Page 9 of Going Overboard

Longest. Meal. Of. My. Life.

It’s such a shame, because the food was amazing, but I absolutely wolfed it so that I could slink off to reception, to fess up to my stupid mistake.

It was a buffet of sorts. Everyone went up, a table or two at a time, to help themselves to the hog roast, potatoes, salad, bread – all sorts.

I thought, by getting a smallish plate, I could eat it as quickly as possible and make my excuses, but Neil very kindly said he would get me mine, so that I could continue hiding from Todd, which I guess is my number one priority.

If I can get to the end of the day without him seeing me – or at least without the two of us having to interact – then I might come out of this relatively unscathed.

Well, publicly unscathed, I’m sure when I’m alone in bed tonight I’ll have a different take.

Well, at least I’ve eaten – although I have had a couple more cocktails, so I’m definitely what you would call more than tipsy. Now it’s time for the wedding tradition of going to reception to report your stolen car. What do you mean that’s not tradition ?

I’m inside the hotel now, walking past where the toilets are. As I pass the gents, a man walks out and… it’s him! It’s Ryan! The not valet.

I halt my horses, stopping dead on the spot, almost bumping into him.

‘You!’ I say, pointing at him just in case there was any question mark around who I’m talking to. ‘You stole my car!’

‘Me?’ he says with a chuckle, pointing at himself.

He isn’t wearing his jacket now, so no name badge, but I know it’s him. Deep brown eyes, muscular frame, tall, handsome – which I am loath to admit, now I know he’s a car thief.

‘Yes, you!’

‘I didn’t steal your car,’ he corrects me. ‘You gave me your keys.’

‘Because I thought you were the valet…’

‘Why? Because I’m a man?’ he asks accusingly. I think he’s joking around, but I’ve no time for it.

‘What the fuck?’ I blurt. ‘No, because you were standing next to a sign that said “wedding parking” and it had an arrow pointing at you.’

He laughs at me. I want to punch him.

‘It was pointing towards the wedding parking,’ he replies, talking to me like I’m an idiot.

Am I an idiot? No, because…

‘But your jacket had a name badge on!’

‘I’m part of the wedding,’ he replies. ‘A groomsman. We all have our names on our jackets. It’s what Al wanted.’

‘I didn’t see a name badge on Al’s jacket,’ I tell him, because I would have noticed that, surely?

‘How many Als could you see when you were talking to him?’ he jokes – obviously implying I’m drunk .

‘I’m not drunk, I’m serious,’ I snap. ‘I didn’t see a name badge on Al.’

I fold my arms like a pissed-off bouncer, refusing to let any of his bullshit in.

‘It’s Al,’ he says with a shrug. ‘We’re lucky he still has a shirt on at this point. He hasn’t been wearing his jacket, none of us have, it’s too warm today.’

I mean, that’s a good point, Al does love to take his top off for virtually no reason.

‘So… why did you take my keys?’ I ask after a few seconds of bemused silence – unless you count the volumes his smug grin and his stupid dimples speak.

‘Because I’ve just always really wanted to drive a Fiat 500,’ he says, deadpan. Then his grin returns. ‘To help you out, obviously. I knew you were with the wedding so I figured I could get them to you later. They’re in my room, for safekeeping.’

‘I want them back now,’ I insist.

‘Are you sure?’ he checks. ‘It’s not like you’ll be driving anytime soon, is it?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re pickled,’ he says with a snort.

‘I am not… pickled,’ I protest. ‘And I’m not planning on driving, I just don’t trust you.’

‘Well, I don’t trust you, you’ve got a bit of an intense vibe about you,’ he says. ‘So I’ll go get them later, how about that?’

Ryan walks back towards the wedding. I follow him, unwilling to back down.

‘You can’t hold my keys to ransom,’ I say, following him as fast as my heels will allow.

‘Whoa, who said anything about a ransom?’ he asks. ‘I’m just keeping them safe. The night is young, the wedding has hardly gotten started. I’m planning on getting pickled myself, actually. ’

‘All the more reason to – whoa!’

My ankle wobbles and I stumble. Ryan is around like a shot, catching me in his arms, saving me from face-planting my way back into the marquee.

‘Erm, thanks,’ I tell him, the gratitude genuine but it still tastes bad in my mouth. ‘That was…’

‘Seriously impressive,’ he says, finishing my sentence for me. ‘I’ve made some good catches in my time, but a whole drunk woman falling for me in gigantic shoes might be a personal best.’

‘I fell towards you, not for you,’ I correct him, shoving him off. ‘And another thing?—’

‘There you are!’ Kira says.

She practically floats in my direction, in her beautiful dress.

