Wedding Night Stand: A Chic Manila short story by Mina V. Esguerra Page B

into her turf. She was the queen of the female perspective.
     
    ***
     
    He noticed her at the ceremony. She was the only bridesmaid whose grin wasn’t painfully stretching her face. She was beautiful but also restrained, and he spent too much time wondering why that was. Or maybe he was just staring because her dress showed off her lower back, her creamy skin. So there was the matter of suddenly wanting to touch it, wondering how soft she would be.
    Thinking about this in church, while a friend was getting married. Inappropriate.
    This was a problem as far as Damon was concerned. He did not usually get distracted. Not when he was so close . After repeatedly telling him she wasn’t interested, of dating other people and blatantly letting him know about it, out of nowhere Geraldine called him up and said, Are you going to Anton and Julie’s wedding? Are you staying over at the resort? Maybe I should stay with you and we drive back to Manila together.
    What else was he supposed to think?
    Only she ignored him throughout the ceremony, and when he sought her out before finding his seat under the tent at the seaside reception dinner, she avoided him pointedly. It wasn’t his imagination; she had looked him right in the face, smiled, and then pushed past him to start talking to another friend.
    He had an idea the kind of game Geraldine was playing. She was a “project” of his, ongoing and unconsummated for two years now, but that didn’t mean he didn’t allow himself other distractions. When the game was on, he was usually on .
    Regardless, the beautiful bridesmaid was beside him now, and a lock of her hair had strayed from her ponytail and crept inside the neckline of her dress. It was begging to be put back in place. Was he up to the job? Maybe with his fingertip, so he could have more control over it, and the “accidental” brush against her chest would be a lighter touch. Or a knuckle. Crude, but if he did it right, more casual.
    “When did you first meet her?” Andrea said. The way she shifted her shoulder knocked the lock of hair back into place, and he lost his chance.
    “Two years ago, when I first started hanging out with Anton.”
    “Let me guess,” said Andrea, turning toward Table 10. “Love at first sight?”
    Hardly. “I was instantly attracted to her, yes, but that’s not love.”
    “I meant I want to bone her at first sight then, of course.”
    “No chance to bone,” Damon admitted, and feeling fine with it. “But yes, I thought about it. There were several times that I thought she wanted it too, but maybe I’m misreading her.”
    “What signals did you get?”
    He shrugged. “Once in a while, we’d be alone together, and she’d actually become suggestive. No, more than that. She’d be different, more touchy. Sexual even.”
    “But not when you’re with other people?”
    He hadn’t thought of it that way, and a quick flashback of every single interaction confirmed it. “So what’s that about, she’s ashamed of me?”
    Andrea stretched her left arm, the one further from him, ever so slightly, in sync with how he leaned toward her. “Not enough facts. What do you do again? Finance, like Anton?”
    “Investment portfolio management,” Damon said, proudly. “And I’m good at it.”
    “Criminal records?”
    He shook his head.
    “Or not dumb enough to get caught,” she said, teeth revealed by her big grin. “Any shameful habits? Hobbies?”
    “Donuts.”
    Her smile became less of a mask on her face, and he congratulated himself on that answer.
    “Surely there’s something else,” she added.
    “Well yes, if you don’t like guns.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “I like guns.”
    He saw her perk up, and again shift closer. “You shoot?”
    “Competitively.”
    “Are you any good?”
    “The best in certain categories.”
    “Well.” She raised her arms in surrender. “That’s enough for me. And you smell good. Some girls are just not into that, I guess.” 
    “Are