Want Your Bad Romance

I fidgeted with the handbag in my lap. It was too lacy.

Weddings had never been my favorite type of event. I rarely knew the person directly - they were always bigshots who thought "The more people at our wedding, the better." A director and a producer were getting married - I didn't even know their names. I'd heard they met working on their most recent project The Uninvited. I'd been invited to the wedding by Juliet Hough and her brother. I'd met them through Chelsea Hightower, who had taken classes with Amy's sister when they were twelve. That was one of my shorter chains of introductions. Normally, I couldn't keep them straight.

Finally, the spectators began to settle in. I figured the ceremony must be starting soon.

The wedding procession filed out, the groom leading the way. They arranged themselves and the wedding march began. I awkwardly stood with everyone else as the flower girl dusted the carpet with pastel pink rose petals. The bride was gorgeous, though I didn't recognize her. Two other little girls carried the train of her dress.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered her today to join these..." And the ceremony went on.

Not knowing the couple, the ceremony held no interest for me. I wasn't consumed by memories of them and the growth of their relationship. Instead, I found myself picturing my face under the veil. After shaking that image at least four times, I decided to turn away from the happy couple, and the minister's soothing voice became soft background noise as I looked over the guests, reconnaissance for my current writing project.

Lo and behold - I caught sight of a man with a head of thick, dark hair and a trim beard. I nearly scoffed aloud. Was it purely coincidence? Had this been happening forever and we just never noticed each other? He couldn't be following me, and I wasn't following him... Could some divine providence be at play? I literally shook my head to rid myself of that absurd - if romantic - notion. Life is not a novel.

~

We were not seated together at the reception, and I toiled through the cliched speeches and over-fancy, catered food. Though I wasn't a dancer, I was relieved when the music started and the guests left their seats. I stood as well and watched the couples safely from a distance. I jumped when a hand touched my shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said when I turned around. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine," I answered with a smile I wasn't aware had creeped to my lips.

"I'm glad to see you again, don't get me wrong, but I was just wondering how you came to be here," Johnny continued.

Of course, I blushed and giggled nervously - had the idea that I'd been following him occurred to him? - but answered just the same. "I was invited by... um... well the Hough siblings, though I don't know how they know the bride and groom..." To be honest, I probably shouldn't have been there. I didn't know anyone very well, and I didn't enjoy the ceremony, the food, the drink, the entertainment. If I was honest with myself I would say it was because I yearned for the spotlight, but was too shy to seize it. If I had trouble admitting that to myself, it would be quite a while until I could confide that in someone else.

To mask my awkwardness, I asked, "And how were you invited, Johnny?"

"I recently worked with the producer," he answered simply, and I nodded. He took a sip from the drink in his hand as we both watched the couples on the dance floor. "Dance with me," he said suddenly.

"What? Oh, but I don't - I can't - I'm not a dancer, I - I don't dance - " I tried to protest.

"I don't either. Come on." He took my arm and led me to the floor. It was neither a slow song nor a fast one - typical ballroom music. I could picture Gene Kelley dancing with one of his many on-screen love interests in my mind's eye.

I was slightly surprised that Johnny and I danced reasonably decently with each other.

"Is Vanessa still overseas?" I asked to keep the conversation going, and to keep awkward silences at bay.

"No, she just doesn't care much for weddings."

"Ah," I answered with a nod.

The music had the audacity to change to a slow song at that moment. Apparently neither of us wanted to leave the dance floor, because all that changed was the speed of our steps. I listened to Johnny hum under his breath as the smaller, slower steps brought us closer together.

I liked the feel of his hand on my back, the texture of his dress shirt under the hand I held on his shoulder, the way our hands fit together. It should have been uncomfortable - but it wasn't. We stood there swaying until the song died and was replaced with one much more lively. The dance floor became more crowded and we made our way back out to the dinner tables.

The reception passed, much more enjoyable than the ceremony had, as I had much more pleasurable company. Johnny and I wasted the night away - talking, just as we had the night the restaurant opened.

That night, I was practically humming as I walked up to my front door, and still humming music from the reception as I slipped between the bedsheets and turned out the lights.

