Something Like Elena

My sister looks amazing. She's smiling a lot, and I think it actually hurts but if there's one day she's allowed to overdo it, it's today. Her wedding day.

I'm standing right next to her, maid of honor, watching her say "I do" to the man I love. The man I've loved since I was twelve and he was fourteen.

I hope my smile looks genuine. I really do. Because I am happy for them. A lot. Like, bouncing-off-the-walls happy. And also... crushed. Totally wrecked, and maybe some of that is leaking through my eyes. God, I hope not. I promised myself I'd hold it together today. Didn't I already cry everything out?

I messed up. Kept my feelings buried too long. Too shy. Too tangled in my own low self-esteem. I never thought Noah Sparks would like me back. He's been my best friend for years, and not once-not once-did I catch anything more than casual admiration in his hazel eyes. No extra long stares. No hugs that lingered a second too long. Nothing to give me hope or let me imagine he might feel the same.

He's the warmest man I know, but somehow that warmth never reached me the way it did with my sister. My twin sister.

We're basically carbon copies, except for one thing. I cut my hair short. I had to. I needed to feel like someone else, someone separate. Like maybe I could finally get out from under her shadow.

Didn't help. I'm still known as Elena's sister. Not by my name. Never Esmeray. Not even Ray. Just Elena's little sister.

We look the same, yeah. But our personalities couldn't be more different. Elena talks, laughs, flirts, connects. Me? I pull back. I think too much, speak too little. I don't laugh like she does. Not so bright. Not so easy.

"What are you glaring about, Esmeray? It's your sister's wedding, for God's sake."

My mother's voice cuts in from behind me as I walk down the hallway, a few steps behind the crowd trailing the bride and groom out of the church for photos. I didn't mean to fall behind. My feet just kept dodging people, avoiding small talk, and somehow I ended up back here-alone in the middle of everyone.

"I'm not glaring," I say, but it doesn't reach her.

"Smile. Shoulders up. That makeup and that dress weren't cheap. Maybe you'll meet someone today too-wouldn't that be nice? Your turn next year, hmm?"

She nudges me with her shoulder, like we're sharing some joke. She doesn't even glance at my face. 

No one knows what this feels like. No one knows what I'm holding back. How humiliated I felt last night.

Don't think about it. I suck in a breath, stiffen my spine, and march after her.

The pictures are a blur. I don't even remember posing. Just... standing there. Smiling like my life depends on it.

Elena loves pictures. She had me, Valentine, and Christine, her maids of honor, posing for what felt like hours until my heels feel like they've fused with my skin. Like someone sewed them in. Permanent.

I let out a long sigh as I peel the heels off. Thank God Valentine and Christine didn't come back with me. The hotel room is quiet, blissfully, blessedly empty. I can finally breathe.

I sink onto the bed, freshly made by housekeeping after we rushed out this morning. White sheets. Perfect corners. 

So... it's really over.

The thing that's haunted me for months. The thing that made my chest tighten every time I saw a bridal ad, every time Elena dragged me to look at dresses, to taste cakes, to pick seating charts. That gnawing panic-gone.

I exhale again, slower this time. My lips start to tremble. Don't cry. I chant it in my head. Don't you dare cry.

Just one more hour. The reception. Then it's done. Forever. One more hour and I can bury this. Lock it up. Pretend none of it ever happened.

A knock snaps through the silence.

I freeze. Swallow the tight knot in my throat. My legs move before I'm ready, mechanical. I glance in the mirror. No tear streaks. No red eyes. Just that stiff smile I've been wearing all day.

"Ray?"

That voice. I stop cold. My heart slams against my ribs. No. That can't be. That can't be Noah. I try to hold it together as I step toward the door. I fail completely. My hands are cold, shaky, fumbling with the handle. I yank it open.

His name falls out before I can stop it. "Noah..."The rest of my words die when I see it's not just Noah standing there.

Peter's with him. Blonde, ever-grinning, ever-joking Peter, and he's looking at me like I'm Christmas come early.

"W-what's going on?" I stammer, eyes bouncing between them. Peter, too bright, too eager. Noah staring at the floor like the carpet's got something important to say.

"Don't be anxious, baby girl," Peter says, his voice all charm and smooth glass. He nudges Noah, trying to get a reaction.

Noah lifts his face. He shaved for the wedding. The clean look is strange on him. Makes him look younger. His hazel eyes don't hold mine for long. His smile is twisted-awkward, unsure.

