Problematic Summer Romance (Not in Love #2)

I'm ashamed to admit it, but for a brief period, I seriously considered not showing up to my brother's wedding.

"Does Eli know?" my friend Jade asks.

"That I'd rather kiss a bathroom floor than be present while he exchanges vows with the love of his life?"

"No. That you overheard him."

I shake my head, eyes glued to my skates. I like to pretend the ice is the secret itself, the thing I would have been better off not knowing, and that I'm stabbing it over and over with my blades. A little violence never fails to brighten my mood.

"Maya, just don't go. It should be easy enough to skip. Isn't that the whole concept behind a destination wedding? You discharge your familial duty by inviting everyone you've ever met—including creepy, doll-collecting aunts and the third cousin who gives sweaty hugs—while fully expecting ninety percent of your acquaintances to send their regrets and refuse to show up. Honestly, if people had thousands of dollars to blow on a vacation, they wouldn't use it to eat shitty fondant cake at a location picked by someone else."

"In theory, yeah." It would be so much more satisfying if the ice bled, just a little. "That's not why Eli's having a destination wedding, though. For one, he's flying out everyone who can't afford it." Which is mostly me. My brother is older than I am and has a very lucrative job—two qualities he shares with every other person on the guest list.

Not everyone can be like me, part of the glitzy, rarefied world of graduate students.

"Hang on. Isn't the wedding in fucking Italy? That's a lot of money."

"Yeah, well. He has it."

"Still. Can't he just hoard it?" She pretends to gag. "I hate generous people."

"Un-fucking-bearable." I spin backward, arms out angel-wide. "It's an intimate thing, anyway. Less than a dozen close friends for the week leading up to the wedding. About thirty more flying in for the rehearsal dinner. The other day I had a moment of weakness—not proud of it—and lied to Eli about having to stay longer in Austin for my final interview for that MIT project. Told him I'd only be able to join them later, for the ceremony." I sigh. Let myself fall back in step with Jade. The rink around us is nearly deserted, the ice gleaming white under the ceiling lights.

"And?"

"And, he stared at me like I'd kicked his puppy, informed me the tooth fairy doesn't exist, and looked ready to kick my ass. All at once. The sheer betrayal."

"How dare he value your presence to this extent?"

"I was enraged. Here I am, thinking that my brother and I are both soulless, pragmatic people who don't put stock in ceremonies. It's not like I'm not planning to harass him and his new bride for the next five to eight decades."

"Clearly, being in love has mellowed him past your direst suspicions. But do not fret, my friend." Jade swirls to a stop in front of me, blocking my path. "You've come to the right person. I have plenty of experience bullshitting my way out of things."

"Right. Let's hear it."

"The most effective way to avoid a commitment is an ailment—one that meets three C's." She ticks them off on her fingers. "Cringe. Contagious. And, above all, quick."

I blink. She does not falter.

"Your illness must befall you so suddenly you could not have anticipated it. It must be transmittable to others and prevent you from traveling. Most important, it must be embarrassing. I'm talking purulent itches. Odors. Fluids. It has to be so devoid of grace, no one would believe you're lying, because why would you destroy your own good name—"

"Jade." I take her hands in mine. "Thank you. This is priceless information."

"You're welcome. I've been thinking of running a workshop."

"But I didn't tell you about this because I wanted to brainstorm ways to avoid showing up."

"Oh. Really?"

I take a deep breath. "If my brother wants me at his wedding, I'm going. End of story."

"Ah. I see." A deep sigh. "Remember when you used to hate him?"

"Yup. I miss those times more than ever." I force myself to shrug. "But it's just a week. Honestly, I'm being a crybaby."

"You sure?"

I nod and resume skating. A moment later, she catches up with me. "Well, don't forget that explosive diarrhea is your friend." Her arm twists around mine. "It might come in handy, if you ever find yourself sitting across from Conor Harkness."