3 Crushes and a Wedding Ch. 07

Author's note: I'm back with the seventh and final installment of Zoe's interesting weekend with her three past crushes. If you haven't read the first six chapters, you won't understand much of what is happening here, so go on, read those first, then come back. I'll be waiting.

In this final part, trouble is brewing in paradise and Zoe has to navigate the consequences of her adventures over the last three days. I hope you like the road she ends up taking and I hope you've appreciated her journey over this long, fun, and emotional weekend.

Reminder: All of my stories leave something for the imagination. I don't want you to delve into a multi-chapter story expecting sex scenes in the traditional sense only to be disappointed. But if you appreciate the journey towards sex, with all its naughtiness and explicit moments, then I hope you'll enjoy the characters and their evolution here.

Disclaimer: Although not stated explicitly, all characters engaging in any sexual activity are above 18.

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I looked at the closed elevator doors and cursed again under my breath. Why did I have to be so stupid?! Jamming myself into Scarlett, even if my intentions were honest, was one of the most reckless things I'd done this weekend - and I'd done some stupid things already. But this took the cake.

Three thoughts jumped at me: A) I didn't know where Meg went or what her room number was, B) my own room door was still open, and C) Scarlett was still there.

First, I had to make sure there were no more messes or nasty surprises. So I turned around and nearly sprinted back to my room. I was getting mentally ready for a confrontation with Scarlett, perhaps even a fight to get her out of my room if she'd taken the liberty to go inside without my permission, but luckily, I found her leaning on the wall in the hallway, just like I'd left her. She still looked shaken.

I purposefully walked toward the door and closed it. As I was turning around to walk back to the elevator, Scarlett's low voice stopped me.

"Is she right for you?"

Why did she think she had the right to ask that?

"You said I'm not right for you. Is she?" The inflection on the pronoun was too noticeable, and too sour. Yesterday, this bitter jealousy might've tickled me, but not now, not after everything.

"Yes." If this would get her off me, then it was worth trying.

I turned and started walking to the elevator, leaving her there. She probably needed more time to digest the truth I'd forced her to see earlier. Long days, perhaps months, of introspection awaited her until she'd find the courage to accept her sexuality, but that wasn't my concern anymore. My main focus was finding Megan's room and apologizing again and again until she believed me.

After a small detour by the reception desk, I headed back up to room 517. I stopped in front of the door and steeled myself. What do I say? Where do I even begin?

The truth, that's it. I just had to get it fixed. I knocked on the door and waited. A few seconds elapsed with no answer. I knocked again. Still no answer. At the third knock, I added a "Please, Megan, open the door." It didn't do anything.

My head flung forward in slow-motion and rested on the closed door that was blocking her away from me. I knocked and pleaded a fourth, fifth, sixth time. A little part of me was hoping she wasn't in there ignoring me, but I knew that wasn't the case. She was hurt, understandably. Bits of our discussion the previous night and this morning came back to me, with all her insecurities and relationship amateurish'ness taking the front seat. She might be older than me but she may not know how to behave in these situations. So I changed strategies for something a little more confrontational.

At the seventh knock, I just said aloud, "Come on, Megan, I thought we weren't supposed to let this intense weekend setting ruin things. You said it this morning: We're not teenagers anymore. Open the door so we can talk."

A few seconds later, I heard movement inside the room and the door was unlocked. I couldn't believe that worked! She stood in front of me, still wearing the boyish white tank top and black shorts that I'd seen her in at the spa, but her face was blank. The dance in her eyes had disappeared, just like it had on the lanai the previous evening when I pushed her to acknowledge her feelings for me.

She barely raised those dull eyes to meet mine, then spun and walked back in. She sat down on an armchair and crossed her legs defensively. I followed her inside, closed the door, and leaned on it. If she wanted space, I could give her a bit of that.

"I'm..." We both started saying at the same time. I waved at her to go first.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be mad. I don't have the right to be mad," she blurted out while fixing a spot in the distance, beyond me. The feeling of being invisible to her hurt more than any words she might've said.

