'cause our love's the only thing

that could m a t t e r . . .

〰️〰️〰️

I had already downed two glasses of champagne in honor of the newlyweds by the time I was supposed to make my speech. I told myself I started drinking heavily early on for the sake of celebrating, but really I was nervous as fuck.

The ceremony ended within thirty minutes. There was a cocktail hour for the guests and a family photoshoot for the rest of us, dinner was served at seven, then my dad kicked off the speeches once everyone had gotten their food. The man was a natural at public speaking, and it was a guarantee at any family function that he'd get up to "say a few words" as he liked to call it. I wished he passed that gene onto me. Sadly, I was just a fumbling, flushing idiot and alcohol did not help the situation.

After Keone sailed through his best man speech, every word rolling off his tongue as if they were lines in a script he memorized, it was my turn. Collin caught me before he went into the ballroom for cocktail hour and told me that out of all my bad ideas he'd seen throughout our friendship, giving a drunk Maid of Honor speech was the worst one of all. Especially that it wasn't for just any wedding, but for Sutton's wedding.

I kept that in mind, I did, but it slipped out when I toasted to both my dad and Keone's speeches. By then, it was too late to go back. Drinking was the only way I could get myself to come to terms with the idea of being the center of attention in a roomful of too many people that I personally knew.

Keone sat down in his seat next to mine and I plucked the microphone from his fingers. He was smirking at me confidently as if it was a silent challenge to top his speech. Or it was him trying to picture me naked. Either way, I wanted to vomit.

It felt like all the bubbles from the champagne I had drifted up into my head when I stood. I couldn't have been more grateful to be barefoot still or else I already would have tumbled to the floor if I was in heels. The fairy lights hanging from the rafters and flickering tiki torches were vibrating. My breathing that echoed into the mic sounded like I had been underwater for a year and just now came up for air.

Sutton, Koa, and all the guests for the Makana wedding were staring at me. Waiting, smiling in anticipation, wondering what I was doing. Frankly, I was wondering the same thing.

All the bullet points and abbreviated, gibberish words in the notes of my phone evaporated, just like that into thin air. Partially tipsy and mostly anxious, I'd forgotten everything I wanted to say. Somehow I figured that would be better, so it came straight from the heart and my fuzzy mind instead of some pre-written nonsense I knew I'd royally mess up.

"Hi."

My voice ricocheted off the walls and I hadn't realized I even opened my mouth. Both of my hands were on the shaft of the mic, squeezing it like a stress ball. It was a weak start, but at least I got through the first word.

"I'm Bayla, Sutton's younger sister, and that had always been a title that kind of suited me perfectly. I never really had a problem with it, except for when people would confuse us which doesn't make much sense to me because we are so entirely different," I chuckled as I stole a glimpse down at my sister. She was grinning up at me, leaning into Koa's side as he had an arm around her, twiddling with his fingers that hung over her shoulder. In particular, his left ring finger that had now been accented with a wedding band.

"Sutton is many things. She's a force to be reckoned with. She can walk into any room and have all eyes on her without even saying a word. She's dramatic, and neurotic, and frustrating sometimes... but I say all of this with love because as much as she is all of those things, she's also kind. She's someone who will listen to your problems any time of day... or at least pretend to listen," I said, which got a few laughs from the guests. Thankfully, she was still smiling at me when I looked at her again. "She has the most determination out of anyone I've ever known. She's a lover, she's a fighter... and most importantly, now she's a wife.

"I gotta be honest, I never really thought she was the 'settling down' type. I didn't know if there was anyone out there that'd be able to handle her. I mean, you all know Sutton, she's... Sutton. Now that I've been lucky enough to know her with Koa, I don't even really remember what it was like to have her without him. And I don't want to. You guys are the epitome of what life partners should be. I could go on and on about how you're the perfect couple, but I think everyone can see that for themselves. I love you both so much, and I'm truly blessed to have been a part of this journey, to see your love story flourish from the very beginning, and to see where it goes from here."

