Plus One
Taking your best friend as your plus one to a wedding is an easy decision–until it isn't.
THEMES → Best friends to lovers, angst, wedding
TRIGGER WARNINGS → 18+ for language, drinking.
☙ It was supposed to be easy. A simple solution to an annoying problem: Micah needed a plus one to his best friend’s wedding, and his roommate, Jasmine, was definitely, 100% available. The only thing was that she was a total skeptic who didn’t believe in true love, and liked dancing even less than she liked forced small talk.
“C’mon, Jaz. What d’you have to lose?”
Leaning against the doorframe of Jasmine’s bathroom, Micah absentmindedly picked at a loose thread along the bottom hem of his shirt. His black curls tumbled over his forehead, still mussed from sleep, the tank top stretching across his chest showing off his bare shoulders and all the new moles and freckles that summer had gifted him.
Jasmine pushed a sigh through her nose, trying her best to ignore him as she swiped mascara across her lashes.
“I have my dignity,” she said flatly to his reflection in the mirror, her green eyes turned seaglass in the early morning sun.
“Jaz,” he whined, “Listen, I’ll set you up. You know? So you can do your thing. Be your wingman–er–whatever.”
“My wingman?” Jaz asked, brow quirked, her skepticism pushing Micah off the doorframe.
“Fine. Anti-wingman?” His eyes flickered playfully, teasing, and Jaz turned away from the mirror to look at him in real life.
“You know I hate weddings,” she protested, lips firmed in a line.
“But there’s free food, and booze, and–” Micah’s brow furrowed in thought, “–and I’ll do your laundry and the dishes for a week.”
“You seriously don’t have anyone else to ask?”
The silence that followed told her he didn’t.
She sighed. “Two weeks.”
“Two?”
“Alright, you have fun,” she said dismissively, turning around to lean over the bathroom sink again.
“Okay, okay–two weeks.”
Her eyes flicked up to meet his in the mirror again, his expression edging on desperate.
“Two weeks,” Jaz echoed. “Also, you’re the worst.”
“And you’re a menace.”
“Get out of my bathroom, Micah,” she quipped, pinning back a lock of red hair. “I’m gonna be late for work.”
“You’re never late.”
Nudging his knee into the crook of Jasmine’s, he made her buckle, and she grabbed at the lip of the counter.
“Shit–Micah!” She swatted at him, and he dodged it with a laugh.
“See you at five!”
Summer weddings were all the same: big, bright peonies, light, gauzy fabrics, and wood circles under everything. The ceremony was always under a flower arch, the groomsman always wore brown chelseas and grey suits, and the bride always cried halfway through her ‘handwritten’ vows.
“So sweet,” Micah whispered, elbow gently bumping into Jasmine’s, and she shook her head.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that speech on Pinterest.”
“Hey.”
“What? I could’ve done better than that, and I don’t even have anyone to write them about.”
Fixing her with a look, Micah clicked his tongue at Jasmine just as the officiant pronounced the newlyweds husband and wife.
“Let’s go, Dan and Rach!” he cheered, pushing a whistle between his fingers while Jasmine clapped begrudgingly next to him.
The last time she’d been to a wedding was four years ago when her brother married his now ex-wife, and everyone saw how that turned out. Still, she had the bridesmaids’ dress, but when she tried to squeeze into it, it didn’t fit anymore. Grumbling, she’d dug around in her closet for something, anything, that wouldn’t have her sweating before the ceremony had even started, until something bright caught her eye.
Shoved at the very back of her closet was a light, floor-length, skinny-strapped, peachy colored sundress that dipped down to the small of her back. It still had the tags on it, but when she tugged it over her head, the reflection looking back at her in the mirror was pleasantly unfamiliar. Someone softer, not so sharp around the edges, and with an easy confidence. Even though she didn’t recognize her, she wondered for a minute if maybe this version of Jasmine could exist.
When she walked out into the living room to show Micah, she couldn’t help noticing his rich, brown cheeks had gone warm and rosy.
“Wow–er–I mean–you look really nice.”
Stumbling over his words, his lack of teasing caught her off guard, and they left the house with a foreign kind of tension between them. Air pulled taut like it was before a thunderstorm, thick with words unsaid until they pulled up to the venue and picked up their usual charade of banter.
Just friends.
“While we let the bride and groom have a minute to themselves, please make your way over to the reception!” he officiant announced through squealing feedback on the mic, pulling Jasmine out of her thoughts. “You’ll see name cards have been placed at each table – find your name and a drink, and we’ll see you soon!”
Piano notes picked up, joined by a brassy trumpet, and smooth bass guitar thrums that wove through the late-afternoon heat. A haze had settled over the wide expanse of lawn dotted with tables and chairs, dappled in the rays of sun that crept between a stretching canopy of ash and oak branches. A very classy affair in a ‘rustic’ setting that Jasmine was sure had been orchestrated by an overpaid coordinator determined to avoid a bridezilla moment.
