Bouquet Toss (8 page)

“Are you going to talk to him?”

“I don’t think I can handle it, Elise,”

I glance back at him for just a second. In that moment, our eyes meet.  The corners of his lips twist a bit in recognition as he nods his head slightly towards me.

“What the hell was that?” Elise asks.

“You saw it, too?” I ask, focusing back on Elise, “I have no idea what to do. I feel like I’m going to have an anxiety attack right here in the middle of the freaking bar.”

“He’s still staring at you, Daph.  He’s being really obvious about it, too.”

“Are you serious?”  My heart is racing, but instead of anxiety, excitement is building slowly in the pit of my stomach. He’s staring at me.  This is a good thing.

“Dead serious.” Elise nods.  “You need to look at him.  Come on, see for yourself.”

With that, I slowly turn my gaze towards Mayson.  He smiles as if proud of himself.  Our eyes lock for what feels like several minutes. 

“Go over there,” Elise insists, nudging my arm.

“No way, if he wants to play games with me, I can do that.  I’m not giving him control.  Who knows how long he’s been back on campus.  No calls, no emails.  So, now, I will wait and see.  I’ll wait to see how he’ll proceed.”  As I finish talking, Mayson slowly raises his beer towards me, winking.  I raise mine in reply and give him a smug smile.

He nudges his friend and walks over towards me.  My mouth is suddenly bone dry. I’ve won our little game, but now I have no idea what to say.  I wonder if I’ll even be able to speak. 

“Hey there, Puddin’.” 

When we were together, I always teased him about his
South Carolina
accent.  It is thick tonight. I can tell he has had quite a bit to drink already.  Buzzed or not, I’m thrown by his affectionate tone.  I hadn’t expected to ever hear that nickname again after our break-up.  Even though we’d attempted to maintain a “friendship”, that friendship was incredibly one-sided.  Over this past year, most of my emails to
France
had gone unanswered…and the ones I did receive were distant and cold.  It was only when we chatted online that things were warmer, like they were when we were together.

“Well, if it isn’t the world traveler?” I say, trying my very best to sound casual, easy, although my hands are shaking, as are my words.  Too many conflicting thoughts are racing through my confused brain.  “How was
France
?  I didn’t realize you’d be back so soon.”

“Yeah, we finished up a few days ago.  Administration insisted we arrive back in time for convocation.  Can you believe we’re done here?  In a couple of days we have to join the real world,” he declares with that sexy grin of his.  God, I love him.  Despite everything, I cannot deny how he makes me feel. 

“So, will you be headed back to
South Carolina
?”

“Yep.  But, I’ve sent resumes all over the country, especially to the
Denver
area.  You know how I love to ski.  I always imagined that’s where I’d live.  How about you, Daphne?  Where are you headed?”

“Back home to
Chicago
.  I’m going to live with my parents until I hopefully start teaching in the fall.  I haven’t found anything yet, but I’m trying not to worry.”

“Oh, you’ll find something,” he assures me.  I suddenly realize that Mayson is making his way closer to me by the second.   Soon, I’ll be able to feel his breath on my skin and I’m looking forward to it.  I tilt my head in order to be even closer to this boy I’ve missed for so very long, concern and hesitation be damned.

“So,” he continues, “You want to go somewhere less crowded?  You know, for old time’s sake?” 

“Sure, why not?”  I answer, giving him the most confident smile I can possibly muster.  Secretly, I wonder how much of our encounter has already been fueled by alcohol.  After all, I can hear it in his drawl and I can smell it on his breath.

We walk, hand in hand, back to his apartment on
Green Street
.  The entire walk there, we talk about his months spent in
France
.  I’ve always wanted to go overseas and Mayson is enjoying my enthusiasm.  He tells me all about the gorgeous buildings that have been there for centuries, the amazing museums and the incredible culture.  Completely fascinated, I find myself hanging on his every syllable.

