Playing With Fire

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Bridgette asked for the millionth time. Olivia rolled her eyes, playing with the radio on her parked car. It quickly grew boring, though, and she turned the volume off.

"Of course I'll be fine. I'm a Swenson, we're tough. So even if I'm not, I'll beat up some decorations until I am," she said in her best manly voice. "Oh, c'mon Bridge, laugh. Lighten the hell up."

"I'm sorry," Bridgette sighed over the phone. "I'm just so nervous and stressed and I can't help but feeling like I'm forgetting something all the time!"

Olivia chuckled, turning off the engine and twirling her keys around her pointer finger. "It comes with the territory of bride-to-be, or so I hear. But that's what you have me here for. Now go shopping with your mother and pick out something totally hot to wear for your party tonight. I promise when you walk in the room, it will be flawless. I'm taking care of this."

"Okay," Bridgette mumbled reluctantly. "But if there are any problems, just call! I'll have my cell, and my mom will have hers, and Reece has a meeting, but if it's important and me and Mom aren't picking up, just call-"

"Goodbye, darling," Olivia cut her off. "Love you chica."

She snapped the phone shut before Bridgette could protest. The parking lot of the hotel was relatively empty as Olivia strolled through it. Multiple canvas bags dangled from her wrists as her heels clacked against the pavement. Her sundress flapped around her thighs in the wind, and the sun was so bright, she had to squint despite her sunglasses.

The inside of the hotel seemed nearly as dead as the outside lot. She slid her aviators onto the top of her head carefully as she entered the lobby, her eyes scanning for any sign of the best man. She saw his slouching figure sitting in one of the leather chairs, his eyes half closed as he dozed off. She smirked a little bit, mumbling under her breath.

"So, you actually made it on time today," she said with a fake cheeriness. James jumped up, his lips setting into a frown as he saw her approach. His eyes narrowed slightly as she hovered over him.

"I told you, something was going on at the label," he said defensively. "I do this thing called work, as hard as you may find it to believe."

"Okay, Teenybopper," Olivia said sarcastically. "As long as you're here now, quite frankly I don't care about your excuses. We're wasting precious decorating time! Now, exactly how good are you with floral arrangements?"

"Uh, what?" James tilted his head and watched her like she was some foreign, unknown alien. Olivia sighed and shook her head.

"Oh no, that's not a good sign. Definitely no flowers for you. You're on lighting duty, then. Here," she said, handing him one of the bags in her hands before turning on the stiletto heel and starting toward the ballroom.

James seemed stuck in place as he curiously peered inside the bag she'd thrust into his arms. Inside of it was string upon string of tangled white fairy lights. He blinked at it a few times, and by the time he looked up to ask about them, Olivia was halfway down the carpeted hallway.

"Hey!" he called, dashing after her. She didn't turn around or slow down, but merely hummed a response to show she heard him. James struggled to catch up and keep pace, and he had no idea how she walked so fast in those shoes and with the remaining, bulging bags.

"If you have a question, spit it out," she commanded after a few moments when he finally struggled beside her.

"What am I doing with these?"

"You're going to string them along the ballroom, you know? Around the head table, from the hooks on the ceilings. And then once you do that, we can hang the paper lanterns from them. Comprende?"

He blinked at her, and she pursed her lips and stared up at the ceiling, but never stopped walking. Finally, he realized that was not the appropriate answer. So he managed a nod and carried on behind her until they reached the ballroom.

"Okay, the ladder's right there, and don't put the lights on the head table until I get it covered with the table cloth. Once you finish with that, come find me and I'll get you the paper lanterns, okay? Now get to it!" Olivia commanded.

James set his bags on the nearest table and began to untangle the white strands of light. Olivia had plopped her bags down a few tables over and was pulling out snow white table clothes. It was completely silent as they worked, aside from James sliding the ladder across the floor every so often and Olivia rustling through the bags and fluttering lightly around the room.

Once he got the hang of it, his job wasn't too bad at all. The only problem he had was the uncomfortable silence, but he wouldn't dare break it. Something about Bridgette's scrawny best friend was absolutely intimidating. She was quicker with comebacks and insults than Bridgette, or anyone he knew for that matter, and James had a feeling if he opened his mouth it would only lead to problems.

He lost track of time, but it had to have been at least an hour before either of them spoke. James was finished with hanging lights and working on colorful paper lanterns, and Olivia had the tables all covered and set, centerpieces at all. Olivia's voice was calm and steady as it pierced the silence. It was actually the nicest James had ever heard her voice when it was directed at him.

“You need to stop,” she stated out of the blue, primping a vase full of lilies on one of the tables.

James looked up from across the room, his eyebrows furrowed together. A light blue sphere lantern was dangling in mid-air as James froze in the middle of hanging it. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and then cleared his throat.

“Stop what?”

Olivia did nothing but scoff in response as she weaved from table to table fixing slight imperfections. James could feel his cheeks heating up and his heart thudding in his ears. What could he have possibly done to offend her now?

“You’re whole I-hate-the-world, attitude, the feigned indifference to the wedding. It’s gotta end. I know you can't tell through all your moping around and wallowing in self pity, but you’re hurting Bee and Reece. And you certainly aren't helping my mood either.”

“And what do I care?” he snapped back.

Olivia's tone lowered as she turned her back to him and fixed a crease in one of the table cloths. “You may play the whole 'I don't give a damn' role really well, but we both know you care a hell of a lot about both of them. I don't know what you've convinced yourself or them, but you sure as hell aren't fooling me.”

James fell silent, putting up the last of the lanterns. He didn’t say another word. Even if he wanted to, he had no idea where to start or how to say it. Olivia left him alone in his thoughts as she began to pull framed photos from the bags, which had been moved to a corner on the floor. She started to arrange them on one of the tables set against the wall as some sort of montage of Reece and Bridgette. James's head was spinning as he stepped off the ladder.

"Okay," he murmured finally, just loud enough for Olivia to hear. She caught his eye and nodded before biting her bottom lip and centering one of the photographs. There was a relapse of the heavy silence.

"Would you mind pulling the chairs from the storage room and setting them around the tables?" she asked after awhile, and James nodded, relieved to have something else to focus on. Even so, her words echoed loudly in his head as he helped set up the engagement party for his best friend and the girl who had been his world.