You never expected to be standing here. If someone had told you ten years ago that you would have been here you would have laughed. Then probably punched them for suggesting such a thing.
But here you were. Alone in the dressing room in an absolutely stunning dress. According to your mother anyway. A bouquet of pale blue flowers sat on a stood next to you as you gazed in the mirror. Bright brown-green eyes stared back at you as for what may have been the millionth time in the past ten minutes you thought how you got here…
Your relationship certainly hadn't been glamorous. Definitely not. He robbed you of your first kiss, your first date, your first dance. And then he moved away to the other side of the country. You didn't here from him in five years.
Then suddenly, he was at the front door of your parent's house, grinning that stupid grin of his that you always hated (but secretly loved). And you didn't yell at him, or push him away. Because you had found a different guy and you thought he was the one. Oh, the naïve mind of a nineteen year old…
Then the git you once called 'boyfriend' proposed to you. You were fucking twenty years old at the time! Then you found out he had cheated on you. Then you found out he only proposed cause he wanted sex. So, you slapped him and dumped his sorry ass. In front of his entire office, mind you.
You sought comfort in the arms of the boy you thought you hated. You may have been slightly tipsy when you kissed him. Of course the break-up hurt. You thought you loved him. But you saw how stupid and naïve you were a few weeks later. Love isn't what was said in the fairytales.
You began a hesitant friendship with him, both slightly forgetting about your tipsy kiss on him. Slowly the friendship grew until it was a firm one. Then a close one. You could confine him in things you couldn't confine in anyone else. Not your best friend. Not your sister. Definitely not your mother. No way in hell your father or brother.
You weren't too shocked when he asked a year later to go on a date. "A proper date," he had said. You then questioned if all the times they went out for lunch or dinner weren't dates. "Did you want them to be?" You nodded your head slowly, cautiously. So you skipped the 'proper date' and got started on a relationship. You were surprised to see that you had actually been really looking forward to this.
Another year later he asked you to move in with him. By this time you were twenty-two and knew exactly what sort of decisions you should make. You thought over it for some time. Your relationship with him was steady, moving at a pace you both found comfortable. He hadn't pressured you into anything. As you agreed to his question, you hoped to all things holy this wasn't a move to get into your pants.
Another year later was when you first brought up the subject about sex. He put the book he was reading (some medical dictionary, you noted) down and took of his glasses. "Would you like to?" Again, you slowly, cautiously nodded. He stared into your eyes for a few moments before meeting your lips with a slow kiss.
You didn't actually make love till a few weeks later. You were nervous at first, this being your first time. But he was caring and considerate and oh so good. Definitely nothing like the fifteen-year-old boy you knew before he moved. He knew where to touch you, where to kiss you, when to apply that slight pressure to your neck. It drove you insane. And you loved every minute of it.
A year later you both sat on the couch, laughing at how your relationship had progressed. He first kissed you halfway through year ten. You had slapped him, hard, across the face. It had left a mark for days. He says it was to get you to shut up as the both of you had been arguing, again. You say it was cause he didn't know how to restrain himself properly.
Your first date had been totally unintentional. More of a study date, per say. You were in a small café across the street from where your friend worked, waiting for her to get on her break. And he came tearing down the street, halting to a stop in front of you and throwing a few sheets of paper down in front of you. You looked up coldly form your coffee. The memory of him stealing your first kiss was still fresh in your mind.
"I need your help," he blurted out before you could say anything. Surprise ran across your face. This was coming from the boy who never asked anyone for help. Taking your silence as a sign to go ahead, he slid in the seat across from you and a waitress came. Idly you noted he had the same coffee order as you did. After the waitress left he began rambling on about he didn't get the current English assignment and he wanted your help as you were best in the year for English. Again surprise ran across your face. This was coming from the boy who never admitted that anyone was better then him.
So you moved to sit next to him and began to explain the work. He listened rapidly, occasionally writing a note down. Another thing you noticed was that he was left handed. And had lovely handwriting. Soon enough he began writing the essay, stopping after every few seconds to have a sip of coffee. By the time your friend got off he was halfway done on both the assignment and his second cup of coffee.
"Will you be okay now?" you remember asking. He looked up and noticed your friend who was looking at the pair of you with interest. He nodded and thanked you before getting back to work. You had barely gone ten steps before he called out your name. Turning, you saw that he had that annoying smirk on his face and felt your stomach drop. "You know, most people would classify this as a date." You slapped him as your friend laughed.
