The Stranger

   “So, what’s your biggest fear?”

   I do him the decency of turning my head to watch the bride and groom’s first dance while I roll my eyes directly into my skull. 

“I usually reserve that for the second date,” I mutter, sipping my glass of red wine. I’ll need another very soon. “Keeps things interesting.” 

He chuckles. “I like girls like you.”

Groan. “Are you about to tell me I’m not like the other girls?” 

He leans down in front of my face, keeping his nose no more than four inches from mine. Ew. He must think he’s being sexy.

“If I told you that, would you come home with me tonight?” 

Oh, Jesus Christ. 

“Honestly, uh, Derek is it? At this point, I don’t think anything is getting me in your bed tonight. Sorry.” I guzzle the rest of my second glass. 

He pulls back, shocked at my resistance to his thoroughly charming advances like he’s never been turned down in his life. He stands, murmurs something about me being a bitch under his breath, and walks straight to the bar. 

Oh well. Sorry, Jessica. I guess the fourth setup this quarter was a bust. Too bad it didn’t work out because I did not get her a wedding gift. Dating men who think they have it in the bag before they even have to speak intelligent sentences is not on my to-do list. Unfortunately, that means the well is pretty dry. 

I sigh and lift the next glass of Cab from a wandering server’s tray as they pass by my table. A glance at my watch tells me I only have to stick out another thirty minutes or so before it’s not considered rude to blow this pop stand. I have a date with my own bottle of red and backlogged episodes of Survivor waiting for me at home. 

People-watching is one of my favorite hobbies, and a wedding is a great place to do it, so I sit back and enjoy the awkward dancing to Earth, Wind, and Fire (yes, obviously September). 

Beyond the dancefloor, I notice a man standing behind the DJ booth by the backdoor. Curiously, he’s not wearing a tux like all the other men. He’s not in a server’s outfit, either. No, this out-of-place individual wears jeans, a zip-up hoodie, and—dare I say it—New Balances. However, for the lack of formality, he does make up for it with handsomeness. 

After staring for the last thirty solid seconds, his eyes meet mine as though he can feel me boring into his soul. I quickly look away, embarrassed at my lack of politeness. What did he think was going to happen? Obviously, he’s a wedding crasher. Should I tell Jessica? No, I don’t want to bother the bride with this. Alert security? Do they even have security at a wedding hall in the middle of Connecticut? No, I don’t want to make a scene. I’ll just go up to him, feel out the situation, and kindly ask him to leave. There are a hundred people here, so he can’t try anything scary. No one else seems to have noticed him besides me; they’re all too busy focusing on the festivities.  

That’s right, I’ll take care of this for Jessica. Best wedding present ever. 

I finish my glass of wine and place it on the table. I carefully stand on my 3 inch heels and steady myself. Quickly, I look in the back corner of the room to make sure the intruder is still there. Yes, he is, and he’s staring directly at me. If I hadn’t just downed two full glasses of wine in less than twenty minutes, I’d probably feel awkward right now, but I feel strangely powerful instead. I puff my chest, throw my hair back and strut across the ballroom directly in the direction of the stranger (as I like to call him) so I can kick his butt out of this wedding. 

The crowd will gather around me, cheering... they’ll raise me up in a chair above everyone’s heads, praising me for saving the day. Jessica will cry and gush over—

“Hi,” the man says. 

I jolt back to reality and realize I successfully walked across the room and now stand directly in front of strange man. New name.

“Uh—.” Oh, shit. I was so caught up in my hero fantasy that I didn’t write my grand speech to kick out said strange man. And now I’m here. In front of him. Silent. Panicking. He could stab me for all I know. Why did I think this was a good idea, again? Oh yeah, wine. 

“Hi,” he says again, smiling. Why is he smiling at me? I furrow my brows at him, but he keeps that grin slapped across his face. His really beautiful and surprisingly chiseled, handsome face... okay, we are losing the plot here. Focus.

“Um, I—who are you?” Smooth, Audrey.

