Page 11 of Going Overboard

I stand awkwardly in the middle of Brody’s hotel room, dripping water onto the very expensive-looking carpet. I cannot believe this is my life.

In my job it’s all about appearances, the optics, and all of that out there was just…

everything you don’t want. I mean, come on, first of all I’m dumped, then it turns out my ex is here with his new girlfriend, then it seems like I’m going to be the only one catching the bouquet (maybe she should’ve just handed me it), then my ex’s new girlfriend rocks up to compete with me, then we’re on the floor, then I’m in the bloody fountain…

and now I’m here, about to change into a XXL shirt, with a party full of gawping guests to head back to.

It’s not a great look, that’s all I’m saying.

Brody disappears into the bathroom, rummaging around for towels, while I stand there like a naughty dog that jumped in the lake.

My dress clings to me in all the wrong places and the smell – my God.

I blow a strand of hair off my face and silently thank the universe that at least my hair and make-up survived the fountain incident. Small mercies and all that .

Brody reappears, handing me a thick, white, fluffy towel with a grin that says he’s still trying very hard not to laugh.

‘You’ll feel better once you’re dry,’ he promises. ‘You’ll smell better too.’

I scowl at him.

‘Maybe, but I’m not sure it’s going to rescue my dignity,’ I reply as I start towelling off the sludge from my legs.

Brody holds up Al’s shirt. It looks like it might swallow me whole. I must pull a face at it.

‘If this said Balenciaga on it you’d pay a fortune for it,’ he tells me. ‘Just… embrace the oversized look.’

‘Hey, I’m more than happy to wear anything that can double up as a tent to hide in,’ I reply. ‘But could you, er…’

I turn my back to him, hoping it’s obvious I need him to do my zip.

‘Oh, yeah, sure,’ he replies.

He places one hand on my hip as he slowly unzips my dress for me, his knuckles lightly grazing my back. Once it’s down to my waist, he hovers in place for a second.

‘I’ve got it from here,’ I point out, a little short with him.

He chuckles and, like a gentleman (or a man who’s very aware he’ll get punched if he’s caught peeking), he heads for the door.

‘See you outside,’ he tells me.

Finally alone, I fumble with my soggy dress, peeling it from my body, the fabric sticking to my still damp skin.

I head to the bathroom, to shower off my lower half, before I pop Al’s shirt on.

Brody’s room is weirdly neat. No stray socks.

No crumpled-up clothes. Not a thing out of place.

Just a neatly made bed, an aftershave bottle and a toothbrush in the bathroom, and nothing else.

Nothing to give anything away. Then again, he probably only arrived here today, so he hasn’t had time to fill the place with booze, bras and bad decisions.

I know, I know, I don’t know a thing about him, but he’s clearly a very good-looking guy, with a very annoying sense of humour, and they’re always the ones who know how to have a good time.

Finally cleaned up – well, as good as it’s going to get – I button up my shirt dress and zhuzh my hair and take a long hard look at myself in the mirror.

If only I knew how I got here. What was I doing so wrong with Todd that made him want someone else?

And how could he have wound up with such little respect for me that he would bring someone new to our friends’ wedding so soon?

I sigh. Ah, well, time to go back out there and face everyone. Can’t wait.

I open the door and find Brody waiting behind it.

‘I thought I was seeing you outside,’ I tell him.

‘I thought I’d wait for you, make sure you haven’t nicked anything,’ he jokes.

Well, I assume it’s a joke, I don’t find it funny.

‘Actually, now that you mention it, you don’t have a spare belt, do you?’ I ask.

‘For the trousers you’re not wearing?’ he replies with a smirk.

‘Hilarious – no, to cinch this shirt in at the waist, make it actually pass for a dress,’ I tell him.

‘Ah, that’s a good idea,’ he says. ‘Here you go…’

Brody starts undoing the belt he’s wearing.

‘Whoa, no, that’s okay,’ I tell him.

He laughs at me.

‘Don’t be daft, it’ll be fine,’ he replies. ‘They’ll stay on – plus, I figured they’d come off at some point tonight anyway.’

Charming.

I take the belt – which I am grateful for – and it does make Al’s shirt look more like a dress on me. Not the kind of thing you’d wear to a wedding, but it’s better than nothing. To be honest with you, the greatest wedding gift anyone could give Al would be the opportunity to be shirtless.

‘You good now?’ Brody asks.

‘Oh, I’m just fab,’ I reply sarcastically as I examine my soggy shoes. ‘As good as I get.’

He just laughs.

‘Wait there,’ he instructs me.

He disappears into his room for a second and emerges with a pair of flip-flops. I mean, Brody is at least 6’2”, so he’s got a pair of feet to match. They’re way too big for me but also my best option right now.

‘Thanks,’ I tell him.

‘It’s no bother,’ he replies. ‘I thought I might hit the gym tomorrow, and the pool, so I brought them just in case. But the chances I won’t have a hangover are slim.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ I reply.

‘Well, the first one is on me,’ he says. ‘We’ll figure out the other fifty as we go along.’

I smile, just a little.

I suppose I should have more sympathy for Brody, he’s in the same boat as I am (despite me just looking like I had fallen out of it), and I know it’s not a nice place to be.

We step into the hallway, heading back toward the party.

I can already hear the thump of music and the distant roar of laughter.

Perhaps now that the party is in full swing no one will notice me slink back in.

I just want to blend in, to have a bunch of drinks, and have a nice time. I don’t want any more surprises.

God knows what else this day has in store for me. Is it weird that, as terrified as I am, I’m ever so slightly excited?