Back at his apartment, we slip back into old routines very quickly.  Snuggling up in his bed, he twirls my hair around his fingers.  Rubbing my hands softly on his bare chest, my heart races and adrenaline courses through me.  It feels incredible.

“I missed you, you know,” he whispers softly.  His heart is pounding.  I can feel it through his shirt.

“Yeah, me too.  You were so far away this year.”

“No, I mean, I’ve missed you since, you know, since we broke up.”

“Really, you did?”  I sit up with a start.  “Then, why…?” I’m unable to finish the sentence.  I just sit, bewildered, staring into his green eyes, searching desperately for an answer.

“I don’t know, Daph.  For some reason, it didn’t feel right and it was freaking me out.  I thought I needed to be with my buddies and keep my head in the game.  It didn’t help that my parents had been on my case about how bad my grades got when we were dating. And then when I went home for Spring Break…”

“So, you didn’t stop loving me?” I inquire softly.  I had convinced myself that he simply lost interest, and that he didn’t care.  I couldn’t believe that I may have been wrong for two years.

“Well, to be honest, I thought I had.  I really thought so.  But, seeing you tonight, it sort of, I don’t know, brings back some really good memories.” He chuckles, pushing my hair out of my eyes.  He rubs the pad of his thumb on my earlobe, slowly moving his hands down to my neck.  His caresses transport me back to a place that I have yearned for, hoped for, wished for.

“So, what do we do now, Mayse?”  Deep down, my conscience is screaming at me, knowing that taking this any further would be a terrible idea.  He is drunk, and that is all.  And I, well, I am unbelievably sensitive, and not quite ready to give up on my first love.

“Well, now, I think we should just see what happens,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss me.  Kissing his lips feels inconceivable, and still so much like home.  Excited yet panicky, I can’t let go. I can’t pull away.  This magnetic force between us is pulling me to him even though I know I should be running from his apartment screaming.  This will not end well, Daphne!

“I’ve missed you, Daphne.  Really missed you,” he whispers into my ear, planting delicate kisses along the earlobe he just caressed a moment earlier.  His hot breath trails from my ear to my shoulder blade, where he is slowly pulling the neckline of my blouse to the side. He nibbles at and nuzzles my pale skin.

“I’ve always wanted to count these freckles,” he laughs to himself. “Let’s see...one...two…” 

With each freckle he locates, he plants a tiny kiss, causing the hair on my arms to stand at attention.  I find myself accommodating his kisses, unable to stop his quest to count them all.  He is so determined, so sexy and so intent on driving me wild. 

He fixes his eyes on me and reaches for the hem of my blouse.  Gripping the soft, cotton fabric, he fiercely rips it off my body. I gasp, biting m
y lip, waiting to see what he’
ll do next.

“I want you, Daphne.” His eyes lock with mine and I am completely his, completely willing to do whatever he wishes. 

We
make love for the first time,
my
very first
time.  It feels like it’ll be the most incredible yet most heart wrenching experience of my life. I know that the morning light will bring disappointment and despair when I have to say goodbye to Mayson, possibly for the rest of our lives.  As I drift off to sleep, I convince myself that this is all worth it.  I had wanted Mayson to be my first for years.  My wish has finally been granted. But, I’m not at all ready to let go of him. 

The next morning, I wake up feeling unbelievably awkward.  Mayson is snoring quietly beside me. I have no idea what to do. For several minutes, I lay stunned, hoping that he’ll to awaken, take me in his arms and make promi
ses for the future, our future.

But, something in the pit of my stomach tells me that this will not work out. Attempting to leave as quietly as possible, so as to avoid an uncomfortable confrontation, I roll quietly to the edge of the bed.  The rusty springs in the mattress squeak and Mayson lets out a contented sigh.  He is awake.  Crap.  All at once, I’m terrified that he might not even remember that I’m here.

“Morning,” he says, rubbing his eyes aggressively.

“Hi.  Sorry to wake you.” I say, trying to hide the relief in my voice, “I was trying to be quiet.”