She took a quick breath then continued, "We're nothing yet. We haven't defined anything or set limits. A hastily thrown girlfriend joke or two don't mean anything. You can do whatever you want. Kiss someone less than an hour after being fingered by someone else. It's fine, you did nothing wrong, I'm the one who's in the wrong here for assuming there was more to this."

Fuck. I was ready for a fight, but not this... this detachment. She was clearly hurt, but instead of shouting or crying or cursing, she'd chosen an icy cold retreat. I shivered. Her neutral tone and calculated words stung more. At least there's passion when you're mad. This was borderline apathy.

Before I could say anything or do anything, I had to reel her back to me. It was my only choice, otherwise all my efforts would land on deaf ears and shrouded eyes. But how? Which words do I use to prove to her that I wanted more, I wanted all of it, and I was an idiot? Well, maybe start with the last part.

"I'm an idiot." I hoped that'd trigger something, but nothing. "We have more. We hadn't clearly defined limits, no, but I didn't make that girlfriend comment lightly. I'm sure I want to build something real, if you'll take me, and even though I didn't say the words out loud before, I want them out now: I'm all in. There's no one else. Just you."

She snickered and rolled her eyes, but I wasn't going to let that stop me in my discourse. At least it was a clear sign of life behind the mist of her blank stare.

"I have a shitty way of doing that, but I need you to know I didn't kiss her and I wasn't going to kiss her. I was just trying to make her realize that she's attracted to women and get her to acknowledge that she's not straight like she believes. She's so far in the closet that she's built a whole house in there with plenty of sub-closets to hide in."

As I said it out loud, I realized how silly my argument sounded. It made sense in my head, it had even made sense in the moment, but now, with the words pronounced aloud like that, it was obviously the most preposterous excuse anyone could use.

"I wish I was lying," I sneered. "If I were lying, I'd like to think I could come up with a better explanation than this."

For the first time since I'd come into the room, her eyes landed on mine, for real, but she quickly pulled them away. I had something.

"Meg, please, look at me again... Please."

Her eyes resisted for a couple of seconds then came back to me. I ventured a micro smile.

"This weekend has been a mess. You've already asked me about Scarlett and Valentina, and my answer is still the same. They're stories from my past and I'd like them to remain there. I wasn't expecting to meet them here, nor you for that matter, and it took me two days and a couple of chats... and a bit more... to get my feelings sorted out. I'm not going to pretend that nothing happened at all, but the gist is that I didn't sleep with either of them," I grimaced. "I'm skating on a technicality here, to be honest, but it's still the truth. And whatever happened was before you came to my room last night, before we talked, before this morning, before the massage, and before I knew there was hope for us." I enumerated those five points on my fingers. "Those are the cliff notes. I can tell you every excruciating detail, if you prefer, but personally, I'd rather we leave it at that for now."

She didn't take her eyes off me throughout my speech. She even kept fixing me for several interminable seconds of silence after I was done, then spoke slowly, bitterly.

"This is why I don't do relationships. Someone eventually has to end up getting hurt, and that someone is usually me." She broke our eye contact and lowered her head to her lap. "I still have your smell on my fingers and... you... you'd already..."

I got off the door and practically ran the few feet that separated us. In a second, I was kneeling in front of her, her fingers wrapped up in mine. Those same fingers she'd used to bring me up to heaven about an hour earlier.

"I swear, I didn't touch her, I didn't kiss her and I wasn't planning on it. It was a stupid, miscalculated move on my part and I'm sorry. I really am. I can't believe I'm messing this up before it even begins. You deserve better than someone who's spent their first few days with you also sorting out other fuck-ups in their life. But I swear, it's all done now. Please believe me."

Her eyes rose up, found mine, and in a split-second, she was bulldozing her way through my soul, uncovering layer after layer of my thoughts and feelings, which were all too keen to reveal themselves to her. Whatever she needed, I'd give it all. She had to know I was honest, and if this signature soul-delving stare of ours wasn't enough then nothing would ever be enough.

I resisted the urge to look away, even when it became harder and harder to focus on the blinding green of her eyes. How was this even a fair contest? Did she know how breathtaking and mesmerizing her irises were? But I held on, telling myself it was worth it. It was surely worth being burned by the sun if it meant that I got to bask in its warmth for a while longer.