It was a few weeks before the year ten formal when you heard the news that he was moving. To your utmost surprise and shock, you found yourself disliking the fact. You were on your way to the library to do some research for an assignment when he ran up behind you and tugged on your arm. "Where are you going?" he had asked. You answered simply with the library. He gave a sigh of relief and followed you. You didn't send him away. You think this shocked him.
As you were looking for some books he told you of his predicament. The skank of the year had asked him to go with the formal with her and he panicked. He said he was waiting for an answer from another girl. Then he ran and found you.
"So why are you telling me this?" you asked, kneeling down to check the lower shelves. He hesitated before answering. "Go with me please?" You shot up and dropped the books you were holding as you looked at him, shocked. He winced under your gaze. "I know we don't get along to well, but you're the only girl I would really like to go with and-"
You interrupted him by placing a finger on his lips. "Okay." He stared at you shocked for a few seconds before a smile, a genuine smile, not his usual smirk (not that you had seen that a lot theses days), spread across his face. "Really?" In reply you nodded but told him he couldn't go shouting it out to the school. And to wait a few days before telling the skank that the girl said yes. He nodded again and you nodded and bent down to pick up your books.
"Why?" he asked as he bent down as well to help. You thought it over for a few minutes before answering. You told him that he had been behaving different the past term and that he wasn't being stuck-up and conceited as he was before. And the fact that he had said please may or may not have helped. He laughed, a deep laugh that unconsciously sent tingles to your toes, before handing you your books and standing. "I'll pick you up at five-thirty." He then turned and walked away with a spring in his step.
Of course you told your best friend. At first she laughed before realising you were serious. Then she went into formal mode, making sure you had the perfect dress and the perfect shoes and the perfect jewellery and the perfect make-up and the perfect hair. It was the worst three weeks of your life. She was worse than your mother and older sister combined!
When the evening of the formal arrived you were completely nervous. So nervous that your mother had to do your make-up again three times. When the doorbell rang, you were glad that you didn't have a floor length gown or high heels, as you were certain you would have tripped. When your father opened the door and led you outside, you felt the nerves give way to butterflies. Which was more or less the same feeling.
He had certainly brushed up nicely. And he had even gotten you a corsage! You don't know what shocked you more; the fact he got you one or the fact that he knew what one was. He looked you up and down, head to toe, before smiling brightly. "You look amazing," he told you, slipping the bundle of flowers on your wrist. You think it was the first time you blushed due to what a boy had said about you.
Of course, both sets of parents wanted to take a million photos. You finally understood why he picked you up this early, as by the time the photos had finished, the pair of you may have been slightly late.
You were the last people to arrive and neither of you minded. "Will be a better surprise," he said cheerfully, leading you to the door. "A grand entrance of the two people who hate each others guts." You stopped walking and he turned back to you. He questioned if you were okay and got worried when you didn't answer. When you finally looked into his eyes, you saw concern in them and gave a small smile. "I don't hate your guts." He smiled as well. "Good, me neither."
He was right about the surprise though. 'The Golden Couple' of the school, one of your close guy friends and his girlfriend, were overshadowed by the latest development in the relationship of 'The Two Who Couldn't Have a Civil Conversation if Their Lives Depended on It.' Overall, it was one of the best times of your life.
You were definitely upset when he left. More than you could possibly have thought of. You both said you'd try to stay in contact but explained to the other that neither of you were too good at that sort of thing. So eventually you got out of touch but never forgot.
Until the day he turned up at your parents house. And you thought you had moved on. You truly did. And that's where your conversation ended as he straddled you legs and looked you dead in the eye. "I love you." You were quite for a few seconds before smiling softly. "I love you too." Then a round of passionate love making ensured that lasted well into the morning. You were glad that he, they, didn't have many neighbours.
About a month before your ten-year high school reunion the following year, he probably did the riskiest thing he could do to your relationship. He proposed. The boy proposed. But you were twenty-five, not twenty, and you knew how much this boy meant to you. You loved him, and he loved you and so you said yes. Of course, like anything with the pair of you, the proposal wasn't anything romantic. You were sitting on the couch, reading over the appointments you had around the reunion time as he fell into the couch next to you and took to book out of your hands. You were about to tell him off when you saw he was holding something and had the mischievous glint in his eye that he had far to often in high school. He opened his hands, opened the box and said the words as if they were the simplest things to say. "Will you marry me?"
