โOurย ๏ฌrst foray into teamworkย is off to a bumpy start,โ I hiss, cha-cha- ing real smooth as instructed.
Eli slides me a look as he hitch-steps. โDonโt judge our abilities on this.
Remember the ring yesterday?โ
How could I forget? Iโve been playing it on an endless loop, minus the ring-savingโhow it felt to have his arms around me again, the way his lips nearlyโ
โItโs not us,โ Eli continues, reaching out to steady me as I stumble. โItโs him.โ
โAnd then usually I transition right into โCotton Eye Joeโ from the โCha- Cha Slide,โ โ Danny Diamond calls out, adjusting the fedora perched on his head. A sequin leaps poetically from his red vest, landing near the toe of his saddle shoe.
I had a sinking feeling when the address we entered into Google Maps led us to a dilapidated Napa strip mall, but I forced myself not to judge a book by its cover.
Turns out, I should have. Adam and Graceโs potential DJ for the biggest day of their lives bears an uncanny resemblance to the principal fromย Sheโs the Man, a thought thatโs distracted me every second of the thirty-three minutes heโs walked us through โthe experienceโโa live demonstration of his typical wedding set, where participation is required.
โI love โCotton Eye Joe,โ Danny,โ Adamโs voice rings out. โGreat vision there.โ
I glance at Eliโs phone propped up on a rickety coffee table in the โlobby,โ which is the table squeezed between two sagging, puke-green couches on the other side of the room.
We dialed in Adam and Grace when we got here and since then Iโve watched as Adam has moved through the five stages of grief. Grace dipped while Danny was in the middle of explaining why โThe Chicken Danceโ is
still relevant, claiming nausea (same), but Adamโs been with us for the entire debacle.
That fifth stage of grief? Trolling.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Eli roll his. Iโm almost certain Adamโs never even heard that song; he doesnโt acknowledge nineties pop music.
Eli nods his chin toward the phone. โItโs intervention time. Weโve got three minutes before he loses it.โ
The first notes of โCotton Eye Joeโ hit like the beginnings of food poisoning, as a rumble in my gut. I hold a finger up toward Danny. โWe need a quick intermission to chat with the groom. Be back in a sec.โ
He throws me a dazzling smile. โNo problem, Iโll keep the music pumping.โ
Thanks to my enthusiastic participation, Iโve managed to do what I couldnโt with Margot: capture Danny Diamondโs undying adoration. Unfortunately, itโs useless to me.
I drag Eli off the scuffed dance floor and over to Adam. We crouch down, scooching closer to fit onscreen, which puts Eliโs thigh against mine from knee to hip. A waft of his pheromone-laced, spicy scent drifts right up my nose. It might as well be going straight into my veins; my mind goes blank, caught up in an Eli Mora sensorial storm.
Iโve tried my damnedest to forget what happened yesterday, but every time Eli gets within six feet of me, itโs like weโre back in that kitchen. Iโm hearing the tortured breath he let out when he pulled me tight to his body, feeling the raging beat of his heart, hearing him tell me to pull away, because he couldnโt.
Maybe it was all muscle memory and nostalgia, but certain parts of me arenโt getting the message.
โHey, bud.โ Eliโs greeting to Adam is low. It rumbles through me, shaking me out of my haze.
โUh, yeah, what the fuck?โ Adam hisses back. โAre we seriously getting stuck with the โChicken Danceโ man?โ
I grimace. โThereโs no one else?โ
โNot within a mile of our budget.โ He runs a hand over his face, groaning. โIย amย cursed. This is karma for stealing that car senior year.โ
โWasnโt that an accident?โ I ask.
โYes!โ he exclaims, throwing up his hands. โDoesnโt mean it isnโt the reason for my curse.โ
Eli leans in. โAdam, youโve done so many more curse-worthy things in your life.โ
โBetween the two of us, we could come up with a much stronger list,โ I agree.
He raises an eyebrow at me. โTen things, at least.โ
โTwenty, probably,โ I muse, sliding him a look. โStarting with theโโ
โTheย thing, right,โ Eli catches on immediately, dipping his chin as a tiny, conspiratorial grin pulls at the corner of his mouth. Weโve teased Adam like this a hundred times since we broke up. But this is the first time in over five years itโs felt natural, not like a performance.