I took one hand off the mic to grab my glass of champagne, raising it into the air and trying my best not to wobble it too much. "To the Makana's. May your love last mau loa. There isn't a pair of people that were more made for each other than you two."

While everyone lifted their glasses in a toast and took a sip of their drinks, I barely had time to swallow mine before Sutton was on her feet, choking me in a hug as the warm floral notes of her perfume tickled my nose.

"Fuck Valerie, that was the best thing I've ever heard," she mumbled into my hair.

"Who's your favorite Maid of Honor now?" I retorted. She croaked out a laugh and didn't let me go for another minute.

The rest of the speeches carried on smoothly, though I hardly paid any mind to them because of how relieved I was that I made it through mine with no errors. Sutton and Koa had their first honorary dance as husband and wife, they cut the cake, and then the dance floor opened up. My dad started a conga line, Koa was crowd surfing at one point, and my brothers were poorly trying to reenact a dance they choreographed from about fifteen years ago. It was a new level of fun I hadn't felt in a long time.

Collin and I were howling the words to "Dancing Queen" at the top of our lungs when the DJ cleverly shifted into a slow song. There hadn't been any since Koa and Sutton's first dance, or the father-daughter tradition that happened early on. It was all fast-paced, crowd-pleasing stuff. Now, as couples started forming around us on the dance floor, we gave each other a flat look of disapproval.

"You wanna dance?" I jokingly asked.

He sneered, "No offense, but you're not really my type."

With a very offended gasp, I shoved his arm so hard he stumbled back into a random couple already locked in an intimate embrace. The scowls on both of their faces and Collin's timid apology had me choking back my laughter.

"Thanks for that," he grumbled at me.

I wanted to say something back, another sarcastic remark about how uncoordinated he was or how I didn't even know those people so it didn't matter, but I couldn't. The man that had come up beside us in the middle of our antics rendered me speechless.

I never thought the mere presence of a person could paralyze me, but Gus and Donatella were probably the only people worthy of doing so.

"Can I steal her for a sec?"

Gus aimed the question at Collin, but he was looking at me. Sapphire eyes dead set on mine like every other time he had looked at me on this trip. The muscles in his face were working overtime to hide his smile and come across as impassive.

I knew that wasn't the case. I could see right through that icy gaze better than anyone. He was scared shitless.

I glared at Collin with wide eyes and he was grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah, sure. Take all the time you need," he chirped. Without another second wasted, he disappeared into the throng of swaying couples. He had the nerve to wink at me, too.

Gus and I stood about a foot apart from each other, unsure of what to do next. Everyone surrounding us was in their own individual worlds, with heads on shoulders, fingers intertwined, and secrets being shared, all while we were clueless in the middle of it. It really didn't have to be this awkward, but shit, it was.

My focus was glued to the floor when his left hand leisurely placed itself on my hip, a soft touch as if he were asking permission. I granted it by taking one step closer and settling my hands on his shoulders, my eyes skipping up to the collar of his dress shirt. His other hand found my empty right hip and we stayed like that for a few seconds.

We could've fit an entire person in between us if we wanted to.

"Is this okay?" He asked.

"Yeah," I breathed, chewing on the corner of my bottom lip. I still wasn't looking at him.

It felt like the first time we ever danced at homecoming. It was the fall of our junior year of high school, two months after Gus accidentally gave me that beer at Quinn's party. Two months from when he crossed the line we had between us designated as "just classmates". Two months when I realized I could love him for the rest of my life.

The fleeting flashback made me see that it wasn't actually awkward. It never was with us, and it never would be. It only felt like that because I was making it awkward. Sure, it was a weird situation considering we were broken up and hadn't held a proper conversation in weeks. We never fully reconciled or got over what happened. I wasn't sure if either of us ever would.

On the surface it could have been awkward, but we both knew it was home.

His fingers curled around my hips and made their way up to my waist, mapping out every crevice of my body that he knew with his eyes closed and back turned. He was moving us side to side with the song, leading the way while I followed the motions. It was only another passing moment when he nudged me closer.

My hands coasted along the expanse of his shoulders until I interlocked them behind his neck. His arms wrapped around me so tight I thought they'd circle me twice, his palms warm on the skin of my exposed back. I just about had my nose pressed up against his chest, unabashedly inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne and allowing it to intoxicate me. I could feel his jaw resting on my temple, the facial hair I'd seen yesterday now trimmed with only the tiniest bit of stubble starting to come in again.

I had shut my eyes and completely forgot where we even were when he spoke up, his mouth on the shell of my ear.

"This looks like your prom dress," he murmured. I could hear his brazen smile as he made the same observation I did last night. I had to have known he'd remember it, given how special that prom was for the both of us. "Sutton looked great, clearly, but personally I couldn't keep my eyes off you during the whole ceremony."

"I know, I saw," I grinned absentmindedly.

"I was hoping you would."

I couldn't even hear the song we were dancing to anymore. All that I could grasp was his voice, every low utterance and raspy cadence seeping into my brain like I was learning a new language. The ground beneath us, the people surrounding us, the reason we were here; it all became insignificant.

The only thing that mattered was that I was in his arms again and it felt so goddamn right.

"You know, we never swapped Christmas gifts," he said out of nowhere.

I just smiled a little even though he couldn't see my face. It was still buried in his chest while my mind was buried in his smell and his touch and the mere thought of his eyes.

"Yeah, you're right," I replied softly.

With all that had happened with us in the last month or so, Christmas presents were the last thing on my mind. I honestly hadn't gotten anything for anyone, given the fact that this wedding consumed my life and every paycheck I got, and went shopping two days before the holiday. That being said, we were broken up, so I didn't think to get him a gift. Evidently, it was pretty important to him.

"Are we ever gonna do that?" He questioned then.

The song abruptly ended and transitioned into something more upbeat. It was a subtle cue that our dance was over. Physically yes, it was over, but the inconceivable chemistry that we would always have and not a single person could not deny it made it feel like we'd be dancing forever.

I could force myself to act like I didn't feel anything for Gus, but I'd never actually be able to do it. He was like such a vital organ to me that I couldn't picture life without him, whether we were together or not.

I pulled myself away from the safe haven I created in his chest and finally looked at him again. His brows were raised expectantly, his hands still fastened to me like he wouldn't let me leave until I answered.

A simper tugged at my lips as I replied, "Maybe."

His stony blue gaze narrowed in amusement. A chill shot up the length of my body, from my toes to the tip of my spine.

"Hm," he hummed, unimpressed.

"I'll catch you later," I said once his hands released me.

He thoughtfully nodded, as I let his eyes mercilessly rake over my frame for a moment. God only knew what was going through his mind. I did the same to him, admiring the fact that he ditched his suit jacket so he was only wearing a white button up and black pants. The sleeves of his shirt were carelessly rolled halfway up his forearms, and the slim cut of his slacks either left little to the imagination or I just knew his physique too well.

Before he saw one last shiver roll through me, I skittered away to the bar.

There was no line for drinks when I made it off the dance floor in one piece. The elderly bartender behind the counter greeted me with an intrigued look on his leathered face, likely wondering why I was out of breath or why I hadn't given him my order yet. I didn't have an answer to either of those.

Alcohol was my vice. An honest friend, a hearty dose of the truth. It would squash all the butterflies in my stomach and remind me exactly of the man that Gus was. It'd stir up the stagnant feelings I had become so used to over the last few weeks that I almost neglected every reason on why we fell apart. I craved a blissful stupor almost as much as I craved the brush of Gus' fingers on me, and I could only allow myself to have one of those.

I had to admit, we were worth fighting for. We deserved a civilized talk about what to do and where to go from here. He and I both knew this wasn't how it was supposed to end. But I was too sober to deal with it mentally and this wasn't the right time. When was the right time? I had no idea.