~

Less than a week later, I was dressed to the nines and walking down a red carpet with Amy Adams once more. Another movie premiere - this one much more prestigious. It included a dinner, and I was hoping I wouldn't do anything to embarrass myself - or worse, ruin the dress I was borrowing from Amy. Aside from those thoughts, Johnny was on my mind as well, and I found myself searching for him subconsciously.

Finally inside, we sat down at our designated table. Who should sit across from us but Johnny Depp and his girlfriend Vanessa Paradis.

"Now this is beginning to get just plain odd," Johnny commented when he noticed his dining companions.

"I couldn't agree more," I responded.

Amy, Vanessa, Johnny, and I all made polite conversation, focusing mostly on our careers. Vanessa spoke of her new album, and Amy brought up her most recent job. I dismissed the spotlight by giving a brief - very brief - synopsis of my current novel, stating I wasn't really certain where it was going, and telling the others I didn't like to talk about my works in progress. Johnny and Amy struck up a deeper conversation, as they shared their love of acting, and the two began to speak of joining a project together. Vanessa and I listened on politely.

I found sitting across a dining table from Johnny was a strangely tempting - and slightly erotic - experience. I watched his strong hand, decorated with tiny, delicate tattoos, grip his wine glass gently and expertly as I remembered how the same hand had felt resting in the small of my back. The few choice rings he wore that night caught the light of the chandelier when he reached for Vanessa's hand. I looked on intently whenever his lips parted to eat or drink. Everything about him was drawing me in.

I couldn't help remember the dance we'd had at the wedding reception, how close to him I'd felt, and how safe. How calm and relaxed. I couldn't help thinking that we fit into each others arms, really fit. We'd managed to entertain each other with conversation for an entire night on two different occasions. I couldn't help thinking that it was right for us to spend time with each other.

With this nearly overwhelming thought, I excused myself from the table and left in search of the surely luxurious ladies' room. I could feel his eyes on my back, and it took all I had not to turn around. When I reached the facilities - which were, in fact, quite luxurious - I came to the conclusion I needed air.

I made my way outside and found a garden wall to lean against. I startled out of my thoughts when I heard the door open. Of course, Johnny smiled when our eyes met.

"Fancy finding you out here," he said. I gave a small, half-hearted laugh and looked at the ground as he placed a cigarette between his lips. He leaned against the other garden wall, directly opposite me.

"Correct me if I'm mistaken, but - " he took the unlit cigarette from lips - "this doesn't look like the ladies' room to me."

I looked up at him and chuckled. "I needed air," I told him, the smile still on my face.

After a few seconds, he sobered, and took a step toward me. "And why would that be, Jennifer?" he asked me quietly.

And for a split second, I almost told him. Then I caught myself. What a slip of the tongue that would be. "It's nothing," I said, turning my head away from him a bit. He gently took my face by the chin and turned my gaze back to him.

"Really?" he asked sincerely.

I shook my head. As I looked into his eyes, I knew it. There was something there. "No. It's something," I murmured.

And then we were kissing.

I could smell him, hear him, taste him. I could feel his touch at my back - and it felt right, just like when we danced - and I could feel the brush of his hair against one hand and the smooth fabric of his jacket under the other. I could feel the sparks. Something special. But the one thing that caught and held my attention was the fact that he wasn't pulling away. It was a sheerly magical moment, and it would last forever, pure perfection -

At the sound of the door opening, Johnny stepped back. He put his cigarette to his lips quickly and gracefully. The kitchen cleaner turned around with a platter of broken dishes in his arms. Thankfully, he'd used his back to open the door because his hand were full and therefore didn't see anything.

Johnny lit his cigarette.

I nodded to the kitchen boy and went back inside. Neither Amy nor Vanessa suspected anything when I returned, though I felt completely horrible. Johnny came back to the dining table a short while later. Through the rest of the dinner, I tried to avoid eye contact with him, but he finally won out.

When our eyes met I nearly jumped from the intensity of his gaze. I had expected to see anger, or distaste, but instead saw something positive. He wasn't smiling blatantly, yet his eyes spoke an emotion I couldn't place - but it was definitely passionate. Passion - for me?