Colours

I stood in the corner of the reception hall holding a glass of vodka. No soda. No orange juice. Just vodka. It was my only ally, and the only way I was getting through this reception.

I smiled at people as they walked by, staring at the strange girl in the corner drinking alone and wearing a black dress. I wasn't sure if I was brave or completely stupid for showing up to this thing.

The wedding party began to walk in and I sighed heavily at the sympathetic looks I got from his brothers. I waved it off and walked to my table so I would have a seat to collapse in when I saw them.

"Mr and Mrs Jordan Staal," The emcee yelled into the microphone. I rolled my eyes and downed the rest of my vodka, revelling at the burn in my throat. It was the only thing that took away from the ache in my heart.

My mother looked at me from across the table and gave me her motherly sad eyes. I rolled my eyes and walked off to get another vodka. I needed to be heavily sedated to get through the montage of their relationship, speeches, the first dance, and the cutting of the cake. I wanted to be so drunk that my father would have to carry me out of this damn place.

"Double vodka on the rocks, please." I mumbled to the bartender.

"I've already given you two in the last twenty minutes," The bartender stated, as if I didn't already know it.

"I'm drinking for the bride," I smiled. "I have a feeling she won't have time to drink today, so I'm doing it for her."

The bartender gave me a look before making my drink. I raised my glass to her before walking back to my table. I could see him perfectly from my seat. He looked incredible. I always thought he looked great in a tuxedo, and I guess I naively thought he would be wearing a tuxedo on our wedding day.

But when he went to Pittsburgh and asked me to go with him, I said no. I was going to school in Toronto. I couldn't give that up. And just like that we were over and he was taking Heather with him to Pittsburgh. Jordan never seemed to forget me though. It was as if in Pittsburgh it was Jordan and Heather, but when he was back at home it was Jordan and me; Jordan and Whitney. I guess a part of me always thought that Heather was my stand-in, that once I was done school and ready for a relationship that Jordan and I would be together.

Yeah. Seeing as I'm at Jordan and Heather's wedding, I guess that didn't turn out so well.

It's not that I didn't try. During the summers Jordan was home I'd continuously ask him to come back to me, and that he and I should be together for real, but he never made up his mind. And when he did he never told me about it.

I knew Jordan from when we were kids. My dad worked for Henry Staal so I was around Jordan from time to time, and he and I went to school together.

I pursed my lips and everyone began to clink their glasses together to make Jordan and Heather kiss. I gripped at my napkin, my heart racing and I wasn't sure if it was from the vodka or the fact that my heart was being ripped from my chest. I looked down at my empty plate and planned my escape. I couldn't be here anymore. I don't care if Jordan saw me now, I was clearly delusional thinking I could stand to be here.

I got up, grabbing my purse and walked towards the bathroom. I would stay in there as long as I had to. I could sit there and watch him and Heather be in love. Not when it should be me up there with him.

I must have been in the bathroom for a good forty minutes because I heard music begin to play. After another fifteen minutes my mom came in looking for me.

"Whit? Do you want to go home?" Came her voice, soft and delicate as if I were still a child. Well, seeing as I was hiding in a bathroom instead of sucking it up and showing my face to Jordan I guess I was pretty childish.

"No," I replied, leaning against the wall of the bathroom stall. I had been cramped in here for about an hour. "I just need five more minutes and then I'll come out. Wouldn't want to miss the cake being cut."

"Why did you come, Whitney?" My mother sighed. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Because I deserve it," I muttered, unlocking the bathroom stall and walking out.

"Whitney," My mother scolded. I shot her a look that told her I wasn't at liberty to have this fight right now. She sighed and nodded, leaving without saying a word. I stood and stared at my reflection before a knock came to the door.

"Uh, it's open?" I replied. This wasn't a one person bathroom. What the hell was this crazy bitch doing?

The door swung open and there he stood. All 6'4 of him. Tall, blonde, handsome and grinning like an idiot.

"This is the women's bathroom," I stated, my eyes wide and staring at him. I went to cover myself, as if it were a locker room and he hadn't seen me naked before.

Please, Whitney. He's seen you naked more times than you can probably remember.

"I know," Jordan chuckled, running his hand over his jawline. His wedding band stared at me, mocking me. I could almost see her fingerprints on it.

"You want to go for a walk, Tiny?" Jordan asked, motioning towards the back exit of the hall. I crumbled at his nickname for me. It was a well suited nickname. I was barely 5'2 and he was a giant. When we'd kiss he used to grab my hips and lift me up so our mouths were actually close.

"I don't think your wife would like that," I mumbled, leaning against the sink. The vodka was hitting me hard now.

"Don't worry about her," Jordan smiled, holding his hand out for me to take. "She knew you were invited. And she probably knows that you and I would have a talk."

"Are you breaking up with me again?" I asked, half joking half serious. I couldn't deal with the idea of losing Jordan completely.

Jordan laughed lightly, but didn't answer. He grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the bathroom, leading me towards the back exit.

"So a black dress, huh?" Jordan smiled as we walked towards the parking lot on a nice pathway.

"I'm in mourning," I smirked up at him, trying not to shimmy my hips so his hand would slide from my waist to my backside.

"Cute," