4 ~ GINGER

What the hell?

Luther kissed me.

I’ve got this ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod mantra pounding in my head. The band’s switched to rock covers and the dance floor is packed. I’m jostled as I skirt the edge and hurry towards the restroom. Behind me, the door slips closed and the sounds of wedding celebrations are muffled.

I lean against the vanity and peer into the mirror. I don’t know these new lips I have, even though they look the same as my old ones. They feel so different. So kissed. I’ve fantasized about the kiss for five years, but never had I imagined it accurately. Yes, I’ve kissed other men in that time. I’ve had a boyfriend. I’ve tried things. But, everything was in preparation for the kiss.

I don’t think I was that great. I was so shocked I pretty much froze. Luther probably isn’t struggling with the same cacophony of overwhelm and feels that I am right now.

I need to get my act together. I expect Luther must be terribly drunk to have kissed me. It was gentle, almost cautious, but so filled with lust. Oh, hell. My one chance with Luther and I blow it by running away. Freeze and flight just because our lips touched. I’ve confirmed I’m as silly as he thinks I am. The one opportunity I have to make him change his opinion of me, to show him how sophisticated and mature I can be, and I blow it by running away.

That is not the way cool, classy women behave.

I need to fix my lipstick but I can still feel Luther’s mouth, and I don’t want to change that with a fresh application of Lady Danger. Darcy and I had laughed so hard at the name of my lipstick color earlier today. Lipstick names have always been a thing with me. Other people quote poetry, I quote lipstick brands. Once, at high school, I actually wrote a poem using only the names of lipstick colors. I thought it was highly creative but Miss Cresswell told me it was a form of plagiarism and lacked originality.

I want to plagiarize the latest romance novel I read and quote the love scene to Luther. I’m thinking about the part where the female character, Tiffany, describes Troy’s cock to her best friend, when the restroom door flies open.

It’s Darcy, looking flushed. She snips the lock behind her and joins me at the vanity. Our eyes meet in the mirror. Her face is pink, and she needs a fresh application of Ruby Woo.

“Everyone wants to dance with the bride,” she says. “I think I’ve lost five pounds tonight from so much booty shaking.”

“You still look amazing. Are you happy?” It’s a silly question. Happiness is pouring off her.

“Couldn’t be happier. Except, I still don’t know where we’re going for our honeymoon. I told Oliver he had to keep it a secret in case Luther thought it might be fun to drop by. You know what he’s like.”

My face turns the same color as Darcy’s.

“What’s up?” she asks.

“Nothing, why?”

“Your face just went all weird. Sort of guilty-looking when I mentioned Luther’s name. You two were noticed disappearing through to the private courtyard, you know?” she teases.

“He kissed me.” I blurt it out because saying it out loud makes it real, and saying it fast makes it sound less embarrassing.

Darcy beams at me. “And? Good? Bad?”

“It was heavenly.”

“I don’t think ‘Luther’ and ‘heavenly’ have ever been used in the same breath. So, he kissed you, and then what?”

“I ran off. I lost my nerve and sort of shoved him away and left him in the courtyard. Now, I’m confused.”

Darcy slings her arm over my shoulder and pulls me close so that we’re cheek to cheek. “Look at us. Two of the most beautiful women here tonight. One with the best husband in the world, the other lusting after the best man. I know Luther’s difficult, and he’s particularly scowly around you, but I reckon that’s because he actually fancies the hell out of you.”

“If that’s the case, why can’t he be nice to me?”

“I don’t know, but surely he’s past that adolescent ignore-the-girl-you-really-like thing. Is there anything in your past, or his past, like a small-town feud between families or something?”

Oliver, Luther, Maraea and I were all born in Waitapu. Darcy’s only been here a year so she doesn’t know any historic scandals, but I can’t think of any that affect us, either.

“Nothing I can think of. Oh, god, Darcy. My body turns to jelly whenever I’m around him. Nothing works properly. Words jam up in my head. My mouth goes dry and I can’t talk properly. Everything inside me quivers. And now I know what it’s like to kiss him and that’s actually made everything worse. I’m contemplating sneaking out the back way and grabbing an Uber.”

