I have a problem. A very simple, easy, miniscule problem that can be solved. I don’t want to believe it can’t. Standing right in front of me is the the man who has played groom to my every fantasy. The man who I have dreamed about, who I have pined over, the man who is about to marry someone else. I have known him for almost a decade, his smile never failing to send shivers down my spine.  While the other girls in my school were fawning over musicians and footballers, I was madly in love with a chemistry major. Even now just looking at his easy smile, the way he leans comfortably back into his seat, legs folded with a subtle confidence, my heart begins to race. It's a wonder I’m not openly gaping at him. 

Unfortunately, sitting next to him is a petite redhead with beautiful legs and sharp green eyes. She has a pinched smile that makes me squirm, wishing I could produce something so charming and seductive. Her beauty is obvious, and she wears it upon her sleeve with pride. 

She isn’t my problem, though, I’m starting to wish she was. 

My issue, that doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon, is that they have just asked me to give a reading from my novel. For their wedding.

I let my coffee cool in my hands while I wait for the tension in the room to ease. The expectation is utterly stifling. Dad looks at me from across the room and I give him a look of pure panic. I want to say no. And I have so many good excuses too! I’m working on my second novel, I have book readings, and interviews. I know this would mean the world to them, I know Brent would be eternally grateful and Joy would have her perfect wedding. Guilt washes over me and I know I’m going to give. I hate myself for it.

Dad waves his hand for me to hurry it up. Brent was his apprentice through highschool and college. Not to mention his best friend. Brent had gotten my number from him, and it was my dad who suggested Brent come to dinner at my house so he could ask. I want to believe that my dad had no clue what they would be asking, but thats hoping for too much. Brent talks to my dad more than I do. 

“You must have the time. We'll even change the date of the wedding!” Her voice is haughty and dry, with an undercurrent of pure self-pity. She gives me a look like she is trying to act strong. The poor thing, having to change the date of her wedding with the most wonderful man because the evil author can’t do a quick reading. I look into my coffee, greasy swirls snaking into cylindrical orbs, internally yelling at myself once more before I respond.  

“Yes, okay. I’ll do a reading at your wedding, ” Joy gives me a hot pink smirk before placing her hands on Brent’s arm. She strokes his bicep like a dog. I want to throw up. 

“Wonderful! I will send you all the information and than we can talk about the section I must have. I may have some revisions...,” Brent gives her a wary smile, patting her hands. He looks vaguely uncomfortable. My stomach twists at the thought, and I have the sudden desire to begin writing it down. Hero forced, no... blackmailed into marrying an evil woman. Heroine comes to the rescue. Maybe I could make this the theme of my sequel... It takes a wonderful second before Joy’s words finally sink in, I had been lost in the intoxicating wonder of muse. 

“I’m afraid I can’t change anything,” I stumble, my words crashing as my mind blares a 'Threat of Awkwardness' warning I haven’t seen since college. Joy scoffs and flips her bright red hair. She gives me a wink before scolding, “Yes you can! It is your novel,” 

Brent, who had been staring off in the distance for the majority of this exchange, now looked over at his fiance, leaning in close as he spoke, “Let’s plan this all later, honey.” 

Dad looks over at me with wide eyes, a grimace plastered to his face as he tries to project his discomfort to me. He doesn’t handle these situations very well, he never has. I still remember the day I was asked out by a guy in junior year. His name was Joshua Falls, he came to my house with bouquet of blue lilacs, a poster, and a wide confident smile to go along with his slicked back hair. 

I told him no, quick, like ripping a bandaid off, while also ensuring I was careful and sweet. His face made it seem like I had yanked off a cast. His eyes got red and he ran away, back to his car where his mom was waiting to drive him away. I can’t be sure, but I’m pretty sure Mrs. Falls gave me the finger as she drove past. When I closed the front door and turned around, I found my parents looking over my shoulder, eyes wide as they looked from me to the car speeding down Wycress Lane. My father had the exact look he had then as he does now.

