“I’m going to ask her out,” I confirm.
“Yeah, you are,” he smiles. “You better.”
“I will.”
He claps me on the back and I take off, determined to find Cass.
I go to the women’s restrooms, knocking on the door and saying, “Cass?”
A woman answers me, “She’s not in here.”
I go to the bridesmaids’ room. She’s not there when I knock either.
I search through the hallways. Maybe she went back to the main room.
I’m about to head back when I see a soft light coming out from what looks like a closet. I knock on the door and a voice I’d recognize in a crowded airport answers.
“Occupied!”
“Cass?” I ask.
“Marcus?”
“Yeah. What are you doing?”
“Hiding.”
“Well, I found you, so you’re it.”
“If this is sardines, you have to hide with me,” she says. “Otherwise, in tag, you have to tag me.”
“I was thinking of hide-and-seek.”
“Right,” she says.
“But let’s play sardines instead,” I suggest, since I’d rather hide with her than from her. “I’m opening the door.”
She doesn’t answer. I tug the door open and she’s in what looks like an old phone booth, tight, possibly four by four, if that. She’s on the only bench in the space and a soft overhead bulb illuminates her like a dream.
“Did you need something?” she asks, looking up into my eyes.
“I just wondered if the maid of honor flew the coop before the couple did their grand exit.”
“No,” she shakes her head. “The maid of honor is just giving her feet a break.” I glance down at her shoes, scattered on the floor.
She’s got one leg crossed over the other and she’s kneading the sole. “My feet are killing me. New shoes are not the move for a wedding.”
“Yeah?” I squat, filling the space until my back bumps the wall. “Here, let me.”
“You want to rub my feet?”
I do. I want to do everything for you.
“I’ve seen how it’s done.”
“Oh, really?” She cocks a brow and crosses her arm, sticking her leg out and resting it on my knee. She has to bend her leg to fit the space.
I place both thumbs under the sole of her foot and press in. She closes her eyes, her head drops back and she moans.