Page 5 of Just Joshing
He cocked an eyebrow as if to say, just try it.
We glared for a moment longer before he rolled his eyes, breaking the stare down.
"Fine," he turned his back on me. "Let them win."
I scowled, barely resisting the urge to poke my tongue out. "I’m not letting anyone do anything." I stepped beside him, looking at the gathering. "This isn’t a competition, Josh-u-ahhh." I drew his name out. "I’m not competing against anyone. Bess is my friend. I’m happy for her and Pete."
I searched my feelings, verifying the validity of my claim. Apart from the wistful wish of wanting a partner, I felt nothing but joy for them.
"Yeah? Tell that to your face," he retorted.
I straightened, flicking hair away from my face. "Excuse me?"
He raised the glass to his lips, shrugging. "You heard me."
"What’s wrong with my face?" I demanded, stepping in front of him, forcing him to look at me. His trademark smirk had settled back in place.
"You’ve got your green-eyed monster on."
I opened my mouth to deny but snapped it shut, feeling suddenly exhausted. "I don't want to talk about it."
His smirk dropped, leaving behind a touch of pity. "Why didn’t you do anything about it? Pete could have been yours."
I blew out a breath, staring down at my glass as I twirled it slowly between my fingers. Josh could be like a dog with a bone. He wasn't going to drop this.
This conversation requires alcohol.
I downed my drink, turned on a heel and made a beeline for the nearest waiter. Josh trailed, murmuring greetings to people as we passed. I swapped my empty for two full flute glasses, downing one immediately. I placed it back on the waiter’s tray then turned back to Josh. The fingers of my free hand hid in the folds of my skirt, beginning their anxious tick once again.
"I did," I looked back at the crowded ballroom, pasting a fake smile on my lips. "I made a play for him and it didn't work."
It was a sad thing to admit but, in this story, I played the role of the dowdy lady-in-waiting. Where Bess was sugar and spice and all things nice, I was what rejected spinsters were made of.
Josh waved the waiter away, coming to lean against the table beside me. I stood ramrod straight, no part of me touching a surface. I felt unexpectedly brittle, as if I would shatter if I relaxed even a minutia.
"When?" Josh asked. I didn't answer. Didn’t even spare him a glance. Instead, I focused all my attention on the happy couple. Bess screamed with laughter as she draped herself over Pete on the other side of the room. She caught my eye, flashing a smile and a wave. I bared some teeth holding the glass up in cheers.
"Why do you do that?" Josh asked, foot tapping in time with the music provided by the Jazz band.
"Do what?" I sipped the champagne, determined to drink this glass slower, knowing the alcohol was already going straight to my head.
"Put up with her. With them. They're both vapid. I love my brother, but let's be honest – he doesn't exactly breathe integrity. Why not just dump and run?"
The wine loosened my tongue, "Like you and Sam?"
"We didn’t-" Josh’s head twisted towards me.
"You did. Both of you. And left me to deal with the fall out of your decisions." I held up my glass, tipping it in a salute. "Thanks for that, by the way. Really appreciate it."
Josh fell silent. He crossed one leg in front of the other, leaning further against the table. He placed the glass down, tucking hands into his pockets as we watched Bess and Pete hug his grandmother.
I sighed.
"Ugh. I can't stay mad at you. Move over." I gulped the last glass, dropping it to the table. I hip checked him, coming to slouch beside him, my arms crossing as we continued to watch the room. For a long moment we were both silent. Finally, I blew out a breath, leaning into him slightly.
"It doesn’t matter now anyway. Water under the bridge and all that."
"Molly, you know why we did it." His hushed voice implored me to understand.