“Actually, I should probably email my editor just in case,” I walk from the living room as fast as I can without sprinting, patting my father comfortingly on the head before I make it to the kitchens. I looked through my purse until I find my calendar, and then spent some more time fake rummaging. I decided to give myself ten minutes to relax before going back in, they couldn’t see me from the living room, so there was no threat of my being seen. 

The dishes were still on the table so I decided to clean them up with my self anointed break time. Dad would keep conversation going while I was gone. I scrub off the remnants of marinara sauce and the crumbs of parmesan bread. I note with disgust that Joy barely touched her lasagna, leaving the noodles and meat alone and devouring the tomato sauce. Dinner had been pleasant. There hadn’t been much to talk about, so dad and Brent kept the conversation going. I asked my customary questions that never seem to die out and she replied with long explanations. 

While I put the last plate in the dishwasher, my phone glares at me from the counter. It would only take one email. An email that I could pretend to send and later come up with an excuse. Maybe I could print up a fake contract saying I can’t do weddings. I could call Nina at the library and have her print me up several copies...

I know I can’t do that. I owe it to Brent. He had helped me in college when I was drowning in stress, he had given me advice on getting a job, internships, everything. He was there when I needed a ride to my first job, and when mom broke her ankle and I was stuck at my dentist appointment. It's been years since we’ve spoken by that doesn’t erase all that he has done for me and my family. 

I quickly send Kelsie an email about setting up a meeting tomorrow and toss my phone back on the counter. With one deep breath in and out I turn toward the kitchen door, steeling myself. Only instead of my lonely wooden door, there is Brent looking at me, eyes wide, his sly grin curving up his lips. He is one of the rare ones. The type whose smile tells a tale. One full of intrigue and possibility. One that makes you want to lean in, just a little bit closer…. Unless they are about to be married. And he is, I saw her ring, it was huge. A small smile tugs at my own mouth when I think of her picking it out, there was no way Brent had picked it out. Even in high school he flinched whenever he had to spend more than twenty dollars on anything. He scowled the whole day after he bought his first car, lamenting on everything he could’ve bought. 

“Oh, hi, just sent it!” I held my phone in the air triumphantly before heading to the door.When I walked passed Brent he put his hand on my arm. I flinched as I looked up at him. He smelled of cinnamon and work, with an odd spice to go along with it. I could see a slight stumble under his chin, and he had dark circles ringing his eyes. Those deep eyes, as dark as midnight. I sound so cheesy! Hundreds of writers have tried to compare the human eyes, they have called them the windows to the soul, deep pools to unwittingly fall into, clear skies that sung of fairy tales. I can’t describe his eyes, because everything has already been said. They were quite simply his.

“Hey, wait a second, Si,” Flinching, I looked up in those very eyes. He had leaned down, and my eyes went to his mouth, lips parted as he waited for me to respond. Maybe if he didn’t lean down so close, he wouldn’t have to wait for me to respond. Maybe if he was anyone else my words would come fluidly, instead of the crackling mess of choking and whisper I seemed to be producing.

“What's up?” He let go of my arm at my unintentionally harsh tone, goosebumps rising in his absence. He ran a hand through his hair, making the ends stick up slightly. In the dim kitchen lighting, his hair seemed to be streaked in deep mahogany. 

“Listen, I’m really sorry if we put you on the spot. We know your busy, we really do,” His cool tone brought me back to the present, and my obvious discomfort about his wedding. I might have felt guiltier if he hadn’t been using we with such familiarity.

“I know that and I would like to help, I really would, I just checked my emailed my editor and… lets find a date!,” His brow furrowed as he looked over my face, which I kept slightly eager,as if I really wanted to read at his wedding. From my novel, that I vaguely wrote for him. 

“This means everything, Si,” He smiled, showing off slightly crooked teeth. There was a brief moment when we stared at each other, our chest rising in unison. I began to say something, I'm not entirely sure what, but before I could he leaned back into the door and held it open for me. 

Heart pounding, I walked past him. I thought of nothing as I walked past. Not how great he looked or the fire burning deep in my chest. I would do this, for him. Not for Joy, but for Brent Lorne, my hopeless, idealistic, mad crush.