Tightrope

The Smouldering Sex God of Weddings

"What does Lena want me to wear to this thing?" Jace asked, his voice crackling through the car speaker phone.

Against my better judgement, I'd allowed Knight to drive—after he'd revealed to me, today, that he actually had a driver's license, since his family had arranged, through rich people methods, for him to get his license in Queensland so that he'd have it early. If I wasn't one of them, I'd hate rich people.

Besides, judging by his questionable driving skills, Victoria's stricter policies were potentially a good idea.

I was going to head to Casserine with my parents; it was a long drive, and we didn't really want to spend half our savings on fuel. But when I'd realised Jace was my date, I figured that Knight would serve as a far superior awkwardness buffer. Plus, he could wait in the car throughout the wedding—which he'd volunteered for, claiming that being cooped up in a car was hardly worse than being cooped up in my wardrobe—which meant we didn't have to stay while my parents chatted up a storm with all the randoms until 3AM while Elena stressed about just wanting to get home.

It seemed Knight was only offering to keep me company, since he was still harboring secret guilt over abandoning me to Hartley, despite his general excitement over what Knight had called 'our date'. It was not a date. He was just my... companion... to a wedding.

And a bad one, at that, because it seemed likely he would have an aneurism over his wardrobe selection before he even got into the car.

"Like, does she want me to wear a suit? I don't have a suit. It's only rich people that just have suits on hand for a day of wedding invite. You know she would kill me if I messed this up, right? I don't want to die. What does she want me to wear?"

"Lena?" said Knight. "Probably a hat. Just a hat. Preferably a blue one; she digs blue."

"Knight!" I yelled at him. This proved to be a flawed idea, given he swerved slightly. Like, holy shit, I'd just badly broken my leg in a car accident, and I was starting to think that barely clocked on the radar of what Knight's driving could do to me. Man, I missed being Daria's passenger.

"Okay, okay," said Knight. "I was underdoing it with the hat thing. Jace, try a hat and socks."

"Jace!" I called out. "If you show up to this thing wearing only a hat and socks, I will cut off your balls. At least then your outfit is convenient. Easier access and whatnot."

Jace was quiet for a moment. "Definitely did not realize you were also in the car."

"Hi to you, too, sweetie," I quipped.

Jace was quiet for a moment as he came to terms with his embarrassment. Then he said, "Well, what should I wear to this thing?"

"We'll be there in a minute," said Knight, leaning slightly towards the speaker. "So I, the resident fashionista for this group, can find you a stunning outfit for the ball. I'll Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo you into the pants of every woman at this party."

"Please do not," said Jace. "That is not my fantasy super power."

"Speak for yourself," I said.

We pulled up outside Jace's house a minute later. He lived in a cute double-story townhouse in a nice area. The houses were all old in a way that was far more beautiful than the modern units being built around the state. The front yard was all carefully tended roses and neat bushes, and despite being in the suburbs, exuded a country cottage kind of energy.

It was very consistent with what I knew of Jace's parents, Rachel and Eliza. Yes, our mothers had the same name. Rachel was slightly eccentric, and a quirky cottage entirely fit her vibe. And I got the feeling that Eliza just did what Rachel wanted.