We Go Down (Bremmy 2)

Chapterish 73

Who else loves Trix & Travis day?! Reception is coming up!! What's going to go down?! Shoot your ideas here. I'd love to hear them.

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RECEPTION

You know when you think about your ultimate favorite movie or the best book you've ever read? The one you couldn't put down? It's like you get a feeling you can't help but yearn for, to succumb to. The familiarity is the drug that keeps you coming back for more.

That's how I should feel, and for the most part it is how I do feel.

I mean, I have met so so many people in life –in college and post-college. In actual adulthood. But no matter how many pseudo-friends I have collected over the years, I still have my top-shelf –the shelf I put people on long ago and somewhere along the way decided to never remove. They're glued to the shelf and that's where they'll die.

I could live and die by half this bridal party right now.

Trix, my best best since the indoor snow angels and birthday forts.

Meg, the basic bitch that can literally get on with anything I do.

Travis, the best guy friend I ever had that actually stayed a friend.

Alex, a boy who offers me his genuine self without needing to.

Brooks, the worst and best of all.

I'll even cram Brody and Lauren onto the shelf.

That's why, as we line up for post-ceremony photos, I'm baffled by how strange these people feel. All the sudden, it's not like I'm watching my favorite film or reading my comfort book anymore. It's like I'm realizing the movie lowkey sucks.

And so we line up for pictures and it quite feels like I'm lining up for the rest of my life –the rest of what I can expect my life to be. Standing between friends, smiling apathetically, all while pretending it's where I want to be.

My casual apathy is not lost on me, or unappreciated. I enjoy it. I enjoy what it means. Infinite finality.

Brooks and I wrote one hell of a story. Spanning a decade. Spanning versions of ourselves. You could even argue it had all the hallmarks of a great story, right down to the tragic ending. I've always been a sucker for the unhappily ever afters.

Even still, as beautiful and broken Brooks stands beside me, I can't help but think maybe Disney is onto something. The butterflies are still there; they still swarm when his forearm grazes my shoulder, as he tucks his hair behind his ear. It's just an angry swarm.

...

It's a balmy heat now that clings to my sun-kissed skin like some unyielding foe. Long gone are the stolen cliffside moments with secret kisses and the calming breeze of the sea.

Long gone is a lot.

Like my ability to erase the smile that's been plastered on my face for the last 30 minutes. My cheeks are numb.

Once pictures are done, we are promptly ushered off towards the reception staging area. I step carefully across the sodden sandy grass, my heels steady beneath my feet. I can already hear the light beat of music and clinking of champagne glasses somewhere behind the nearest cluster of palm trees.

I sneak around the side of the group and slink my arm through Trix's, falling into step beside her.

"Bitch, you're married." I playfully nudge her side with my elbow. "Honestly, mind blown."

"Stop!" She giggles and tosses her head back in a way that's only endearing when she does it. A tiny glare from Travis's brow ring flickers across Trix's cheek. And I kiss her right on top of it.

"Now give me a drink," I nod.

"Me too!" Nate waltzes right past us and heads directly for the boujee champagne cart.

"He's still drunk," Meg sighs, eyes rolling.

"I'm amazed he's walking, to be fair." I eye roll.

"You and me both. Damn, look at this spread."

Meg stops right in front of a large wooden wall that's set up with shelves and shelves of some pink, fruity looking drink. Cherry fizz flashbacks from Tenfire? 100%

"Our signature drink," Trix says, taking the first drink that the server starts passing out.

A glass is thrust into my hand, and I bring the rim to my lips, instantly intoxicated my mint and watermelon and rum.

"T&T Mojito!" Trix exclaims! "Isn't it delicious?"

She's already chugging down her first glass but taking extra care to hold it away from her white dress. No mishaps.

"Ok, wedding party right this way!" I hear someone shout over the music.

We cross the walkway. Sunlight flickers through the palm canopy and dances over the stones. We enter the reception together, as the hot-ass bridal party we are. No glitz. No over-the-top millennial entrance like all the nonsense you see nowadays.

The first thing I notice is the life size illuminated L on the center table. Strategically placed down the table, I spot the O, V, and E, all glimmering incandescent gold.

We missed most of the cocktail hour, thanks to taking pictures and almost everyone is already sitting at their rounded tables. We take our seats at the head table. I wedge myself nice and cozy between Trix and Meg. My eyes fall to the driftwood and beachgrass centerpiece that's running the entire length of the table.

Big speeches never really do it for me. They always seem ingenuine or too movie-like. I don't want to try so hard to prove that Trix and Travis are in love. In fact, less words are better words. More powerful. At least this is what I tell myself as I step up and take the cordless mic that Nate's (drunkenly) passing into my hand like a relay baton.

I black out. Or at least I think I do.

I don't remember much of the speech. I only remember staring at Trix, squeezing the microphone for dear life, and doing everything in my power to avoid Brooks's gaze. I spoke of T&T's nauseating love fest and their best-friendship. Reminisced about how I was there for their first kiss –how almost everyone else in the bridal party was too.

People clapped, so I suppose it was a swoon-worthy speech.

Next up is the first dance.

I recognize the song from the first few beats, before Trix and Travis even make it to the center of the dance floor. Ed Sheeran's Perfect couldn't be more perfect. Not for them at least. Like every other guest at this wedding, I'm staring directly at the twirling duo –at the way Trix spins so effortlessly in her heels, at the way Travis holds her tight.

As tight as I'm holding my glass.

Meg and I refill our champagne coupes with the spare bottle left in the ice bucket on our head table. I refill mine again. All the champagne in France is not enough champagne for this wedding.