Page 4 of Flirtation or Faceoff

We’re all floating around in tubes. West and Mel are getting hitched at their lakefront property in Minnesota, but us guys get the cabin to ourselves tonight. We all have beer cans in hand, except Mitch, the Eagle’s top defenseman. He doesn’t drink and he’s clutching a bottle of water. Country music is playing from the surround sound speakers West installed soon after purchasing this place last year.

This is for sure the most wholesome bachelor party I’ve ever taken part in. I won’t lie, it’s refreshing. West has no desire to have one last night of partying before tying himself to someone forever. He doesn’t see it that way. He can’t wait to marry Mel, she’s his everything. He has no interest in dancing with other women, or to have women shaking around in front of him.

It’s the real deal, what they have. Something I didn’t think was possible until I saw Ma fall in love and re-marry last year, and then watching West and Mel’s relationship unfold.

Mitch’s tube floats over and bumps into mine. I reach my arm out and tap my beer against his water bottle. “Still can’t believe you’re one of West’s groomsmen,” I say, remembering how they hated each other all of last year.

“You and me both.” He scoffs, then checks his wristwatch. “Is it really necessary for me to stay overnight?” he whispers. “Are we eight years old?”

“Bachelor parties are usually an all-night thing, Mitch.”

Bruce overhears me and uses his arms to paddle his tube closer to us. “Man, it’s been forever since I went to a slumber party! We should do this more often.”

Remy is several yards away from us and makes no move to come closer. Instead, he rolls his eyes.

West flops onto his belly on his tube and uses his legs to kick himself nearer. He holds his beer high, so it doesn’t get any lake water in it. “It’s not a slumber party! We’re men!”

Bruce puffs his chest out and makes his voice even deeper. “Sorry, a manly slumber party.”

We all laugh, even the perpetually-grumpy Mitch cracks a smile.

West pounds his fists against his chest the way Tarzan would. “That’s right! Now what time is the pillow fight again?”

Harrison, whose tube is close to Remy’s, sends West an unamused glance. “There’s no pillow fight, West.”

Bruce chuckles. “You can have a pillow fight tomorrow night, West.” He winks in an overexaggerated way, with his mouth open.

“Oh yeah!” I grin. “Maybe even in your underwear, if you’re lucky.”

Bruce waggles his eyebrows. “Or without underwear.”

Harrison chokes on the sip of beer he just swallowed. He pounds his fist against his sternum a few times. “Stop! That’s my sister!”

Bruce cringes. “Oh yeah, I forgot. Sorry, man.”

Mitch groans, paddling away from us toward Harrison and Remy. Obviously, he’s too manly and serious to be with us right now.

“You old men enjoy your quiet time; the party is over here though,” I yell so they can hear me, and I’m met with unamused stares.

“We’re playing NHL on the Xbox all night, right?” West asks, sounding a little too excited at the prospect of a video game.

“Oh.” I stick my bottom lip out in a childish pout. “I’m not sure. Harrison is your best man; you’ll have to ask him.”

West snorts a laugh, reaching over and mussing my damp lake hair. “You’re such a big baby. Keep it up and I’ll switch your job from groomsman to flower boy.”

I lift my chin in challenge. “I’d be an excellent flower boy and you know it.”

Bruce and West laugh, and my fake pout melts into laughter as well. “So, what are the bridesmaids wearing tomorrow?” I ask, trying to picture how Noel might look. I’ve been around her several times since meeting her last year, since she’s never too far from Mel. But despite all my best flirting, she still acts disgusted by me.

West glances up at the sky, now fading into twilight. “Honestly, I'm not sure. I know the colors are seafoam green and coral.”

“What the hell is seafoam green?” Bruce’s face twists in disgust. “I’m imagining a puke green.”

West snorts a laugh. “No clue. I only cared about Mel being at the end of that aisle walking toward me. The rest was all her. And she lives for this event planning, organization stuff. I’m sitting back and letting her do her thing.”

“Smart man,” Harrison’s voice says over my shoulder. He’s floated our way and stops when his tube hits mine. I take him in quickly, dark hair, brown eyes, long limbs. Basically, the opposite of his sister in every way. Except for the pointed chin and round puppy dog eyes.

“You’re a physical therapist, right?” I blurt, causing his head to whip in my direction.