They sat at a picnic table under a canopy of white lights and green leaves in the far back corner far away from the wedding party. She took long drags of his vape pen as it suited her.
“How long ago?” he asked eyeing her bare and shimmered (just a bit of body glitter, nothing too ostentatious) forearm brushing his wrist bone as she placed it carefully back on the table next to his glass.
“Years,” she blew a trail of smoke in his direction, smirking.
She smirked a lot. That’s the first thing he noticed about her. Even as they stood at the ceremony watching the bride and groom recite their vows, high five each other, kiss and walk away, she had a cockeyed grin. Wearing sunglasses at the time, he couldn’t see in her eyes what he could now, but he could see those sidelong glances. Everything was done with just a twist of the neck, a movement of the lips, the upturned knowing. They ate pasta and she ordered Earl Gray and refused wine over and over covering her glass with her hand and allowing him to drink her share.
“I think it’s cool you came to the wedding,” he smiled wide showing her the large bite of sausage he had just taken.
She turned to watch her mug cool.
“There are no hard feelings between us,” she felt the edges of the mug cautiously with her fingertips. “I am happy for him.”
She finished the entire pot in under forty five minutes and joined the rest of the crowd on the dance floor. Swaying near the bar, stoned, she let the bartenders eyes befall on the stranger’s hands running up and down her hips. She tilted her chin upwards to elongate her throat costumed in sapphire and to gaze. Gaze up at the ceiling, at the lights, at the planks keeping the roof on this restaurant. She let her body undulate in slow waves. Absentmindedly, she would smile like the room was doing it to her. She would show her teeth with joy like the music moved her. Rock her legs like she was really there with all of them, really occupying that space. The groom interrupted a couple times and was gregarious and bubbly towards her, hugged her, thanked her and shook his hand. When they finally left, she hugged each of the wedding party with sincerity and warmth, gripping them for seconds. Standing back and pointing to herself, she again commented on how she matched the groomsmen; blue and cream and floral and fingered her throat to show off her jewels (the glitter on her arm popped), but made no real scene about it. She twirled once before exiting and caught two servers staring at her. The stranger left separately and met her on the corner of Kent and Metropolitan on red.
“I’m just up the street,” she said, waiting for the light to change
“It’s 1am,” he grabbed her and led her to the other side. “There’s no one out but us.”
He followed behind her a few steps after that, bumbling and he let his hand rest on her lower back as she led him two miles in platform wedges to her apartment. He complained only a couple times about the length of the walk but she quieted him by pointing to her feet.
“I’m the one in heels, dude.”
He held her hand and asked again, “How many times with the groom?”
“You don’t know?”
“I didn’t count those things,” she let go of his hand and walked hurriedly.
He took big strides to catch up immediately. She glanced back at him.
“You’re a voyeur?”
He smirked this time.
“More of a friendly psychologist.”
She took his hand and turned the corner sharply.
“It was an on and off thing but mostly friendship.”
“”What does that mean?”
She led him to an unlit stoop.
“I once came to twirling in a pool in a prom dress on ecstasy in the arms of a man I was not dating nor ever planning to date.”
He stood at the bottom of the step watching her walk up.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Now on the porch she reached into her slim silver pocketbook to grab two silver keys on a simple silver ring and approached the door.
“I think it does,” she said unlocking the knob without turning around. “Come now and be quiet. I think my neighbors are sleeping.”
He hopped up each step with precision, without missing a step or falling.
“Your wish is my command.”