It should scare meโand it does. But it also feeds something Iโve shut away for so long.
โWhat would you put that one at, curse-worthy wise?โ he asks, shifting on the balls of his feet. His knee presses more firmly against mine and I let it.
โHas to be number one.โ
โReally? I was going to say three, because of theย otherย thingโโ
I let out a low whistle, glancing at Adam, whoโs watching us with his arms crossed, his expression bemused. โI forgot about that. Extremely curse-worthy. Definitely number-one material.โ
โGood thing you have us to keep you honest, Kiz,โ Eli says. โAccidental grand theft auto doesnโt evenโโ
โOkay, you dickheads,โ Adam says, laughter finally breaking free. โInstead of doing your banter-attack thing, why donโt you take care of me emotionally? Save the roasts for your best people speech.โ
โIโm not going to roast you,โ I assure him, picturing the handwritten speech I completed weeks ago. โItโs the perfect mix of charming and touching, actually. Which is exactly what the rest of your wedding will be.โ
โYeah, and itโs going to be musically backed by the fucking โHokey Pokey,โ โ Adam says, but his mouth twists into an easier smile. Weโre turning a corner.
Eli leans in to close the sale. โListen, youโre not getting anything out of watching this. Georgia and I will take care of the rest of the appointment. Go hang out with your wife.โ
Adam wags a finger. โNot my wife yet.โ
โIn five days, though,โ Eli says, and his voice drops into a sweet, cajoling timbre that whispers across the back of my neck. โAnd itโs going to be awesome, I promise.โ
Adam sighs. โRight. I need to focus on that.โ
โYes, and weโll focus on this. We wonโt walk out of here without a plan, okay?โ Eli holds a fist up to the screen. Adam does, too, with a smile thatโs less anxious than it was two minutes ago.
His eyes dart to me and I nod, tucking away every trace of my doubt. โWeโve got this.โ
โLove you, squad, thanks for always having my back.โ On a dime, his fond smile turns into a smirk. โGeorge, donโt end up on any tables if he plays Lil Wayne, okay?โ
I let out an indignant gasp as Eliโs shoulder shakes against mine. โThat happenedย oneย timeโโ
The call ends.
โLittle asshole,โ I mutter.
โI mean,ย Iย wonโt stop you,โ Eli says, โif thatโs where the music takes you.โ
When I glance at him, he runs a hand over his mouth, wiping away a smug grin.
โThe music willย notย take me.โ
โOh, uhโฆโ The last thing in this world I need is to be pressed up against Eli while some love song plays. โI think we understand how that works. Actuallyโโ
โThatโs great,โ Eli speaks up, walking back to the dance floor. He turns to me as the overhead light dims, holding out a hand, his gaze intent.ย Get over here, is the message.
I go.
The music starts as I step into the cradle of his body. Itโs an old Norah Jones song, but still shockingly modern compared to anything else Dannyโs played. I wrap one arm around Eliโs neck, letting him take my right hand in his. It feels like that hug yesterday, but with intention.
I know exactly what Iโm doing and Iโm doing it anyway, because Eli asked me to.
The cutout in my pale blue summer dress is suddenly a liability. Itโs at my lower back, exactly where Eli lays his hand, and itโs like being electrocuted, like being liquefied from the inside out. Iโm barely human, just a wildly beating heart and spiraling attraction.
โWhy are we doing this?โ I croak out.
It takes him a beat to respond. โBecause weโre rallying right now. Weโre going to come up with an idea and when this song is over, weโre going to pitch it to Danny and get the fuck outta here, then drink an entire bottle of wine in celebration.โ
I manage a laugh, my mouth nearly at his neck. His skin turns textured right there, tiny hairs standing on end, and I huff out another breath to watch it happen again. โAll right, letโs rally. Before Danny interrupted us, you said, โWhy donโt weโฆโ โ
โIโโ He pauses. His fingers graze up my spine, then still, remembering we donโt do that anymore. โNo idea. I think I was about to say something terrible so you could riff off it with something genius.โ
I squeeze my eyes shut. โYou overestimate me.โ โYou underestimate yourself.โ
The compliment does its job, as he probably intended. My brain kicks into fix-it mode, writing out options, crossing each one out as I get to them.