"Um..." I stammered, "A shot of Patrón. Actually, make it two."

With one short nod, the bartender spun around and started pouring the shots. That was when I noticed someone standing right next to me.

A gloating Collin wearing a smirk I could've smacked right off his face.

"I saw that," he spat, leaning an elbow on the counter as he turned to me.

"S-saw what?" I spluttered pathetically.

He rolled his eyes at my lame deflection. "You dancing with Gus. Seemed pretty friendly, might I add. Were you guys talking? I mean, I know you still love each other but that was–"

"I get it," I cut him off.

The bartender sat the two shots down in front of me and I quickly thanked him before he stepped aside and pretended not to eavesdrop on our conversation.

"I'm just saying," Collin sang with his hands raised in surrender. "It looked like... nothing ever changed between you two."

He was hesitant on the last part of that sentence, but I knew he had a point. A really good one, at that. For a minute, I convinced myself nothing had changed between us either.

I shuddered to myself and stared at the crystal clear liquor in the shot glasses, muttering, "I don't know what's going on. I'm too sober for this."

"Bayla, you haven't been sober since Thanksgiving."

"Oh, shut the fuck up," I snapped back, then I took a shot glass in each hand and put away one right after the other.

Collin and the bartender were giving me the same look of pure shock, with WTF and are-you-okay? written all over their faces. I shrugged and respectively told them, "Get your own shot. Can I get two more please?"

〰️〰️〰️

My bare feet slapped against the tiles of the lobby floor as we ran across it hand in hand, dodging late night stragglers and heading straight for the elevator. The lights had been muted and dimmed to suit whatever unreasonable hour it was, and that I didn't know. It could have been early morning, it could have been a Tuesday afternoon. Heightened hormones and the best companion, alcohol, could do that for me.

Gus' index finger impatiently pressed on the button to go up, the two of us giggling at absolutely nothing. If a passerby saw us, and someone definitely did, they'd think we were insane. Or drunk. Or stupid. All of the above, really.

The doors opened what seemed like half an hour later and we staggered into the elevator together. With one hand, Gus smacked the button for the tenth floor, then he disentangled the other from mine and snaked it around my waist so he could tug me into his side. Both of my arms enveloped his torso in a snug, silent vow.

My head lolled back so I could see him and he was already looking down at me, his smile so contagious I felt it on my own face.

"You're pretty," he mumbled, lifting the free hand that wasn't cemented to my hip and dragging his fingertips under my jaw. It was a minuscule gesture that felt electrifying on my skin, that left flames in its wake as if no one had ever touched me that way before.

"No, you are," I mimicked his soft tone. I had no choice but to sound that way; every part of me went weak for him and the proof was in my voice.

I was too busy imagining plummeting myself into a body of water the same color as his eyes that his next move caught me by surprise. His wandering fingers curved around the back of my neck and he guided my lips to his, like the missing key sliding into a lock, sealing my fate that this was meant to be. It had all the spark of a very first kiss with the crackling, tangible passion we always had. Like rediscovering familiar territory, or remembering something you hadn't thought of in years.

The ride up to the tenth floor wasn't long at all, but I could've happily spent all my days in that elevator.

Eventually the doors separated, as did our mouths. Gus led us down the hallway, his hand idling on my back while my arms remained around the trunk of his body. The pattern on the carpet under our feet looked even more obscure, the filigree actively swirling with each step we took.

Gus fumbled for the keycard in the pocket of his slacks, cursing under his breath which forced a giggle out of me. I thought he'd never find it until the door popped open to what was our room. We let go of each other so he could flick on a tiny lamp in the corner, and I dropped my sad bouquet of flowers along with some crumpled paper onto the floor. A brochure, or a flyer, or something that didn't matter. I didn't even know why or when I was holding it.

And suddenly standing before him in the middle of the room fully clothed, I had never felt more naked in my life. I accepted that I was nervous; so scared and yet I had no reason to be. This was Gus. This was home.

"Are you okay?" I heard him ask.