“This is nice,” Micah hummed at her side as they queued for a drink at the bar.
“Nicer after I get a drink,” Jasmine joked back at him, and it earned her a long side-eye.
“C’mon. It’s not that bad.”
Dropping her gaze to her feet, Jasmine pushed a sigh from her lungs, picking at the new manicure on her fingers.
“Let’s have fun,” Micah murmured, bumping the toe of his boot into her espadrille. “When do we ever get to let loose for a minute? You’re always working, and I’m always being obnoxious.”
Jasmine snorted a laugh and looked up at him, “I don’t know if you’re always obnoxious.”
He grinned, “Well, then I’ll have to double my efforts. Let me get you a drink.” Sticking his arm out to her, she looped hers into the crook of Micah’s elbow.
When he tugged her into his side for a brief second, she found herself wrapped up in the tart scent of neroli, fresh laundry, his woodsy aftershave, and the coconut sunscreen she’d made him put on right before they got out of the car. Her gaze drifted down, noticing how he absentmindedly smoothed his fingers over the bump of her knuckles, and her cheeks warmed at the sensation, her body hyperaware of every single touch point between them. The loop of their arms, his fingers on her hand, the crisp fabric of his button-down on her bare skin, the hem of his sleeve as it stretched across his bicep.
“Jaz?”
She sucked in a gasp and blinked up at Micah.
“What?”
“What would you like to drink?” he asked through a chuckle.
“Oh–uh–I’m okay for now.”
Micah’s mouth tugged up at the corner as he gave her that boyish, lopsided grin. “Okay,” he said, turning back to the bartender. “Whiskey, neat? Thanks.”
“I’m gonna go find the bathroom. Meet you back at the table?” she said through an uncharacteristically weak smile.
His brows pinched together, You okay? But nodded at her anyway. “Sure”
As soon as Jasmine turned away from him, she exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “What the hell?” she muttered under her breath, hands gathering up fistfuls of the long fabric of her dress. “He’s your roommate. Your super fucking annoying roommate who leaves trash all over the apartment. God–” she shook her head at herself, “–get it together, you idiot.”
When Jasmine came out of the tiny, but ‘bougie’ bathroom trailer, the reception was fully underway. Guests milled around the lush, green lawn, drinks in hand, laughter growing by the minute as they imbibed in the waning, late-afternoon heat. An ocean breeze had decided to pick up as the sun crept further down the horizon, its rays splaying out and washing everything in gold.
She wove her way through the crowd, looking for Micah in the buzz of conversation and occasional exclamation of recognition – Haven’t seen you in forever! – But it was harder to see now as the strings of bistro lights looped around the property, casting shadows to dance across the lawn.
A hand reached out to touch the soft fabric of Jasmine’s outfit. “I love your dress!”
“Oh–yeah–thanks! Thank you,” she stuttered.
“Where’d you get it?”
“Uh–I can’t remember. Maybe somewhere down off Melrose?”
“Well, it’s perfect. Bet your boyfriend loves it too,” the woman grinned, nodding just to her left where Jasmine finally spotted Micah talking to a man with navy suspenders and horn-rimmed glasses.
An awkward laugh caught in Jasmine’s throat, “He’s actually not my–”
“Jenny?? Sorry, hon, one sec–Jenny, oh my god! You look amazing!”
The woman pushed past Jasmine, completely abandoning their conversation to gather up what was apparently a long-lost friend in a giant hug.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Jasmine mumbled to herself, walking over to Micah until she was within earshot of their conversation.
“Did I see you brought your roommate, Mic?”
“Huh? Oh–Jasmine?”
She stopped at the mention of her name, watching as Micah talked with this friend of his. Now that she could see them better, she recognized him. She couldn’t remember his name, but knew he tried to get lunch or coffee with Micah every couple of weeks.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her with her hair down. Doesn’t she work in design?” the friend asked, and Jaz’s cheeks flushed pink. Her hair was thick and a lot of work, of course, she never wore it down.
“She’s a producer for Valley Film, they just finished up a short for some director out of San Diego.”
“Oh shit, that’s cool.”
Unsure of how much longer she could linger that close to them without looking weird, Jasmine shifted on her feet, uncomfortable at her eavesdropping, but what Micah said next froze her in place.
“They’re starting to get some awards buzz, so she’s been super busy; everyone wants to work with her.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. She’s one of the most talented producers on the West Coast. I’m really proud of her.”
I’m really proud of her.
Jasmine’s eyes flicked away from the band to look at Micah, and he was looking back, the smile on his face one she hadn’t seen before. Fond, sweet, and something else.
Something warmer.
“I’m gonna grab a bite. Catch you in a bit?” Micah excused himself and moved around his friend, heading straight for the charcuterie board table – and her.
The tension that had stretched between them before reappeared; had it ever left? And as Micah walked across the lawn, Jasmine became acutely aware of him. Micah.
Her roommate.