"Hey, Ray," he says. "You know my man Peter, right? He's been beating me up, wanted me to introduce you two."

I stare. There's a quiet kind of horror curling inside me, pressing tight beneath my ribs, but my face doesn't move. I keep the same dull, detached expression. I can't meet Noah's gaze. 

I turn to Peter. "Nice to meet you. I'm Esmeray."

It doesn't matter that we've known each other for years. That's not what this is about.

I could pretend it isn't happening. Pretend Noah isn't standing there trying to set me up with his best man like last night meant nothing.

But I'd be wrong.

Peter cackles. There's no other word for it. His laugh is loud, unfiltered, the kind that fills a room whether invited or not. I've heard it a thousand times, but tonight, it makes my shoulders tighten.

"Great to meet you, babes," he grins. "I know this is a little awkward for you."

"Yeah?" I say, staring at him instead of Noah, because looking at Noah is dangerous. I might glare, or worse, I might crumble.

Peter doesn't miss a beat. "So, what do you say? Maid of honor, best man-wanna save a dance for me?"

"Sure." The word tumbles out fast, too fast, but if it gets them out of my doorway, out of my sight, then it's worth it. "I'll dance with you, Peter."

Peter is never subtle, his fist pumps the air in excitement. "Thanks. I promise my two left feet won't step on your adorable legs."

My smile is polite. "I'll try not to step on yours."

"Gold," he whispers, barely containing his excitement. "I'll see you on the dance floor then."

"Yeah." This time, my voice is thinner, my eyes finding their usual refuge, the floor.

"Come on," Peter says, dragging Noah with him. When I finally look up, his arm is slung over Noah's shoulders, whispering something.

I exhale, quiet and tired. Noah is so cold. Distant. What did I ever see in him? What made me hold on for so long? I turn to retreat, but then-

"Hey!" Noah's voice cuts through the hall, urgent. And he's rushing back.

My heart, traitorous thing, kicks into overdrive, stupidly hoping. Hoping when it shouldn't. Hoping when it knows better. He belongs to Elena now. Like everything in my life. 

"I'm sorry," he says, a little breathless, even though the hallway's not that long. "That was... so awkward. I don't want there to be any bad feelings between us and after last night..." He gestures vaguely-first at the door, then toward where Peter disappeared. "He's just been bothering me about you and... he really, really likes you. I was actually planning to introduce you two before everything. Before last night, so... I know this sucks, but I just hope you're not upset."

I shake my head. My hair doesn't move, it's pinned back in some elegant twist the stylist said looked great while Valentine and Christine gushed like I was headed to prom. I can't look at him. If I meet his eyes, I'll cry. Again. And I can't do that. Not now. Not in front of him.

"Are we..." he exhales hard, like the weight of everything is pressing on his chest. "Are we good?"

Good how? Good like best friends? Like almost-siblings now that he's married to my sister? Or good like the girl who spilled her heart on the floor last night and the guy who walked over it on his way to say 'I do'?

I gather every ounce of strength left in my hollow body and lift my head. I manage a smile. It's weak, fake, stitched together with whatever dignity I have left.

"It's a little awkward," I say, voice too calm. "But Peter's fun. I don't mind. It'll be fun."

Every word slices through me and twists. I don't let him see. I press my lips together, bracing against the sting behind my eyes. "Don't worry about it, Noah."

He looks at me and nods. "Yeah. Thanks. I think Peter would be good for you, Ray. You two have a lot in common."

Please stop talking and go away. My fists are clenched, breath coming a little too fast. I can't cry in front of him again. Once was already pathetic.

"Sorry..." he says, quieter now. "It's still weird. I promise I'll never bring this up again. It's done. Promise."

He lifts his hand in a half-hearted scout's honor and I can see it's eating at him. If I don't smile, if I don't act like I'm fine he'll carry that guilt like a shadow. And if he slips, if he tells Elena...

That thought alone gives me the strength to fake it. I force a smile. "You're the one making it awkward, Noah. Just go back to your wife and let me be. I want to change."

"Right." He nods, like that settles it. "I'm gonna leave you to that. Hope you, uh... have a good time tonight, Ray."

He gives me one last glance and zips off after Peter.

The second he's gone, my shoulders collapse like the strings holding me up just got cut. I walk into the room, shut the door, and press my back against it. That strength I worked so hard to wear like armor? Gone. Gone in seconds.

I slide down to the floor, the sobs ripping through me without mercy, clawing up my throat, spilling hot and broken down my cheeks. I cover my mouth even though there's no one to hear me.