Your mother was over the moon. Your older sister had already married and had two kids while your younger brother had married a year ago and was expecting his own child. Your father gave you a warm hug as your mother bawled her eyes out with happiness and your siblings and their spouses gave their congratulations. You couldn't have been happier.
The two of you kept your engagement quiet. It didn't seem a major deal to you that you need to rush on Facebook and change your relationship status. He didn't either so you only told of few close friends. Your best friend had squealed about it so much that her husband had come running in to the room and asked what was wrong.
The evening of the reunion your fiancée asked if he got to show you and the ring off. You shrugged, saying you didn't care, but you really hoped he did. It would be absolutely gold to see the look on everyone's face. Especially the skank. Especially 'The Golden Couple', despite them being your friends. It would be pure gold.
You spoke to a few teachers first. Of course, your year nine English teacher noticed the ring straight away and called her husband over, who happened to have been your year seven teacher. They both offered their congratulations and you moved on towards the larger part of the hall.
You found your PASS teacher almost straight away and made a beeline towards her. She had been your favourite teacher while you took the elective and couldn't wait to tell her the news. But you had to wait because the skank was talking to her and you didn't want her to know about your news. So you talked to your Science and homeroom teacher, who was your second favourite teacher during your high school years.
The reunion went quite well, despite the bitch fight the skank tried to start with you. By the end of the night, everyone knew about her disapproval of your engagement. But you couldn't care less. You were happy, your fiancée was happy and your friends were happy. Life was good.
A knock on the door makes you jump from your thoughts. Clearing your throat you allowed them to come in. Your best friend, your maid of honour, poked her head around the door. "Nervous?" You nod. "Excited?" You nod again. "Ready for the following gruelling years of hard housework and labour?" You give her a look and she laughed. Grabbing your flowers, she placed them in your hands and pulled the veil over your face. "Beautiful," she whispered, smiling softly. Then she laughed.
You frown and tilt your head. "What?" She laughed again and beckoned you to lean towards her. You do so, still frowning. "Remember when you said there was no way in hell you'd marry Alex? Guess what you are going to be doing in just over forty-five minutes?" You laugh as well before straightening up, rolling your shoulders as you did (a habit you had picked up from said boy). Looking at your friend, you nod and smile. "Ready."
Mother, of course, was in tears even before your father began leading you down the isle. Alex's mother was there with her. They clutched arms and wept into bits of scrap lace. His father was sitting next to his wife, looking around awkwardly and patting her shoulder slightly. You couldn't help smiling a tiny bit. Men…
Your sister was next to him, with her children and husband, smiling. Your brother was in the row behind, giving you thumbs up as his wife beamed, hands resting on her still rather large stomach as your second nephew sat in a baby bed carrier next to her. Alex's older sister was next to him, looking on proudly with her three rowdy children, who were actually quite calm. Her husband then sat on the end of the seat with that small smile that he always had.
You then turn your eyes to the front and your smile grew. Just like your formal, he brushed up nicely. And he was positively radiating happiness. You had never seen him so happy. Well, beside from when you told him you were pregnant…
Next thing you knew dad had stopped and was lifting the veil off your head and giving you a kiss on my cheek. Whatever the priest was saying completely blew over your head as you tried to not tap your foot impatiently. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Alex doing the same.
"Isabelle Skyla Williams," he started slowly, grinning. "You have got to be one of, no the best thing that has ever happened to me. Despite our… different views during high school," you couldn't help but laugh at this and quite a few other people did, "I knew that you would be the girl that I'd marry. And I told you that. The very first time I spoke to you. And then you slapped me for even suggesting such a thing."
You laughed again and raised your hand to the cheek you would so often abuse. "I'm sorry. That was quite stupid of me. But I definitely see now that I was wrong and I love you more than anything in the world." You smiled again as you met his eyes and the next thing you knew he was kissing you. As he pulled back with a wink that promised a lot of fun later, he swept you into to his arms and you let out a yelp, clutching his neck. He laughed, the laugh you loved, and kissed your throat before whispering the exact words you were thinking.
"Oh, how times have changed!"