Wedding Meetcute

Victor looked out over the quietly waiting crowd, stole a glance at the bride, then looked back down at his feet. He didn't much care for weddings, he never had. They were chock full of unwritten rules, littered with faux pas landmines, and weighed down over the centuries with enough customs and unnecessary pomp to rival a coronation.

"So what's your name?" the woman next to him whispered. The officiating priest had started talking, but Victor could hardly pay any attention to the old man's droning. He glanced at the woman speaking to him and his heart jumped. He was always nervous and jumpy at weddings, but this one had him in a full blown fright, flight, or freeze response, wringing his hands and shifting around uncomfortably.

"Victor," he said, wincing. Sweat was beading up along his hairline.

To his surprise, she pried his hands apart and took one in hers. "I'm Melissa," she said. Her voice was quiet and gentle, but he could hear her tone wavering.

"Nervous?" he asked with a half grin, the rest of his face puckering with embarrassment. A drop of sweat shook free and rolled down his temple.

She shrugged and cocked her head to the side a little. "Should I be?"

Victor stole another glance at the bride. She was pretty, with healthy brown hair and a brilliant complexion. He dared not let his eyes wander near hers though. He'd been single a long time, and he told himself that today wasn't the day to fall in love. Over and over again he reminded himself that he wasn't going to let himself fall in love at this wedding. Back when his sister had married her husband, Victor had met a nice bridesmaid and very nearly fallen in love with her. She broke his heart

He looked back at Melissa and squinted at her. "Why did you come?" he asked, looking down at his hand in hers with curiosity.

She laughed quietly. "Don't be silly," she said. "Why does anyone come to these things? Because they have to."

Victor shrugged. "Yeah, I guess nobody really wants to attend a wedding."

"Well," she sighed. "Presumably two of the people in attendance are there by choice."

Victor scoffed. "Presumably."

There was a long silence, the priest's voice flowing on like an unstoppable, babbling brook. Someone on the groom's side coughed. A shameful amount of sweat had pooled between their palms and Victor felt responsible for all of it. He was about to apologize when Melissa spoke up again.

"Do you like to dance at weddings?" she asked.

Victor chuckled to himself. "Not really, though I've never turned down a request from a pretty lady." He glanced down at her hand once again, almost out of habit, noting the lack of a wedding band on her ring finger, reminding himself he wouldn't fall in love today. Then he gestured around the wedding hall with his face. "What about you? Is this the kind of wedding you would choose for yourself?"

She looked around as well, craning her neck to get a good look at the vaulted church ceiling, scanning along the pillars framing beautiful stained glass windows. She ran her eyes across the tops of the heads of all the distant relatives and long-lost friends of the bride and groom filling the hard wooden pews. "There are more people than I would want," she concluded. "But otherwise, I don't think I have thought much about it."

There was another long silence. Victor managed to catch some of what the priest was going on about. Duty, commitment, hard work. He certainly wasn't selling a luxury cruise to the Bahamas.

"Sooo," Melissa began awkwardly. "Do you like food?"

Almost on queue, the whole room fell silent, as though everyone in the chapel was listening to these two strangers whispering rudely over the priest's monotone un-motivational speech. Even the old man was quiet now, waiting to hear what little old Victor had to say to such a silly question.

He chuckled nervously and glanced around. All eyes were on the bride and groom, but all he could do was laugh at the silliness of her question. "I do," he said, his laughter sending a new wave of loosed sweat drops down his brow. "That's a silly question though, don't you like food?"

The priest resumed his blabbering and Melissa giggled awkwardly. "Sure, but you look too sick to eat. Are you sure you're OK?"

Victor huffed through his nose and unleashed a pained smile. "I'll be fine. Do you know what they're serving at the reception dinner?"

"I do," she said. "My mother was involved in the menu selection process and I overheard her talking with the maid of honor about their plans. Should be pretty good."

Suddenly Victor's stomach sank. It seemed the ceremony would be over soon. He looked up at Melissa and, for the first time, met her gaze. Her eyes were wide and bright, searching his face with jittery movements. What was she to him? What had this little encounter meant to her? He looked down at his sweaty hand, still clutched in her dainty fingers. His gut wrenched and his heart leaped into his gullet. What did she want from him now? Would he have to dance with her? Would they sit together at the reception dinner? Would she want to... go home with him?

"Now," the priest was saying. "By the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife."

Silence. Victor's wide eyes locked with Melissa's.

"Go on then," the priest said. "You may kiss the bride."

Melissa blushed. "Well," she said. "I guess it's over then. That was the wedding, right?"

Victor looked out over the rows of guests, sweat soaking his back and armpits. He looked back at Melissa, this stranger he'd only met a few short moments before. She was pretty. She was kind. If he was honest with himself, she was more than he ever could have hoped for. What luck to meet her at a wedding.

He reached up with his dry hand and held her cheek in his palm. He tried to smile. "It's not over yet," he said.

Her eyelashes flittered and she looked down at her feet, smiling.

Victor leaned forward, and kissed his bride.