Her best friend.
All of his little idiosyncrasies.
The way his fingers twisted at the silver band on his thumb when he was bored, the little crinkles that appeared at the corners of his eyes when he was really smiling, the low rumble in his chest when he knew he shouldn’t be laughing, but did anyway.
His voice and the way it sounded wrapped around her name.
“Hey, Jaz.”
Her stomach flipped over, caught, “Hi.”
His smile softened, tinged at the edges with what was maybe the same anticipation that had reached up and grabbed hold of her. Lifting a hand to her face, Micah tucked a flyaway behind Jasmine’s ear, dashing what little confidence she had left with a single touch.
“Who’s that?” she asked, anything to scramble back to ‘normal’ as he shot a glance over his shoulder.
“Solomon? Oh, we roomed together in college.”
“Right.” Solomon. “Just catching up?”
“Yeah. Talking about you, actually.”
Jasmine’s pulse fluttered against her neck; so much for back to normal.
“Me?” she huffed an awkward laugh, grabbing a couple of grapes from the appetizer table and shoving them into her mouth. “You tell him you’re on the hook to do my laundry for two weeks? Sucker.”
Micah chuckled, shaking his head. “That’d blow my cover,” he shot her a lopsided grin. “No, Sol, I definitely didn’t bribe my plus one.”
Soft drums picked up on the other side of the room as the band started playing the opening notes to a new song, and Micah glanced down at Jasmine, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“Hey, would you want to dance with–”
“–is this a date?”
Their questions blurred together, asked simultaneously, cutting both of them short, and Micah’s face flushed up to his ears.
“Micah…” Jasmine said, quieter than usual, hesitant.
She watched as Micah swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, the look on his face one she’d never seen before. A muddled mixture of guilt, curiosity, and something else. Something that swam through her bloodstream, slow and warm.
“I mean, you’re my date for the wedding?” he joked weakly, but the way Jasmine was looking at him had his half-facade cracking and falling away. Loosing a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, tongue jammed into his cheek like he did when he was thinking through things. “We’ve been roommates for…”
“Two years,” she said, filling in the gap he’d left behind.
Glancing up, Micah’s eyes met hers, dark green, emerald in the low light.
“And friends since…?”
“Fourth grade,” Jasmine finished, lips tugging up at the corners in a small smile.
“You’re my best friend, Jaz,” he confessed, voice low like a secret, his words planting themselves between her ribs like wildflowers; bright little things that brushed at her insides, hummingbird wings against her chest, pushing her to be brave.
“Mine too,” she realized, then gently teased, “Except when you leave your half-empty ramen cups on the coffee table.”
Micah huffed a guilty laugh, pulling his lower lip between his teeth, then sobered, “I was hoping maybe if you came with me it’d–I dunno–show you that we’re good together. You know. Like…more than just friends.”
More than just friends.
More than just her obnoxious roommate.
Her friend.
Her best friend.
The one who picked her up from work when her car broke down. The one who remembered how much she hated celebrating her birthday and stayed home to binge-watch old horror movies with her instead. The one who told his friends how proud he was of her. Told her she was beautiful with her hair up, and humored her jaded attitude, and pushed her to try new things. Things she learned to love, not because they were new, but because he was there.
“Good together,” she echoed softly, lifting her gaze to meet his brown eyes, warm and hazy like whiskey, long lashes fanning out across his cheeks.
“What d’you think?” he asked tentatively.
“I think I’m grumpy and you’re…you’re like sunshine,” she said through a small grin, “How’s that work?”
Micah laughed, a low, warm thing that turned Jasmine’s insides to goo.
“You keep my feet on the ground, and I remind you it’s okay to have a little fun sometimes,” he assessed, solving the last piece of the equation for her.
“I like fun,” she pushed, grin growing, and he gave it right back.
“You do,” he mused, tangling his fingers up with hers. “Is dancing considered fun?”
“Only at weddings.”
“Well, I don’t know if you know,” he wondered, “But we’re at a wedding.”
“We are?” she played along.
“Mmhm, and there’s a dance floor right over there,” he pointed with his free hand.
“What a coincidence.”
He lifted his brows at her, Come with me? And it pulled Jasmine’s hands to his shoulders, gently coaxing him backwards, the heels of his shoes clicking against the wooden platform as he stepped up to the dancefloor.
Taking one of his hands, she pressed it to her waist, warm and wide at the plush of her hip, and started moving them in time with the smooth notes coming from the band.
“Not my fault if I step on your toes, by the way. I’m shit at dancing,” Jasmine confessed, voice small, a little playful, and a lot vulnerable, and it made him smile.
“Worth it.”
The soft sounds coming from the piano wrapped around them as they danced, and Micah pulled her a little closer, her head gently lowering to settle on his chest. His heartbeat thudded in her ear, warm and steady, and she smiled into his shirt, content to stay just like this.
His more-than-friend.
The grumpy to his sunshine.
His plus one.