"I always trust your eyes," she finally whispered, then blinked, breaking the spell.

Her swift retreat left me breathless and empty. It wasn't even a second and I already yearned for her invasive look to come back and snake its way through my whole being. Addiction, that's what it was, right? I was addicted to the way she made me feel when she looked at me.

I caressed her hands. "And what did they tell you?"

The corner of her lips curved upward for a brief second. "You're hon-," she hesitated then looked at me again, briefly but just as intensely, "honest."

Oof. Mission accomplished.

"But I don't know if I'm ready to go all in," she whispered. "You seem to be sure, I don't know if I can be. Or how I can be. It's too early."

"I didn't say this to pressure you into anything, Meg. 24 hours ago, I had no idea you even liked me, so I hadn't even allowed myself the luxury of considering something with you. Now, it's different and I," I held my right hand over my heart, "I am sure. I say it because I want to be clear about my commitment, so you don't question it, but not because I want to pressure you into it as well."

Even though it scared me to see how unsure she was, I had to tone down and push aside my expectations. This wasn't a game, this was our life, and I'd do anything to get her to a place where she would get over her hang-ups.

"This terrifies me, Zoe. The way I felt when I saw you. If we've barely begun and it can hurt this bad, what about in a few months? Or years? How much more painful would it be then?"

I was asking myself the same question. If her indecision frightened and burned me this much now, what would it be like if I let myself go on and believe, only for her to walk back on us in a few months? Then I remembered my mom's advice.

"You know, I'm terrified too. But I'm more terrified, infinitely more terrified, of losing you now than I am of maybe, potentially, losing you later. Which one is scarier for you? That's the only question that matters."

I stared into her green eyes, trying to peel the layers she put up for the world, past her vulnerabilities and facades and through her darkest thoughts, fire extinguisher in hand, hoping to put down her fueled insecurities and ignite a more optimistic passion instead.

I held my heart in my hands. This was it. All I could do. For a few seconds, it looked like she was about to open her mouth to answer, but she didn't.

Slowly, like a horror movie I couldn't look away from, I saw her eyes close and re-open, each time a little colder, a little more indecisive, a little less talkative. They were still looking at me, but the words within them withdrew, as if she was limiting my access. Turning on the privacy shades of her soul and stopping me from peering inside.

I knew what this meant, but I didn't want to admit it. I couldn't admit it. So I stayed there, kneeling in front of her, my hands on top of hers, hoping for a miracle, for a last-minute awakening. The moment stretched. She looked tormented, angry with herself, scared, but she still didn't say a word.

Finally, I grabbed the remainder of my self-esteem and disconnected from her. Her eyes, her hands, her face. I wanted to say something to shake her up, explain how big of a mistake she was making, win her over again, but I did none of that. If she wasn't scared of losing me now, what was the point of it all?

I walked toward the door wordlessly, opened it, and stepped out. I wanted to give her one last look, one last chance to score a buzzer-beater, but it would have been pure torture to subject myself to that and get nothing back. So I closed the door and walked to the elevator, feeling emptier than I had ever been in my entire life.

My head kept repeating 'Meg, I lost Meg' on an infinite loop. Nothing else mattered. This was my chance, our chance to build something great together, and I couldn't be persuasive enough. I couldn't convince her that having me now was worth more than the risk of losing me later. So I lost. I lost Meg.

The next hour went in a blur of automated emptiness. I did my hair and make-up and wore my bridesmaid dress. I kept thinking that I was going to see her at the ceremony, and I wanted nothing more than to get away. Run as far and as fast as I could so I wouldn't have to lay my eyes on her and remember my pain. Ha, "remember"?! As if I could even begin to forget it.

No, I couldn't forget. Nor could I leave. I would've walked out this very moment if it weren't for Emily. But one of my best friends was marrying the love of her life, and as much as it killed me that mine chose to ignore me, I had to stick around. Maybe she'd be the shitty friend and leave or not show up?

I somehow found myself knocking on Emily's bridal suite a little later, looking as ready as I could be, feeling as devastated as I could feel. I couldn't remember how I got there, but that didn't matter. Kay opened the door.

