re moving up in the world, kid. Looks good on you.”

“Yeah, feels good, too—but hey, so are you. I bet that new five-year contract with the Tarpons looks real pretty in your bank account.” He laughs, but I have to agree with him; it really does.

“So, who all is here with you?” I glance around, searching for a group his age but seeing mostly older people.

“From the city, it’s Beau, Leila, Ali, Drew, and Charlie.” He points toward the bar at the back left.

“Charlie—that name rings a bell.”

Nate’s eyes light up and he laughs. “You’ve signed some things for him before.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s your friend who’s like a super fan?”

“You could say that, and he’s the dude walking this way now.”

I glance over and see a tall lanky guy speed walking toward us, wearing a seersucker suit and a pink shirt, grinning from ear to ear. “Get prepared, he’s really excited to meet you.”

A groan rumbles out of my chest as I frown at Nate. “Then our first stop needs to be the bar.”

Three hours pass and more people have recognized me than I expected would. It happens everywhere I go and I understand it’s par for the course, but here at a wedding in a different state, I just wanted to spend some time with my brother and not be bothered by people wanting to get autographs and talk football all night. Kill me.

Desperately needing a moment of silence, I wander back into the house and dip into a dark empty room. I think it’s a library or a sitting room, but with houses like this, who knows.

Over and over, I was asked why I’m here and who I’m friends with. Not wanting to look like a wedding crasher, I repeated that I knew the bride, saying we’d met in New York City and hoping she’d just agree with my story if approached. After all, Nate did say she said it was okay for me to come.

Moving over to one of the bay windows, I look out across the party and search for the bride. Nate pointed her out not too long after I arrived, but she was busy being social and playing the part of bride-to-be, so she never made it over to us. I hate to admit it, but I’ve watched her throughout the night more than I should have. She’s not the type of girl I typically go for, way too proper and fancy, but there’s something about her that kept drawing my eye. Maybe it’s because she’s strikingly beautiful with her white blonde hair and porcelain doll face, or maybe it’s because if you look long enough, it’s easy to see she hates every minute of this.

I first noticed the unease through her repetition: smile, stiff hug, clasp hands in front of her, repeat. With each passing person, she’d tuck her hair behind her ear, even if it was already there, and the charade would start all over. Not one of her conversations appeared genuine, and a few times, she looked downright sad and uncomfortable.

Then again, if I had to stand next to that inattentive dick she’s been with all night, I’d be sad too. For a dude about to get married, he certainly didn’t strike me as gushing with love for his bride-to-be, but then again, what do I know. I’m never getting married.

Behind me, the door opens, quickly closes, and giggling hits my ears.

Great. Just great.

“Shh, you don’t want anyone to hear us, now do you?” asks a male voice.

“Maybe I do,” a girl replies, a little louder than I’m sure this guy wants.

There’s a brief pause and then she moans.

This. Is. Not. Happening. I scowl.

Glancing through the darkness, I try to get a glimpse of who might be in here, but from where I’m sitting, it’s just too far. I can see them, but not a whole lot of their details.

“Britt, we’ve talked about this. You know this is it, this is all I can give you, so why don’t you just stay quiet for a few minutes and let me enjoy the feel of you.”

She moans again, “Yes . . .”

They bump into something, and the sounds of them making out echo around the room. Letting out a sigh, I sit down on the window seat and lean against the wall hidden behind the long drapes. How I found myself in this situation, I don’t know, but hopefully it’ll be over quickly.

Looking back outside, I spot Nate laughing with his friends, and I can’t help the surge of pride that fills me. He’s done well for himself, looks genuinely happy, and I’m glad I came. I didn’t realize how badly I needed to know he was doing okay.

The door opens again, light streaks into the room, and this time there’s a loud gasp met with dead silence.