“Not a problem.  Hey, how are you doing this morning, you know, with everything that happened?  No regrets, I hope?”

“No, I don’t think so.  Last night was very nice.  I just can’t believe that we’re both leaving campus after Graduation tomorrow. We’re off to start our lives, huh?” I ramble, pushing my feelings deep down within myself.

“Thank God!” he declares, sitting up in bed, leaning against the wall.  I hang my head in shame after hearing those words.  Mayson obviously isn’t agonizing over our impending separation. 

He notices the expression on my face and backpedals, “No, Daphne, I didn’t mean it that way.  I’m just ready to start my career.  After all this work, I need to have something to show for it, ya know?”

“Sure, I get it.”  My eyes search the room for my shoes.  I need to keep them occupied so that tears don’t form.

“We’ll be in touch, right?” he asks casually.  It feels like a knife is piercing straight through my fragile heart.  Last night had meant nothing more to him than two old flames rekindling a romance for old time’s sake.  Even though he had said those same words the night before, almost exactly, it is still a surprise to know that he really meant them.  I had hoped for so much more.  I had hoped for forever.

“Yes, I’d like that.  Listen, I have to head home.  I have so much packing to do before my parents arrive tomorrow for the ceremony.  But, I have your parents’ phone number.”

“Oh yeah, I have your parents’ address and phone, as well.  We should definitely email, though.” 

Unfortunately, I already know what it was like to have an email relationship with Mayson and I’m in no hurry to revisit that scenario.

“Sure.” I lean in to kiss him softly on the cheek, trying to hide the clear disappointment spread across my exhausted and troubled face.  Standing, I walk to his front door and say goodbye to the boy I love.

Wedding

“You’re
not
serious,” Mayson laughs. “You must be exaggerating!”

“I’m not, I promise,” I confirm, shaking my head.  We’re driving to Phillip and Janna’s wedding.  It’s a gorgeous day; perfect for a wedding ceremony.

“Were you trying to catch every single bouquet?  Am I going to stumble upon some crazy collection of dried out bouquets in your kitchen cabinets or something? I don’t think I can handle that, Daph.” He’s cracking himself up.  I, on the other hand, don’t find it nearly as humorous as Mayson does.

“No, it’s the strangest thing.  Honestly, aside from the first few that I caught, I deliberately tried
not
to catch the damn things.  It’s like they had minds of their own.”

“Or your friends are trying to mess with you.” Mayson is such a theorist. I have a feeling he won’t drop this conversation until he feels he’s reached a plausible explanation for my extraordinary talent.

“Well, considering I wasn’t friends with every single bride, I don’t know about that theory, Mayse.  It’s simply an odd gift, or curse, depending upon how you view it.”

“Well, now I can’t wait to watch the bride toss her bouquet tonight.  I have to see what happens,” Mayson teases.

“Hmm, maybe I’ll need to visit the ladies room when the DJ announces the toss,” I ponder, smiling at the road in front of me.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Mayson tickles me on the leg, “I need to see this firsthand!  You can’t avoid it!  I’m fascinated now and want a good show!”

Sure enough, three hours later, Mayson and I are enjoying a couple of glasses of wine when it’s time for the garter and bouquet tosses.  I groan.

“Show time!” Mayson laughs, pulling me towards the dance floor.

First is the garter toss.  All single men are asked to come to the dance floor.  When Mayson does not budge, I glare at him.

“What?” he asks incredulously.

“I’m not going to suffer alone,” I tease. “Get your ass out there!”

“Oh,” he says, “Right, I guess I’d better take one for the team.”

Mayson strolls confidently towards the rest of the single men on the dance floor.  He’s cool, collected, and grinning like hell at me.  Phillip seductively strips Janna of her garter and tosses it over his shoulder.  It lands right in Mayson’s hands.  I turn a hundred shades of pink. I
can even feel my toes blushing.

Mayson twirls it in his fingers, gives me a naughty grin and says, “I guess it’s official.  You’re sharing your curse.”