Page 15 of A Little Crush
The three-man orchestra set up on the north side begins playing as Tatum loops her arm through Paxton’s, and theywalk down the cobblestone aisle to a wooden arch covered in peach and white flowers. Dylan and Reeves follow behind, obeying Finley’s suggested order, then the rest of the couples slowly traipse down the makeshift aisle as I look down at Rory, er, the top of her head, since she refuses to acknowledge me.
Keeping my voice low, I say, “You look nice.”
Her chin drops to her chest, and a quiet huff of derision slips out of her. “Thanks.”
Her sarcasm is as thick as molasses. I fight the urge to shake her.
“You ready?” I prod.
She forces herself to nod but doesn’t look at me.
Why won’t you look at me, Squeaks?
I offer my arm. She loops her own through it, raising her chin, though I don’t miss the slight tremble of her body. The realization hits like a wrecking ball, and I glance down at her hand folded around my bicep. Wait. She isn’t shaking. She’s tapping.
One, two, three.Pause.One, two, three.Pause.One, two, three.
It’s a compulsion. A subtle one, but a compulsion nonetheless.
She started this one after Archer’s death. When she was nervous or overwhelmed or scared. I don’t think anyone else noticed. Not at first. I did, though. Considering her degree, I assumed she’d be over these kinds of ticks. Clearly, I was wrong. Or maybe I wasn’t. Maybe she’s regressing.
Fuck, I hope that isn’t the case. After she was diagnosed with OCD, I did a shit-ton of research, anxious to help any way I could, even if all I could offer was understanding. It helped that her dad was diagnosed with the same disorder after his best friend was arrested a few decades ago. Apparently, a traumatic experience can trigger it, and the death of a family member seems like a pretty solid traumaticexperience to me. Then again, maybe Rory never stood a chance, since OCD’s genetic and all. I guess we’ll never know.
Tap, tap, tap.Pause.Tap, tap, tap.Pause.Tap, tap, tap.
The familiar rhythm seeps through my suit as I stare at her pale fingertips and light nail polish.
I thought she was getting better. And maybe she was. Maybe this is all too much, though I’m unsure if it’s my presence or the lack of her brother’s at an important event like this one that’s triggering her. I’m not sure it really matters.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I squeeze her hand softly but don’t call her out for giving in to her compulsion, well aware it won’t help. Not in the big picture. Her manicured nails dig into my bicep, but the tapping stops as the wedding coordinator motions for us to start walking. So, we do. One step after another. Until we reach the end of the line. With a little too much enthusiasm, Rory lets me go, rushing toward the line of bridesmaids, so I take my place on the opposite side.
Yeah…we’re not good, are we?
It’s Ophelia’s turn, or at least I assume. I’m too busy analyzing Rory from across the grassy lawn to check to see if the bride is walking down the aisle. Rory seems calmer now that she’s not forced to hold my arm. Or maybe I’m only seeing what she wants me to see. What she wantseveryoneto see. A girl who’s cool, calm, and collected.
Maybe she’s harder to read than I initially gave her credit.
The realization stings. She’s always been an open book. But now? Now, she’s nothing but a prop on a bookshelf. No pages to be read. No pictures to be appreciated. Just a closed hunk of leather I’ve yet to access. Or maybe I’m incapable of it altogether.
A tender, sweet smile softens the divot between her brows. I follow her gaze in time to notice Dodger at the backof the area. He gives Rory a gentle wave as he sits down on one of the folding chairs, spreading his legs wide.
So, he’s not in the wedding party, but he’s here anyway?
Why? And who invited him?
“Perfect!” the wedding coordinator announces. I realize I’ve been blocking her out for at least a solid minute.
Shit. What’d I miss?
With a single but jarring clap of her hands, she adds, “Then the officiant performs the wedding, Ophelia says her vows, Maverick says his, he kisses the bride, and bam. The two live happily ever after, and we exit the way we came. Ready?” She claps her hands again. “Bride and groom, you two first. Then, you and you.” She points to Tatum and Paxton, and they do as they’re told, meeting at the center of the path before striding down it. Dylan and Reeves go next, then Everett and Raine, and Finley and Griffin.
And then, there were two.
Rory’s gaze stays glued to the ground as she follows the procession, so I do the same, hating how forced it feels. Without a word, I raise my arm for Rory to take just like before. Her touch is light as a feather. Hell, I might as well be guiding a ghost. But it’s the familiar silence that kills me, making me feel like I’ve lost my ever loving mind as I guide her back down the aisle.
“Lovely. Yes, lovely,” the wedding coordinator croons from the back. “Everyone did amazing. Any questions before we wrap up?” She barely waits a second. “Perfect. I told you this would be relatively painless. There’s a light dinner set up in the main building as a thank you for coming, and we’ll see everyone on Saturday at 2:00 p.m.”
As everyone disperses, Dodger pushes to his feet and tugs Rory from my grasp like I’m not even here.
