‘You are invited to attend the wedding of Thomas Michael Fletcher to Marie Ella Sampson.’

I stared down at the golden letters on the thick cream paper. It hurt. It physically hurt how much I just wanted to grab it and rip it into shreds. Like a sick new form of wedding confetti. I didn’t want to know that Tom was getting married- not to anyone. He wasn’t supposed to get married! He wasn’t meant to make me change from deliriously hopeful to depressingly hopeless.

I needed to believe that there was a chance for me. I needed the slightest delusion that Tom might feel the same as I did. Without that delusion, I was sunk. I had nothing to survive on. And Tom getting married removed all hope.

I couldn’t remember when my feelings for Tom had changed. They just suddenly had, and I realised that I had fallen for him. I had fallen for my band-mate. One of my best friends. All of a sudden, I just wanted to kiss him, touch him.

But then he met her.

It would be so much easier if I could fault her. But I couldn’t. She was damn near perfect. Nice, funny, pretty, understanding, considerate. She was exactly the kind of girl that Tom deserved, and the type that the selfish part of me didn’t want him to have. But no matter how I tried, I couldn’t not like Marie.

I looked up as the doorbell rang, and stood from the table. I walked down the corridor to the door, and pulled it open to reveal Tom’s grinning face. More pain. “Hey, Harry,” he chirped, stepping in. “Ree wanted me to bring round some of this amazing cake. She thought you’d like it.”

As he strolled down the hall towards my kitchen casually, I sighed and shut my door. The last thing I wanted was to be faced with him… When I walked into the kitchen, the Tupperware container was on the counter, and he was studying the wedding invite that was still on the table with a half-smile.

“Those cost far too much…” he remarked, running a finger down it with a certain fondness. He grinned at me, “That reminds me: Ree says you haven’t RSVP’d yet.”

I sighed, moving to open the container and hoping the casual movement would mask what I was about to say. “That’s because I’m not going.”

I was wrong. He moved quickly, and his hand slammed down on the lid before I could even finish prising it open, forcing it back down again. I looked up into his confused eyes. “Please tell me that’s a sick joke,” he said in a low voice.

I shook my head, “It’s not.”

His lower lip trembled slightly, and I immediately felt guilty. He was really looking forward to his wedding, and now I was putting a downer on it. “Why not?”

“Because I just…can’t.” Couldn’t watch him get married. Couldn’t watch him commit his life to someone else. I would do something rash if I went, and the last thing I wanted to do was wreck it for him.

“Why not?” he demanded. I didn’t say anything, and an annoyed look crossed onto his face. “Harry, if you’re skipping out on my bloody wedding, the least you can offer me is an explanation.”

I pushed away from the counter, gritting my teeth, “Does it matter?”

“Yes, it does, as a matter of fact,” he snapped, spinning to face me again. “It matters why one of my best friends doesn’t want to come to my wedding.”

I just grunted and pulled out a chair at the table, sitting down and tracing the shapes in the wood with one finger. What was I meant to say to him? I couldn’t tell him the truth. That would ruin everything I was trying to preserve. While my head was down, I heard him moving about, and after a moment another chair scraped out and he sat down as well, sliding a chuck of the carrot cake over to me.

“I’m not going anywhere, Harry. So you might as well just talk to me.”

I stuck my finger in the icing idly, scooping up a little bit to put in my mouth. Damn it, I thought as the taste hit me. She could bake as well. “I just don’t want to go.”

“So, what? Are you morally opposed to weddings now?” he demanded.

“No.”

He waited a beat. “You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

“No.” I tore a bit of cake off now, chewed on it slowly. I had to admit, it was great cake.

Tom blew out a breath, “I don’t understand…”

“Maybe that’s better for you.”

“Harry, please…” His voice was softer now. Pleading.

I shook my head, “I’m sorry, Tom.”

Silence fell for a few minutes. I continued to pick at my cake as he watched me. Then I couldn’t take it anymore, and I stood up from the table. I strode to the fridge, yanked it open. “Want a drink?”

“No. I want an explanation.”

I sighed, “Well, I don’t have that chilling in my fridge. You’ll have to pick something else.”

“Harry.”

“Please drop it, Tom,” was my weary request.

He stood up, looking angry now, “No, I won’t drop it! Because it’s not fair that you can say that you’re not coming to my wedding without even so much as an explanation!”

“Tom, don’t make me say it.”

“Just say it!”

“I can’t watch you get married!” I shouted, slamming the fridge and turned to face him again. “I just can’t! Not to her!”

He looked shocked, and his eyes widened, “What? Do you not like Marie?”

“I like her just fine,” I said honestly, moving towards the kitchen door. “She’s really nice. You would do really well if you married her.”

“Then what the hell’s your problem?” he demanded, following me out of the door. “Why don’t you like her?”

I turned on my heel so I was staring back at him, “It’s not her! It’s you!”

“Me?!” he spluttered. “What the hell did I do?”

I took a step back, put a hand to my head. “You did nothing. You didn’t do anything. You were just being yourself and… I didn’t mean to.”

He just continued to stare at me, “What do you mean?”

There was only one thing I could do to explain it to him, so I moved forward and crushed my mouth to his. He stumbled back in surprise, and I followed through, pushing him back into a wall roughly as his hands came up to grip my arms. I angled my head so that my lips fit his perfectly.

This was my one chance to show him how I felt; to show him why I couldn’t go to his wedding; to show him why I was so reluctant to tell him. I reached up to cup the side of his face as I kissed him.

And he let me kiss him. His lips melded to mine as he let me pour out everything. He must have realised that he had two choices: Let me kiss him, or push me away and risk hurting me even more. So when my lips caressed his, he cocked his head to allow me to do it.

I pulled back for a second to stare into his eyes. They were clear with sudden realisation, and his face was flushed. I knew that this would be the only chance I ever got to kiss him, and so I crushed my mouth back to his.

This time the kiss was stronger, and his tongue met mine in a fierce battle. He tasted so perfect, and all I wanted to do was hold him close. The kiss was deep, and a way for me to show him all my lust, all my love, and all my feelings for him.

Suddenly, I pulled back, and stared back into his eyes. His lips were still slightly parted, and he was trying to catch his breath. He opened his mouth further, and tried to speak. But he couldn’t. He swallowed, and tried again, “Harry…”

I stepped back away from him, and shook my head, “And that’s why I can’t go to your wedding.”