To Have and To Hold

Chapitre Cinq

"You heading out?" Jasmine caught me just as I hauled open the storage room door, finding all of the bridesmaids' coats stacked neatly against the wall. I saw mine, a deep maroon color, in the very corner.

"Yeah," I said, reaching for it. My purse was still tucked underneath it. "I'm kind of all partied out."

"Well," she drew the word out, leaning against the door jamb. "Get ready, because in two weeks, you've got another."

I forced a smile to my lips, straightening. The thought sent a flash of nerves through my stomach, for more reasons than one. "And next time, I've got a speech."

"Perks of being the old maid," she reached her hand out, her nails clacking together. "Toss me mine. Lincoln and I are gonna bounce, too."

"Are you going back to the apartment?"

Jasmine shook her head, pulling her pink jacket from me. She maintained eye contact as she tugged it over her arms, a great combination with the lime green gown. "No, I'm going back to his."

We both came from the storage at the same time, and my eyes immediately scanned the area, but came up with no sign of him. Something in me twisted, and a thought ran through my mind. What if he left?

"I'll be home probably around three tomorrow. He wants to get breakfast at Ceph's."

Ceph's was a bistro/café/restaurant/bookstore that our merry band of friends frequented a lot. Usually she'd invite me, but lately I've been hanging back from their outings. Too much wedding talk was in the air.

I pulled my own jacket on. "Sounds good."

"Hey." Jasmine caught ahold of my arm, the one hanging out of the sleeve. "Tomorrow, do you want to go shopping? Just us?"

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Why? Need more lingerie?"

"No," she laughed, pushing me. "But it's always fun to have some new ones. We'll buy you some."

"For what guy?"

"You don't need a guy to buy lingerie," she said. "Or maybe just a new bra and panty set. With lace. I mean, why not feel pretty for yourself?"

"Did you just say 'panty'?"

"Shut up. I'll see you tomorrow," she said again, and we moved out of the room. "Shopping. You and me. Three o'clock."

"Be there or be square." I looked around for Jeremiah again, and spotted him, finally. He was taking a picture at one of the centerpieces, the one sprawled in the most shadowy area of the barn. He glanced up, eyes catching mine for a brief moment before flitting away. My mouth was moving before I knew what I was saying. "See that guy over there?"

Jasmine looked. And I knew the exact moment she saw him; one eyebrow tipped higher, and I saw the corner of her mouth tighten into a half-smile. "Oh, he's cute. I didn't think glasses was your type, Alice."

"I don't have a type," I told her, buttoning up my jacket and fighting off the defensiveness. This was kind of like every other time we've spotted a cute guy together. Jasmine—or Annabeth—would urge me to walk up and start a conversation, and my face would heat up like a roasted tomato. Seriously. Like I'd said before, I so wasn't outgoing. But right now, my face didn't feel hot, my stomach didn't feel hollow, and my knees felt sturdy and steady.

I wanted to tell her "I made a wish on my wedding cake and he magically appeared" but like with Annabeth, I kept quiet.

We'd been watching him, so when his eyes darted to us and then away, Jasmine caught it. "He's totally checking you out," she hissed. "Go up and say hi. Seriously. Tell him you dig his glasses."

"I dig them?" I asked.

"You do," she said. "You definitely do. Now go." Jasmine pushed at me again, and I felt my bare feet slide against the floor. "Let that champagne in your system carry you to the moon. And over to that guy. Now shoo."

Jeremiah started to fiddle with his camera, but I could see how straight his spine was, how attune he was to our eyes on him, like he could feel them. "So I tell him that I dig his glasses?"

"God. We need to teach you more about flirting. Yes, tell him you dig his glasses. And his cute camera. Maybe you and him could have a photoshoot." She winked at me.

Yeah, the part about my face not being hot? Scratch that out.

"Text me in the morning," Jasmine said, and began to turn away. "Every. Word."

My feet carried me across the floor. I felt nervous, now, since I'd told Jasmine. As now everything was in motion, and there was no turning back.

And there wasn't.

Jeremiah looked up as I approached, blinking. He was in the process of capping his camera lens, teeth worrying at the corner of his lip. "Hi."

I said, with as much confidence as I could muster, "I dig your glasses." Immediately my face flushed. Stupid.

His teeth moved from his lip to split into a wide grin, and it touched his eyes in a way that no longer left them just brown. They were a light almond filled with streaks of happiness like it was living inside, immovable. Those eyes—I could get used to those eyes.

Jeremiah said, with amusement, "Your friend told you to say that, didn't she?"

"I do, though," I insisted, also insisting on dragging out my self-torture. "I like how they're black at the top but clear on the bottom. How they border your eyes, like little picture frames." And now my face was on fire. My mouth was stupid. My tongue was stupid. I was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He reached up and scratched his eyebrow with that ringed finger. He was still smiling up at me. He opened his mouth to say something, and then must've thought better of it; he shut it. And then—in a rush— "Has anyone ever told you about your mouth?" he asked.

"My mouth?"

"Mmm." He got to his feet, bringing his camera with him. I realized that his fingers hardly ever left his camera; touching the metal brought him comfort. He moved his finger along the side of my lips in a ghost touch, light and barely there. I froze, and my breathing ceased. "Your bottom lip is bigger than the upper, but it curves outward at the corner of your mouth. And one side, when you smile, has this crease that's no bigger than the end of my pinky nail." His hand fell away from me, and he rocked on his heels. "I dig that."

And he was someone. Not like all the other boys, who were nobodies in a crowd, pretty but empty. Whose hair was perfect and whose smile was perfect, as if someone had chiseled them from stone. He was someone, and I'd do anything to make this moment last. "I want coffee," I blurted quickly, randomly, even though I wasn't really craving caffeine. I was just craving more time with him, this stranger with a camera and beautiful eyes. "D-Do you?"

Jeremiah put his camera strap around his neck. "Coffee," he said, holding out his hand, waiting for me to take it. "Sounds great."

Do what you suck at for once—be fun. Jasmine's words echoed in my head, and even though I barely knew this boy, I found myself slipping my hand in his anyway.