“You can’t do that. I need you. My darling, gorgeous bridesmaid can’t leave the wedding early.”

“Did you see Luther before you came in here?”

“He was at the bar, with Oliver. That’s why I came looking for you.”

“What was his mood like?”

“How would you know? He looked happy. He and Oliver were laughing.”

“Probably at me.”

“Don’t get down on yourself. If you want to pursue Luther, I’m not going to try to talk you out of it. He’s certainly an unusual person, but we both know how loyal he is. Anyway, you know him better than I do. Just make sure all viewing is through a clean pair of glasses rather than anything rose-tinted.”

I laugh. “You sound like my mother. Or, like my mother would sound if she took a minute to think about anyone but herself.”

Darcy starts to fiddle with a piece of my hair which came loose, probably during the kiss. “Has your mother come around to the idea of you staying at our house while we’re on our honeymoon?” she asks.

“Not entirely. Well, not at all, to be honest. I’ve convinced her it’s part of my job.” I’ve been working part-time with Darcy, helping out with the marketing and PR business she’s started in Waitapu. “I really appreciate you and Oliver giving me a place to stay.”

“You’re doing us a favor, staying in the house while we’re away.”

“You don’t really need me.”

“We do. Plus I want you on hand to handle inquiries. You’ll be really busy.”

“Well, I’m just hoping it will show Mom that she can live without me. The ideal situation would be if I never returned home. Like, if I went straight from your house to my own place.”

“There,” said Darcy, stepping back to admire her handiwork on my hair. “Back to perfect.”

“Thank you.” I pull open a vanity drawer where I’d stashed some lipstick earlier. “My turn. Let me redo your lips.” I pull the cap off and examine the color. “This one will work nicely against the high color of Madam’s face.” We both giggle. I read out the label. “Costa Chica. That’s you, baby.”

Darcy grips my forearm. “Oh, do you think it’s an omen? Maybe Oliver’s taking me to Costa Rica. Imagine it, Ginger. Sun, beaches.”

“You have sun and beaches in Waitapu.”

“Yeah, but it’s winter here.”

“That’s true—” I’m stopped by the rattle of the door handle.

“Are you in there, Virginia?”

It’s Luther.

“Yes, I’m here.” My tone is surprisingly normal when you consider the Pavlovian response my body just had to his voice.

“Let me in. The door’s locked.”

“I’m fixing the bride’s makeup,” I call back.

“Fuck.”

“Luther,” Darcy warns. “Remember your promise.”

There’s no response. He must have left.

Darcy snorts. “Since when did he start calling you Virginia?”

“Tonight, mainly, when he’s trying to be formal.”

“That didn’t sound formal. That sounded more like someone who wanted to get it on in the bathroom.”

“Very classy, Darcy. If I’m going to get it on, as you so quaintly put it, with Luther, it will not be in a bathroom. Unless, of course, it’s his bathroom and we’re showering together. Now behave yourself and let me fix that mouth of yours.”

She waits while I touch up her lipstick then examines herself in the mirror. “Nice job. Thanks, Ginger. In all seriousness, don’t let Luther hurt you. I couldn’t bear that.”

“I’m fine,” I tell her. “I don’t think that kiss meant anything. More to the point, I think Luther values his friendship with Oliver above everything else. He’s not going to do something that will upset his best friend’s wife.”

“Darned right he’s not. He’ll have me to contend with, and I will take sides. I just want you to be happy, Ginge. We’ve got to get you out of your mother’s house, permanently. I’ve got plenty of work for you, so you’ll be able to afford your own place—”

“Enough, Darcy. It’s your wedding day. The only thing you should be thinking about is shagging your gorgeous husband.”

“You’re right. And it’s probably time to cut the cake. I have to keep pinching myself. This whole thing feels like a beautiful fairytale.”

“It is. And you’re going to live happily ever after. Now, you go and find your husband and I’ll make sure chef’s got the cake ready.”