But thenโ โA list.โ
โA list,โ he repeats, a low murmur across my cheek.
โWeโll give him a list of songs he can play, and tell him he canโt deviate from it. Weโll pay him extra for it if we have to. Adam has about five hundred Spotify playlists we can pilfer from to make sure itโs what he wants.โ
Eli pulls back, a smile blooming. โSee? Genius.โ โIt could work, right?โ
โItโs our best shot by far. We have nothing to lose except โCotton Eye Joe.โ โ
I start to extricate myself. โGreat, letโsโโ
โFinish the song.โ Eliโs palm is warm pressure at the small of my back, and it brings a flash of memory with itโhis hand right there, pressing me down onto our bed. โI donโt want to insult his โexperienceโ before we ask for a deviation from it.โ
โSure,โ I whisper. โOkay.โ
We keep dancing. It feels incredible. Like torture. I finesse it in my mind until I can rationalize why we donโt have to stop: this is teamwork. Our new dynamic is an inarguable improvement from what weโve been doing the last five years. If I can live in this space without slipping further into one that might hurt me, this week will be a success.
Itโs just that Iโve only ever fully fallen into things with him: friendship, love, turning him into a stranger. I have to be careful to keep myself right hereโin his arms, fine, but only for this moment.
When the song is over, I nearly fling myself out of Eliโs hold. My hip catches on his still-curled fingers, and he looks at me, dazed.
โDanny,โ I say, unable to tear my gaze away from Eliโs for one second, then another. Finally, his expression clears, and he nods, a silentย the floor is yours.
I turn to Danny, hands clasped in front of me. โWeโd like to make you a deal.โ
 |
Iโm curled up in bed,ย my pillow person at my back, mindlessly scrolling on my phone.
I canโt sleep. I got close earlier when Eli was in the pool and the sound of his measured strokes lulled me into a sort of trance.
But itโs silent now, well after midnight, and my brain is on an acid trip of thought patterns. Everything is either Eli-shapedโfamiliar and heated and somehow also completely differentโor disaster-shapedโa list of the things that refuse to get checked off.
Danny Diamond wasnโt too keen on our idea.
โNow, Georgia, I like you, but Iโve been doing this for nearly thirty years. I know what works and what doesnโt.โ His mouth pulled into a disappointed line. โYou can take me or leave me, and by the sounds of this request, youโre going to have to leave me.โ
It was my idea, and my fault he rejected us. It doesnโt matter that we wouldnโt have been able to hire him otherwise. All I can see is another thing thatโs gone wrong.
I toggle back to my text messages with Jamie. Sheโs been checking in every day and Iโve been responding, but tonight she wrote,ย Okay, your text messages are a) too bubbly and b) way too infrequent. Is everything good up there??
My response was a paragraph just to prove her wrong, but the message boiled down to the same as all the others. I canโt tell her that the curse is alive and well:ย Everything is good. Weโre making progress! Miss you, canโt wait to see you Friday. Xo
I didnโt hear from her after that, so I assume the text did its job.
I close my eyes, manifesting a lobotomy, a win. Some sign that everything is going to be okay, that things will at some point turn the corner from mindfuck to the way I need my life to be: compartmentalized and controlled.
What feels like seconds later, I wake with a start. Was thatโ?
Yes, a knock at my window. The ceiling swirls above me while I figure out what year Iโm in, if Iโm sixteen-year-old Georgia and Iโm going to sit up and find sixteen-year-old Eli at my window, beckoning me outside like he used to.
I sit up, my eyes flying to the window. Thereย isย someone there, covered in white. A ghost.
My mouth opens to scream.
โGeorgia,โ the ghost says, exasperated.
But itโs not a ghost. Itโs twenty-eight-year-old Eli, asking me to let him
in.
