the night we met | h.s

seven

She asked me to put flowers in her hair the way I did when we were eighteen at our senior prom. She picked out white baby's breath and I delicately placed each bunch in between the strands of her golden blonde hair. The lace of her dress dipped down her spine and her painted nails matched the white fabric. Her eyelashes were covered with a coat of mascara and her ocean blue eyes reflected the sunlight seeping through the translucent curtains.

My strapless blush pink dress hugged my waist and flowed freely to the floor, causing me to almost trip with every step I took. My white nail polish that was planned to match the bride next to me was already chipped and my heels were giving me blisters. The two braids crowning my hair were starting to fall out and the light brown curls were starting to become loose.

The chatter of the room was beginning to give me a headache and the debate between who got which bouquet seemed pointless. I tried to convince the group to not drink champagne before the ceremony but when they handed me a glass I didn't object. I told them I would go check on the guests and they didn't even bat an eye.

I closed the door behind me and let out a sigh of relief, happy I got away from the hyper bridesmaids and even more hyperactive bride. I leaned against the wall and let my fake smile slip away. I heard violin music playing in the commons and the calm chatter of the people around us. The cool breeze flowing through the chapel calmed my nerves and the soft fabric running through my fingers eased my mind.

Then suddenly the groom of the wedding appeared in front of me and it hurt more than I expected. His blond hair was combed neatly and his body was adorned in a black and white suit. His mauve colored tie matched my dress and I couldn't help but laugh at the fact that he was forced to wear a pink tie. He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet nodding toward the closed door.

"How is she?" He questioned as if maybe she had come down with a severe case of cancer in the last twenty four hours. He looked worried and it was sweet to see him genuinely care about her.

"She's good. She's a little nervous but its her wedding day, she's bound to be a little nervous." I explained, attempting to make him feel calm for the upcoming events.

He nodded his head mumbling a 'good' before staring down at the floor. I could feel the tension radiating off of him and it didn't make me feel any better. My eyes stayed trained on my fingers playing with the material of my dress and watching my rings catch the light.

"Listen Scarlett-"

And I cut him off because I knew what he was about to say and I was tired of hearing it. "No Brandon I don't want to hear it. You're happy with her and I'm fine with that. You made your choice."

I was telling the biggest lie I could muster but it always seemed to work seeing that he only nodded his head again and turned around. But before he walked away he turned his head and his voice called out. "By the way could you tie one of my groomsmens ties? Apparently none of us know how to."

I chuckled at his words and followed him obligingly towards the groom and groomsmen dressing room. He opened the door and the smell of cologne hit me like a truck making me wonder if I'd ever gain my sense of smell back. When Brandon moved out of my way his green eyes were the first thing I noticed. They reminded me of the grass on a summer day or the leaves during the spring. They reminded me of the possible dark green shade they can turn after a kiss because those eyes were Harry's.

"Scarlett?" His voice was wipsy and breathless and almost as if he didn't believe it was me. His eyes trailed down my dress and mine only lingered on his pink lips. He gave me a smile when our eyes met and all I could feel were the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.