"Oh, there you are! Get in, get in. Em is two seconds away from a full breakdown and we need to calm her down."

She had already turned on her heels and was walking hastily toward the bedroom. I faked my best smile and followed along.

We found Emily in her gown, plopped on the bed, with her maid of honor, Jill, on one side, and Megan on the other. I avoided her eyes as if they were the fire pits of hell. Why didn't she skip this? Why did she come?

Kay sat down next to Jill, and I stood there like an idiot, staring at the small empty space next to Megan and not daring come anywhere near it. Kay raised an eyebrow, but didn't acknowledge my reaction further. Clearly the priority here was Em, and my drama had to wait.

When I looked back at the empty spot, I noticed Megan was pushing herself a little to the side, to leave me more room. Sure, she had to distance herself as much as possible from me. I stepped forward and sat there, trying to avoid any contact with her as well. Eyes, hands, thighs, they all had to be separated. A few inches apart physically, miles apart emotionally.

For a few minutes, Jill and Kay tried to talk to Em to calm down her jitters, while Meg and I remained silent. Nothing was working.

"Oh for fuck's sake, stop it, Emily!" I blurted out of the blue. I don't know what came over me, but it was all starting to sound too ridiculous.

"You remember all the crap you went through before Dave? The mama's boy who wanted you to drive all the way over to his cabin in the middle of nowhere because he didn't like the city, then fucked you, then asked you to do his laundry? The other one who refused to pay for anything or treat you because he was too bitter about feminism? Or the insecure asshole who begged you to share your phone's live location because he was quote-unquote too worried about you?"

Emily had a disgusted look on her face, but was starting to smile.

"There were dozens like that, Em, then came Dave, and you remember what you told me after your first date with him?" She shook her head. "You said, verbatim, 'this is the one, Zoe, I'm too terrified to believe it, but there's too much that feels right for it to be wrong' and I have the proof."

I unlocked my phone and showed her the screenshot I had dug a few days earlier, when Kay and I were reminiscing about hers and Dave's relationship and how it had evolved.

She stared at the screen, a little in disbelief. This quote came from her, two years ago. Or a past version of her that was a bit broken from old failures, but could still recognize the potential of this new encounter with Dave.

"I've seen you two evolve for two years, and I truly believe there's too much that is right in your relationship, it can not possibly be wrong. As an outsider, looking in, it feels like a privilege to see a love like this, and I can only hope that one day, I'll live a similar story."

For a brief moment, I had forgotten about Meg being near me. But that last sentence brought back all the dread and heartache of the last few hours. Suddenly, I was all too aware of her presence, her breezy aqua smell, her heavy breathing pattern, her unavoidable nearness.

I didn't realize that she was getting nearer, though. The shy and light touch on my pinky came out of nowhere. My eyes flew down to see her hand next to mine, her pinky stretching to touch mine. It brushed me once again. This wasn't a mistake; this was as deliberate as it could ever be.

My heart started racing. Anger, sadness, hope, they all collided together. What did this mean? Could it really be a glimmer of hope? No, I couldn't let myself believe.

No. Stop it, Zoe.

But I couldn't take my hand away either. So I let her brush my pinky a few more times, that slight touch propagating like a fireball through me, to my heart, my head, my pussy. I felt her eyes on me, but I didn't dare look up. How could I face those eyes now? What if they weren't saying what I wanted them to say? What if I let myself succumb to them again only to be hurt and disappointed one more time?

"He's awesome, isn't he?" Emily finally spoke up. Her smile was back, shy but bright.

We all nodded enthusiastically.

"He's the one. Not just because I'm never gonna find anyone like him, but because he's simply the one."

She was more talking to herself than to us at this point. We still nodded and agreed.

The invasive pinky had laced itself to mine at this point. I still didn't move or look up into Meg's eyes.

"I'm being silly. I'm marrying the love of my life and the most awesome man ever, I should be happy." Em handed me back my phone and thanked me. In less than two seconds, she was up on her feet, bouncing, hyping us all. "Come on, we got a wedding to go to!" And she giggled as if the past half hour or so hadn't happened.