The crinkles around his eyes soften, and he looks me up and down, taking me in. He tilts his head and smirks, amused by my attempt at interrogation. There’s an air of familiarity in his expression, but I know I’ve never seen this man before. I’d remember.

“Stop distracting me. Who are you? And are you a guest of the wedding?” 

He laughs. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

I jerk my head back. “This isn’t funny. I don’t recognize you, and you’re wearing street clothes. This is a classy wedding—“

“Clearly.” 

“—and you look like you just stumbled in from the street. Either you’re crashing, or you’re just rude, so—“

“So?”

“So! I have to ask you to leave my best friend’s wedding right now, or I will be forced to call the police,” I finish, then lean in closer so he can hear my whisper. “And we wouldn’t want to cause a scene, now would we?” 

He takes a deep breath and stares directly into my eyes. This causes my stomach to flutter, like I’m on the downward slope of a rollercoaster. My arms flare up with goosebumps even though it’s hot as hell in this ballroom. My cheeks flush. My body is having a physical response to this man that feels warm and bubbly instead of get the fuck out of here, run. Why don’t I want to run away? 

He gently raises the palm of his hand to my cheek, and I surprise myself by not flinching at the intimate gesture. Almost like this has happened to me before. With him.

“You were always so cute when you wanted to be the tough guy,” he says. “And we both know she’s not your best friend.”

What? I can’t even speak it out loud, but he reads the confusion from my pinched eyebrows. 

“Can we talk somewhere private? Away from this noise? I’ve been waiting for you to come to me all night.”

“You have?” 

“Yes. I have something important to talk to you about, Audrey.” 

My heart stops. How does he know my name? Do I have a stalker? My brain is screaming red flags, but the comfort my body feels as he takes my hand and intertwines our fingers is something I can’t ignore. For some reason, this feels right. I can’t stop myself from nodding. 

“We’ll stay right outside so you feel safe. There’s a bench by the entrance. This won’t take long, I don’t have much time.” 

I nod, still speechless. Don’t have time? For what? Did I accidentally take an edible again?

He leads me out to the front of the building, passing a couple of straggling guests who eye me strangely while I hold hands with this informally clad man. I shrug at them as we go. This is exactly what I’m supposed to do at this moment; I feel it. 

When we’re outside, it’s quiet except for the bass that vibrates the walls behind us. We’re alone, I think, but I’m not scared. It’s all I can do not to fold myself into this man’s chest that feels like home. But why? I’ve never felt this way about anyone, much less a complete stranger. But how did he know my name?

“I’m sorry, do we know each other?” I finally ask while he drinks me in with his green eyes. 

“Very well, actually,” he answers.

“I feel like I’d remember if we met before, so let me tell you now that if I were to disappear, I have a very tall, angry brother—“

“Whose name is Brendan, and happens to be my best friend, so you don’t have to worry.” 

I suck in a breath. “How?” I whisper. My twin brother doesn’t have any friends I don’t know about. “Okay, this is freaking me out. I think I should go back inside—” 

“I know, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have started with that,” he interrupts, keeping our hands clutched. “But I’m the last person on earth you have to worry about hurting you.”

My breathing picks up. “What did you need to talk to me about?” My eyes dart left to right, and I fully realize how stupid I am for letting myself be completely alone with this absolute—downright handsome—weirdo.

“Audrey, tonight is a very important night. You have a choice to make.” He pauses, taking a breath like he needs to perfect the next words that come out of his mouth. “We are destined to meet for the first time at this wedding, but I need you to know the consequences of making that choice so you can turn the other way if you want to.”

Um, what?

“I know that sounds weird—“

“Very weird, since we already met just now,” I say.

He nods. “I know it appears that way, but this is one version of me, but there’s a different one back in that ballroom that’s been watching you all night, trying to talk himself into asking you to dance. He does, eventually, for the last song. You tell him yes, because you feel bad for him and you’re lonely. During the dance, you will feel the energy that you’ve been feeling with me this whole time—the chemistry between us—and you won’t want the time with him to end after the wedding is over. Neither will he. You will bring him back to your apartment, and you will spend the next ten days together. Neither of you will leave, not for your jobs, not for food, nothing. Finally, you will end the ten-day saga with a trip to the courthouse where you will get married.” 

