For greadsfic
"Gotta love weddings, huh?"
Bradley jerks his head up at the unexpected intrusion. He'd come out to the garden, fully expecting to be left to his own devices after he'd asked his sister to stand up in front of all the guests who'd been waiting and announce that the wedding was off.
Darting outside, via a side door, he knew he wouldn't be able to withstand the sympathetic looks and the inevitable whispers of, "poor bastard," he was certain to get. Everything was already royally fucked; the very last thing he needed was pity on top of it.
The voice turns out to belong to a petite blonde who's simultaneously smoking and thumbing through her phone. When she speaks to him, her eyes meet his own and they're the most unusual shade of hazel he's ever seen on a person.
"Uh, yeah. I guess," he manages to find his voice.
"Truthfully? I find them boring as fuck. Typically, I mean. Half the time, you barely know anyone, including the actual couple getting married and then you're sitting with more people you don't know, forced to make conversation and then you're served a sub par dinner, topped off by dry ass cake. The DJ sucks, the band plays the Top 40 from 1998 and you count the hours until it's socially acceptable to leave. Unless, there's an open bar. Then it's slightly better. Drink till it's fun, right? Alas...with this one, we'll never know."
At the mention, his chest tightens and automatically, he loosens his tie, even though it's already been unknotted.
"Yeah, this wasn't your typical wedding, I guess."
"No shit. Under normal circumstances, the whole drama unfolding would at least liven things up, but..."
She shakes her head, flicking ash into the adjoining can. "It's awful." Leaning in, she whispers conspiratorially, "I heard the groom walked in on the bride going down on the best man. That's why the wedding got called off. Did you hear that, too? I feel for the poor guy. What a shitty surprise."
Taking another drag off of the cigarette, she shrugs. "It's kind of a blessing in disguise, though, if you think about it, right? At least he found out before he married her."
"That's a good way of looking at it," Bradley offers meekly. "Probably doesn't make it any less traumatizing..."
"No," she agrees, "probably not." Thinking, she eyes him questioningly. "Do you know him well, the groom? Or were you here for the bride, in which case, I probably ran my mouth off. I have a tendency to do that sometimes."
He watches her wait for his response, but like before, it's while doing other tasks; studying her nails, fixing the chiffon skirt of the plum colored dress she's wearing. Without knowing a single thing about her, Bradley can tell that she has a hard time staying still. Not so much manic energy, per say, more like there was constantly a hundred things she was itching to do, so she did them all at once.
One of the things he prided himself on was his ability to read others, to understand their thought processes. He was good at it.
Or, at least he used to be.
"I know the groom."
"Oh, shit," her already big eyes go wider. "Is he doing okay? Have you gotten to speak to him?"
"I don't know how he feels, actually. Mostly numb. Stupid for not seeing this coming. Really fucking humiliated."
She covers her mouth, "fuck me...it's you, isn't it?"
"That's me."
He holds out a hand. "Bradley."
It takes a second before she recovers, taking the extended hand and giving it a shake. Hers is warm.
