Fire

Race with the Devil

You're guided to be seated in anticipation of the couple arriving with their respective parties.

The suited and booted groom and his party arrive, which includes your mirror friend. He's the youngest in their lineup but not the best man. Instead, he's the ring bearer. No wonder he was stressed out.

The bride and bridesmaids arrive, and they all look so wonderful in their dresses, perfectly styled hair and makeup, and flowers.

The ceremony plays through, but your thoughts are elsewhere. You remember sitting with Trent in his car and making plans like this, what flowers you'd have, what the colour themes would be in everyone's clothing. You remember thinking how lucky you were to have a boyfriend so interested in all these things. Most guys couldn't care less. He even had picked out designers for your rings and the woodland-themed centrepieces because it was in the woods at summer camp you first kissed. He was so thoughtful like that.

How quickly this enthusiasm disappeared once he was somewhere not as restrictive as Hawkins. It made you think how tunnel-visioned this place must be to make someone change in over a week.

You feel a nudge in the ribs from your mom, "Stop Daydreaming and stand up", she chuckles quietly.

"Oh, sorry." You say becoming part of the present once more and stand up to watch the wedded couple and their parties leave, and you could follow suit.

There was no wedding breakfast, but there would be a pause in festivities so the wedding reception area could be set up. So you take the opportunity to take a smoke break back at your car. Your parents are happy enough to mingle with people you don't know.

You get in your car and grab your purse, carefully unwrapping the lavender handkerchief. Your eyes flit between the regular cigarettes and those with a little extra. You opt for the latter and search for a little hiding spot outside. Smoking it in the car would make it impossible to mask the smell of weed, but outdoors You might stand a better chance.

A little way from the parking lot, you find some tree stumps by a stream that looks perfect. You grab your things and make a beeline for the stump furthest away from the cars and grounds.

It is so peaceful here, the stream gently rippling away in the darkness, the faint sounds of birds in the distance, and simply turning your back on the event to just focus on the nature in front of you. Incredible.

You reach into your purse and carefully take out a joint, which you are thankful at this point isn't saturated with lavender. You light it up with the Zippo and inhale...

The dryness of the whole experience makes you violently start coughing. They had been in there a good while, you think to yourself, but no matter, you just had to relax, readjust, and you could continue your smoke. You just had to be more careful. You look around, and thankfully you haven't attracted any attention, so you relax a little further and watch a few creatures skittering about by the water's edge.

"So that's why she's wearing green", a voice chuckles behind you. You try to hide the joint in your hands, even though it is probably pointless to do so at this range.

You turn to find the voice. It's Bruce.

"Busted," you say with an awkward smile.

"Ah, don't worry about it, I was just trying to find you in there to say thank you and bring you these," he hands you the bobby pin and a champagne flute with orange juice in, "They were pretty quick to point me to the ones without alcohol in" he smiles.

You take the items from him and observe that the rebel curl was still behaving, despite the pin no longer restraining it.

You offer him the joint, "As a thank you for the drink, because heaven knows I needed one."