“Why? What’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why have you been huffing and ignoring each other all night like old lovers?” I asked.
“Like—what?” Stephen mouthed wordlessly for a moment, then grabbed my hand. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” I hurried after him gleefully.
He pulled me into a bush full of fairy lights.
“Here?” I breathed as a branch jabbed into my thigh. “Well, okay, but you better hurry up before this bush gets there first.”
“What?” Stephen looked appalled. “I’m not—I wouldn’t try—not here!”
I felt myself pull an Andrea-like pout; that was the second time tonight he hadn’t gotten my joke.
“Why have you dragged me in here?”
“To tell you about…” Stephen looked nervously over his shoulder. “About Christopher Butkus.”
I stopped fidgeting with the bush at once.Yes!This would be the best gossip I would hear all night, I knew it.
“Go on.”
“It’s not a fun story.” He sounded stern. I nodded and adjusted my expression to one of somber respect.
“We were friends in college. Best friends, actually.”
“You were?” I tried to picture it, but they were so different: tall, fair, innocent-looking Christopher and the smaller, darker, naughtier Stephen.
“Yep. We met in our frat.”
Ugh. So Christopher was a frat guy on top of everything else? Gross.
Wait, what was I saying? That meant my boyfriend was a frat guy too. Yet somehow it wasn’t as surprising for Stephen.
“We did everything together,” Stephen went on. “Took the same classes. Our senior year, we were partners for our final project. Everyone was supposed to come up with a business idea.” Stephen swallowed hard and dropped his eyes; I could tell this memory really upset him. “One night, we were brainstorming, and I came up with this idea…” He paused, letting it sink in. He couldn’t be going where I thought he was going with this, could he? “And we ended up using it for the project. And then, a few years after graduation, imagine my surprise when…” He stopped and looked around; we both gazed into the distance at Christopher, who was under the tent, dancing with Andrea.
“When what?” I prompted, breathless.
“When I heard that he had turned my idea into a real company and gotten filthy rich from it.”
“Oh my God.” My stomach lurched; it was so horrible. “He didn’t even ask you first?”
Stephen shook his head. “Nope. Just took my idea and ran with it. And now look at him. Worth millions. Must be nice.”
“Stephen, I’m so sorry. That’sawful.”
He looked down at me, his face glowing with saintly martyrdom. “You know what? It’s okay. I’ve got a great job. Plenty of money. And, oh yeah…” He gripped my hips and kissed me. “A hot girlfriend. It just, ah, it can be weird to see him. Because of everything that happened.”
“Of course. We won’t say another word to him tonight. Now let’s go dance.”
Whether Christopher and Andrea left soon after or not, I had no idea. I didn’t spare him another thought for the rest of the evening. Stephen and I whirled around the dance floor and, when there was a lull in the energy under the tent, I got the DJ to play “Hava Nagila” and started up a rip-roaring hora. I even got people to hoist the bride and groom up in chairs; they’ll remember that moment for the rest of their lives, bless their Unitarian hearts.
Shortly after the hora, Stephen brought his sweat-slicked face close to mine (how does he look so good sweaty?) and proposed that we find a room in the hotel. An hour of pretty good drunk sex ensued. I couldswearhe was getting better.
Who would have thought? I had a boyfriend (who actually consented to being my boyfriend)—hoorah!—and another reason to hate Christopher Butkus. I decided not to tell Mom the sordid details about her beloved Butkus—for her health.
