Page 3 of Walkoff Wedding

Relief floods my chest when I slide open the glass door at the back of the house and find the patio deck completely, gloriously empty.

Possibly the first and only thing that has gone in my favor tonight.

After stepping outside, I slide the door shut behind me, then walk to the edge of the wooden deck that overlooks the backyard and carefully sit along the edge. I set my sketchbook down next to me and peer out into the darkened wood line of looming cypress trees beneath a sea of bright stars.

It’s kind of peaceful once you take away the loud, obnoxiously drunk frat guys and the absolutely horrid music they’re blaring through the speakers. Yet another reminder that this whole party scene is not—and will not ever be—my thing… not that I needed one.

I pull my favorite drawing pencil from the pocket of my cardigan, open my sketchbook to my work in progress, and pick up where I left off. Like always, I quickly get lost in the details on the page, completely oblivious to the world around me.

Until I hear the back door sliding open and the sound of someone stepping out onto the deck, interrupting my quiet oasis.

My gaze slides to the intruder, a tall, dark blond guy who’s stumbling toward the banister on the other side of the deck. He’s either ignoring the fact that he’s not alone… or he doesn’t even realize that I’m here. Which makes sense because I’m generally invisible. I’m going to go with the latter because he begins fumbling with what I assume is the zipper of his pants, the dark gray T-shirt stretched across his shoulder rippling as he struggles.

“Goddamn zipper,” he grunts. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Um… Hi. Can you please not… um, pee with me right here?” I say loudly, alerting him of my presence. Normally I revel in my invisibility, but it feels like a violation of privacy to be out here without making him aware of it.

His head whips toward me, and a pair of piercing blue eyes meet mine in surprise for only a split second before he loses his balance and pitches forward over the banister railing, tumbling into the bushes below with a loud, pained grunt.

Holy crap.

Immediately, I jump to my feet, dropping my things and sprinting across the deck to the banister. My hands grip the railing as I peek forward over the side. The guy is half face down in a bush below with the other half of him sprawled on the ground, unmoving, and for a moment, I worry he might be dead.

Oh my god. Did I just accidentally… kill a guy?

Can tonight possibly get any worse? I’m going to faint from how fast my heart is racing.

“Please, please tell me you’re not dead,” I squeak loudly, leaning over further to inspect the mystery guy below. “Hello?”

When there’s no answer from him, my stomach twists in a knot of anxiety.

“Please don’t be dead,” I mumble to myself. “Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.”

Finally, after the longest few seconds of my life, there’s a deep, muffled rumble of a groan from below, and the guy lifts his hand slightly, alerting me that he is, in fact, alive.

I spring into action, taking the stairs leading down two at a time until I drop to my knees next to him. His head is still face down in the bush, so I truly have no idea if he’s actually okay or not.

“Hi, are you hurt?” I breathe. “Should I… call an ambulance?”

It wasn’t a very far fall, maybe a few feet at best, but he did just land face down on what looks to be a very prickly bush…

“Nope.” More muffled words. “All good. Just need a second.”

I find myself sighing in relief that he doesn’t appear to need immediate medical attention. Nodding as if he can see me, I sit back on my feet and give him a moment. I feel so bad that I’m the reason he went sailing over this banister.

After a moment that seems to stretch, he pushes up off the bush, and I scramble forward, wrapping my fingers around his bicep to attempt to help him up.

I pause when I feel the hard muscle beneath the pads of my fingers.

Wow, his arms are extremely… solid.

I probably shouldn’t be worried about how hard his muscles are right now, but it’s also very difficult to ignore.

Once he rights himself, he flops down onto the grass, groaning as he leans back against the side of the house, and places his forearms on his bent knees in front of him. His dark blond hair is tousled from his fall, and there are a few leaves and what looks like a small piece of branch protruding from it. When our eyes meet, a sheepish grin flits to his lips, revealing a row of perfectly straight white teeth and a slight dimple on each side of his cheeks.

Wow. I mean… uh… Holy crap, this man is hot. Even with shrubbery sticking out of his hair, he is possibly the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.

So attractive that I forget how to speak for a second due to the fact that my heart is currently racing at breakneck speed in my chest, making my brain short-circuit.

---