Thanks for Skipping Dress Day

Laughter burst out inside.

My fingers curled tight.

"Don't start," Norah cut in, soft and perfectly timed. "We're just mentor and mentee. Don't say stuff like that. What if Bella gets the wrong idea?"

"The wrong idea? We all see how close you are."

"Yeah. Skeet, what do you think?"

A beat of silence.

Then Skeet, easy and lazy—

"What is there to say? Drink."

He didn't deny it.

Which meant he accepted it.

The laughter got louder. Someone teased,

"Alright, alright, we'll drop it. Norah, pour your mentor a drink—"

Norah laughed softly.

Through the door, I could almost see it—that perfectly timed shy look.

My chest tightened.

Then slowly eased.

I should've seen it sooner.

The late-night "overtime."

The sweet edge in her voice notes.

The flicker in his eyes when he looked at her.

And that time—

The perfume on his collar.

Not mine.

Not his either.

When I asked, he said they'd sat close in a meeting. Picked it up from some coworker.

I believed him.

Seven years. From a crappy rental to a place of our own—I thought I knew him better than anyone.

Turns out, that was just me thinking.

A voice cut through from inside.

"Oh right, Skeet—I got Bella's wedding invite. Next Saturday? You actually showing up as the groom?"

Skeet said nothing.

The room went quiet for a few seconds.

Then someone asked, low, "So... is the wedding even happening?"

Another scoffed. "Happening? They've been together seven years and didn't marry. Now suddenly it's on? You buy that? I don't. Seriously—at her age, she's still trying to pressure him? Why do that to herself?"

"Exactly. She'll be thirty next year, right? How's she supposed to compete with Norah? Young, pretty—"

"Enough."

Skeet finally spoke, but it wasn't sharp.

The guy laughed. "Alright, alright, no more Bella. Let's talk about Norah. She's way better. That face, that body..."

I stopped listening.

I asked the building supervisor to give Skeet the bank card, then turned and left.

***

Third Person POV

The next day—wedding day.

Skeet didn't even know why he woke up early, threw on his custom suit, and drove over.

Outside The Grand Marlowe, the air buzzed like a party already in full swing.

A smile tugged at his lips.

'Fine. If the vibe's this good, I'll go through with it.'

He straightened his bow tie.

Then—thunderous applause from inside.

His heart stuttered. He rushed forward and shoved the door open—just in time to see the stage.

The emcee's voice blasted through the speakers.

"The moment you've all been waiting for!"