“I would never do something like that, that’s fucking crazy.” 

“We’re crazy, Audrey.” He looks up at the stars for a second, and I notice wetness collecting in the corners of his eyes. A pang hits my chest, like seeing him hurt is the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. 

He clears his throat. “We will get married, and then we will spend the next ten years of our lives together. Inseparable. A love like the world has never seen, something so beautiful you hadn’t read it in any of your romance books you’re so obsessed with. You always told me that.” He laughs. My hands grip his tighter. “We’ll travel the world together. Move to three different cities. Watch your brother get married and have your first nephew.

“One day, I will come home and tell you I had a really bad headache and I passed out at work. You’ll worry yourself sick about it, so I will go to the doctor to have it checked out, more to ease your mind than mine. The doctor will tell me that I have an incurable brain tumor the size of a golfball in my head, and there’s nothing either of us can do about it despite your frantic research into clinical trials and drugs.”

A tear falls down my cheek as his voice cracks. I don’t want to hear the rest. But I have to.

“We will decide on hospice after months and months of fighting. You will watch me turn into someone you don’t even recognize, but you will still love me anyway. You don’t leave my side no matter how much it hurts. I won’t be able to speak or find you in a room anymore. I could always find you in a room.” He chokes on a sob. “I’m sorry.” 

I bring my forehead to his and close my eyes. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because tonight is the first night that we meet, and our ending will bring you the greatest pain you’ll ever know. So I’m here, now, to stop you from going down that path before it’s too late because I love you that much.” 

I gasp for air. “Are you real?” I rub my thumb along his cheek as I cradle his jaw in my palm. “How do I know this is real?”

“It’s real. You brought me here. But now I have to go, and you have to make your choice.” He stands up and takes two steps back, breaking the link of our entwined fingers. 

“Wait, no. You can’t leave. I have questions!” I yell. 

He takes four more steps back and doesn’t stop. He nods his head, tears streaming down his face, slowly fading into the darkness that surrounds us. And then he’s gone.

All that is left are the chirps of the summer crickets and the bass of I’ve Got a Feeling. 

Dizzy, I take two deep breaths before I stand. I carefully walk back inside, wiping my eyes and smearing mascara from the lashes. 

As I re-enter the ballroom, I catch a look from Jessica, who’s noticeably relieved to see that I am still here and not an Irish-exiter from her wedding. A look of concern crosses her face as she fully takes in my expression. I can only imagine what I must look like right now. I’d be shocked if anyone asked me to dance, much less the love of my life. 

I sit back in my seat, welcomed by a brand new, full glass of red wine in front of me. I stare down at my lap, trying to process what just happened and if it was even real. It had to be. I’m hungover from the array of emotions I just experienced. Either that or someone slipped me a really effective mushroom in my chicken marsala. 

I didn’t even get his name. 

Leather shoes appear in my peripheral vision. A throat clears above me. 

“May I have this dance?” 

I lift my head slowly, taking in the sight of the stranger, only now he looks ten years younger and dapper in his formal tuxedo. Clearly a guest of the wedding and not a stranger at all. 

Relief rushes through me at the sight of him—I didn’t lose him after all—and I smile wide, baring my toothiest of grins. He returns it with a giggle; his nervousness evaporates before my eyes. 

He extends his palm. “Now, how about that dance?” 

What he said races through my mind as I place my hand in his and squeeze without hesitation. He pulls me out of my seat, seamlessly wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me close to his chest. We waltz to the center of the dancefloor without taking our eyes off each other. 

“What’s your name?” I finally ask when I catch my breath. 

“Michael.” He lightly blows a piece of my hair from my eye. “What’s yours?”

“Michael, I want you to know that I will always choose you.”