Oh, the life I want!
My best friend’s brother, Zayn, was marrying his high school sweetheart, Abigail.
It was the wedding of the town and the only thing people gossiped about since he had proposed to her in a hot air balloon last year. He was lucky she said yes before the damn thing almost burned to the ground. I wondered if that was a testament to their future, perhaps a warning of such.
It was now their wedding day and I couldn’t believe how extravagant everything looked.
The Church, the flowers adorning the pews, the smell of roses filling the air. It was dead smack in the middle of Winter and everyone was freezing their asses off as we waited for the bride to show up. The groom didn’t seem to be bothered by her late appearance. He smiled as he waited at the altar for Abigail, who no doubt was going to look as perfect and flawless as she always did.
When the choir music began, the entire congregation turned around to look at the bridesmaids. But, oh God, their dresses were hideous! Dark brown with puffy shoulders made from an unattractive silk. It was though the bride decided to play a practical joke on her two best friends. They looked as uncomfortable as a person waiting in line at a fair to use the single toilet available. With gritted teeth, they walked down the aisle, feigning smiles while the rest of the people ignored their pleas for help and lied when they called them stunning. I could hear whispering and gasps amongst the guests around me at how beautiful they were. Seriously? Their makeup looked like a five year old threw some crayons over their face and hoped for the best. I’d met those girls before a number of times and they were naturally, unbelievably attractive. Why the hell would the bride allow them to look like clowns? Deep down I knew the answer to that. Abigail liked to be the center of attention. She craved it on a daily basis. She wanted to feel as though she were the most beautiful girl in the room, so she made her bridesmaids look like trash. I felt sorry for them. It wasn’t their fault that Abigail was a complete and utter bitch.
I ignored my own thoughts and smiled along with the crowd, keeping focus on the back of the church as I waited for the bride to walk in with her dad.
And there she was, Zayn’s soon to be wife, clutching the arms of her disgustingly rich father as they strolled slowly down the aisle. The woman who had stolen Cordelia’s brother’s heart really did look incredible. Her long, blonde, wavy hair was let down settling on the curve of her breasts. I’ll be honest I was a little jealous that she actually had some even if her own dad had paid for them. Hers were like cantaloupes while mine were the size of lemons. Abigail had long legs, a playful smile which showed off her whitest teeth, and everyone adored her.
Well, everyone but me.
I couldn’t put my finger on it. There was something off putting about her personality. It was as fake as her lips and breasts, maybe even her ass too. There were rumors. And she was as dry as the desert, boring as fuck, but somehow managed to catch the attention of Zayn. How he ever fell in love with her I’ll never understand. Every time we met she called me ‘kid,’ just like Zayn did. Condescending bitch. I hated it when they called me that. I mean, I was 24 and only a year younger than him.
We didn’t really get along anymore like we used to. Like really didn’t. I had known him for as long as I’d known Cordi, ever since we were kids and we used to play in each other’s back yards. Our parents were friends, and the three of us eventually went to the same school as each other.
Zayn was in the grade above us and fell in with the popular crowd. That didn’t surprise me with his attitude, high cheekbones, bubbled ass, his sinful smile, thick, wavy hair and gorgeous blue eyes. Don’t mind me, I’m just admiring his physical attributes. He was great at sports, was the quarterback for the school team and somehow he hated my guts.
I, on the other hand, was a shorter, braccess wearing girl with fuzzy hair, a geek who spent a lot of time with her head in her books. Cordi and one other girl, Stevie, were my only friends in high school. We spent most of our time at Cordi’s place for the simple reason that she had an inground, heated pool. Our San Diego summer’s were fun, and playful, except when Zayn was there, which was pretty much all the time.
Cordi was sick of our bickering and by the time Zayn finished highschool he hated being around me. It was bad to the point I would go home after visiting my friend and collapse on my bed in tears. Because I felt it every time he looked at me, the disdain in his voice, the shortness in his attitude. I harbored guilt considering he and his sister got along well without me, but I wasn’t prepared to lose my friend and she wasn’t prepared to lose me either. Towards the end of the school year we ended up spending our Summers at the public pools and back at my place. I believed Cordi knew. I didn’t know if she said anything to Zayn about it, but eventually it became longer in between visits. When he started college I hardly saw him. Weirdly enough I kinda missed him, but I felt at peace whenever Cordi and I hung out at her place. There was no tension, no uncomfortable feeling I’d get whenever I used to go over and hang out. He was never there.
Except that one time he had surprised his parents and came home from college.
“We are gathered here today to join in holy matrimony, Zayn Rigby and Abigail Page.”
I was happy for him. Regardless of his attitude towards me, I was happy that he had found someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
But I couldn’t help feeling a little envious. I wasn’t jealous that it was her...I was jealous that it wasn’t me. It’s not that I had a crush on my best friend’s brother, but the entire ceremony was just another reminder that I was lonely.
Life since high school had been pretty simple. I grew out of my braces, calmed down my fuzzy hair and figured out how to put on makeup. It took a while to find my own confidence when it came to guys, but somehow, whenever I was in Zayn’s proximity, I always reverted back to that geeky teenager who had cuts under my top lip from metal protectors.
Seeing him was a reminder of how he made me feel. Insignificant, unwanted and unattractive. It’s not that he ever called me ugly or anything, but I guess he didn’t need to use words by the way he looked at me, as though he’d just witnessed a dog take a dump on the freshest grass only to gobble it back up again.
But I’ll admit, things have improved slightly since then considering we hardly saw each other. He was doing his own thing getting engaged and I was busy dumping my cheating boyfriend.
Ugh. I don’t want to think of that prick.
My gaze shifted towards Zayn. He looked good in his dark, navy suit. It really brought out his eyes, and even though he hadn’t played football since high school, he was still the fine, physical specimen he had always been. Just with a little less of an attitude towards me.
I remained quiet as the priest spoke out, “If anyone can show just cause why these two should not be lawfully wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
The church remained silenced, no one dared to say anything. I wasn’t expecting anyone to— “I object.”