‘I’m about to toss the bouquet and I thought, with you being, you know, newly single, you should be there,’ she tells me, taking me by the arm.

Kira is such a genuine person so I know this is coming from a good place but, honestly, I’d rather get up on the makeshift stage and tell everyone I gave my car keys to a random man.

‘Oh, right, erm…’

What can I say?

‘You two know each other?’ Kira says, surprised.

‘Not really,’ I reply.

‘Princess was just ranting about how there’s no valet parking here,’ Ryan says – I’d call it our own little joke but only he finds it funny.

‘That’s not like you,’ Kira says as she drags me across the marquee, out onto the lawn where the toss is happening.

‘No, it’s not, is it?’ I reply. ‘He’s just joking. It’s just, you know, not funny, so I get your confusion.’

Kira is a woman on a mission, so she pretty much ignores whatever it is we’re doing here. And for some reason Ryan is following us.

‘Are you coming to catch the bouquet?’ I ask him. ‘Seeing as though you’re just sooo good at catching things.’

‘No, but I can give you some pointers, if you like?’

‘Go on then,’ I reply.

‘Have five less drinks two hours ago,’ he teases me.

I seethe.

‘Okay, everyone, all the single ladies, line up, get behind me, it’s bouquet-tossing time,’ Kira announces.

It becomes very quickly apparent that I am the only one standing here. Incredible.

‘Erm, Jessa,’ Kira says, shuffling awkwardly back towards me. ‘I hadn’t realised you’re the only single girl here so… do you just want to take them? It seems daft, to throw them to you.’

This whole scenario has daft written all over it.

I mean, it’s hard to say which is more embarrassing, being the only person trying (and potentially failing) to catch the bouquet or just being handed them like a loser, by default, as the only one here who has no one.

I know what the smart thing is: just say yes, grab the flowers – the participation ribbon – flash a grateful smile, get it over with. But before I can even muster a polite, dead-behind-the-eyes nod of agreement, another voice chimes in.

‘I want a chance to catch it,’ she says.

The whole group turns like we’re in a school play and someone just missed their cue.

Oh, and here she is, Nikki – Todd’s Nikki, I guess – here to terrorise me some more.

Kira blinks.

‘But… you’re not single?’

Kira nods towards Todd so she doesn’t have to say it .

‘I’m not married,’ Nikki replies with a shrug. ‘Not yet. There’s a difference. I like the sound of wedding bells though, so I want in.’

I might not be able to muster a smile but my poker face is staying intact at least.

Kira practically winces as she looks over at me for my approval. Well, what else can she say? She can’t exactly say no, I’m rigging the bouquet toss so my sad single friend can get it because you have her boyfriend now. And I can’t really say anything other than…

‘It’s fine,’ I say brightly, even though it’s far from fine. What I want to say is: Can this girl not? What kind of psychotic power play is this? You’d think she would show me mercy.

Kira takes her place, ready to throw her flowers.

Well, I can’t back down now, because if there’s one thing worse than participating in this ridiculous nonsense, it’s refusing to, because that would make me look sad and pathetic and like I don’t wish them well (even though I truly don’t).

I can see Kelsey, next to us, watching me anxiously like it’s the final showdown of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly . I’m not sure which one of the three this whole mess is supposed to be – it can’t be good though.

Kira flings her bright red flowers over her head, sending them hurtling towards me and my rival.

I glance at Nikki – who is fully committing, clearly, with her arms out, knees bent, like a professional athlete. I reach out too, not to win exactly, more just… to not lose.

And that’s when my ankle rolls in my big stupid heel that was not designed with sports (if we can call this sports) in mind.

Suddenly I’m stumbling sideways, crashing directly into Nikki, sending us both down onto the grass. So, I guess if this were a sport, wrestling would be the one, and if we’re calling good, bad or ugly, this has ugly written all over it.

Nikki must have landed in a muddy patch of grass because it’s all over her cream dress. She screams as though it were blood.

‘Did you do that on purpose?’ she shrieks at me, scrambling to her feet. Todd rushes over to help her – of course.

I blink up from the grass, stunned. Of course I didn’t!

I notice Ryan, standing next to me, holding the flowers, which means he either caught them himself, or he picked them up from the floor to redistribute. God knows to whom.

I look over at Todd and, boy, does he look angry. His nostrils are flaring. The last time I saw that was when Leeds got knocked out in… I want to say a cup final but I also don’t really know what that entirely means. Just that it makes grown men who opt to hide their emotions cry.

‘We need to take this outside,’ he says, reminding us of our surroundings.

‘We are outside,’ Ryan jokes.

‘Come on, over by the fountain,’ Todd says, ignoring him.