Still The One

Twenty-Seven

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.
– Robert Frost, Nothing Gold Can Stay

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Twenty-Seven
Now – June 22, 2018 ⇨ One day

The spacious main room was slovenly untidy. Iron Horse’s and hollowed Chinese takeout trays were disorderly placed amid each imaginable surface. I hurled an empty pizza box off of the couch, striving to find solace on my friend’s nasty sofa.

The blue-eyed blonde traipsed throughout his den, shirtless, fully carefree and unconcerned of me sitting in front of him. My eyes dodged their focus away from his brawny, beige back. This was one of the many perks of coming over to his place. He had no boundaries. And he was gross.

“We have to leave soon,” I sang to him, glancing at the vintage, titian watch on my ghastly wrist. We were supposed to be at the chateau at three in the afternoon, and it was already a quarter ‘till.

“I’m tryin’ to find my blazer. Have ya’ seen it?” Niall asked, savagely rummaging through the odd heap of clothing by the corner of the room.

“Since when do you wear blazers?” He never wore, or owned, anything too showy.

His answer was mumbled, but I could make out, “The second I find it.”

“We’re going to be late.”

His unnecessary delaying only added to the impatience brewing inside of me; a geyser ready to expel her woe high into the cosmos.

A few hours prior, Luke had called stating that he wouldn’t be able to make it as my date to the wedding, for he had a family engagement he was lastly confined to. His sudden cancellation kind of maddened me, but as time lunged forward, I attained that it was fine.

With his fair-haired head scoping the slipshod pile, Niall wasn’t looking at me when he said, “When does the wedding rehearsal begin?”

“Three.”

“Well, we got time, Alice – found it!” he yelled. A run-of-the-mill, white tee was thrown over his head before he nimbly jammed his arms through the raven blazer. It oddly suited him. Niall’s boyish appeal was always mesmeric, but in this, he was dressed to kill. “Let’s go.”

He drove with his pounding stereo on its most powerful volume. It restricted me from thinking too much. I stared with a murky haze out the window.

“The usher begins by handing out the programs and seating the guests,” the wedding planner instructed. Discreetly, Niall and I aimed to not interrupt the preparations by hastily treading to a vacant table.

The intimidating professional carried on her coaching by explaining the order of the events. The priest was residing by the platform. She had my best friend’s parents, Anne and Des, and his step-father, Robin, traipse down the aisle alongside Vanessa’s mum.