We Go Down (Bremmy 2)

Chapterish 33

BACK BAY RETREAT

Back Bay is different tonight. Sure, it's still hazy and lazy, but not from the stagnant summer heat. Mainly from the pot smoke. Among other extra-curriculars.

Really the tension is heightened –palpable. Everyone loves a good wedding. Everyone loves an endearing bride and chillaxed groom. What more could you want being in a wedding party?

Still, Back Bay is different tonight. It's filled with couples. Actual couples. It's the same group from the mountain weekend mostly. Plus a few extras. Some cousins and extended family on both Trix and Travis's side.

Really, I'm not entirely sure what the night is for, considering the Poconos weekend was the pre-wedding party. This is the post-pre-wedding party? So what's that make the sun-soaked Caribbean week we're about to hit?

Everyone takes their normal spots, falling into the years' old routine again like usual. Trix and Trav stretch out on the tiny loveseat in the back patio. Meg and Nate are causal and cool, never about the PDA.

I realize Brooks and I are somewhere in the middle of the other two couples. Suppose lately we've been giving Trix and Travis a run for their money. I smile thinking this.

Brooks sits on the floor in front of my spot on the couch. His head tilts back against the spot between my knees. I catch flashes of his perfectly pearly teeth. Swoon city.

I'm happy to have him there. Makes me want to keep him there, preferably without clothes on. More on that later.

The night burns like a slow candle. Sure, there's drinking and casual drug use (I mean, pot is like legal now), but it's all so adult. Compared to the beach bonfires and Sandbar nights from the summer, we are positively old and dead now.

Tonight we drink for something to do.

I'm so used to holding a red plastic cup at Back Bay that I almost think it'd feel weird sitting on the deck without one. I think my hand would fall off my arm.

Trix babbles on about the couples walking down the aisles together. Basically, it's all the real couples anyway. Well, we're mixed up a bit. 

"Emmy don't forget you're with Nate," Trix says for the 1000th time. Sticking out her tongue at Meg, "Sorry boo, you're stuck with him."

"I resent that." Brooks laughs.

"I'm happy to trade," Meg jokes. She wrinkles her nose at Nate.

"Least we'll be the best looking couple," Nate says, eyes locking on mine. "Behind the bride and groom."

Trix smirks.

I roll my eyes and slink off my spot on the couch (OK, fine my spot on Brooks's lap).

I navigate through the crowd, avoiding the counter top laden with appetizers, and walk on to the deck. It's empty –one of the many reasons I find it inviting.

I flip my hair over my shoulder and reach for the keg.

What is wrong with me?

My best friend since childhood –two of them, really –are getting married. FINALLY. And I'm part of it –a huge part of it. We all are. Everything is as it should be. Everything is so –normal.

And that feels abnormal.

I shake the thought. Not tonight, Em.

"Hey, you," Alex says, standing next to me.

He reaches out and pumps the keg to fill his cup.

"And you," I nod.

"Needed some fresh wedding-free air?" He jokes.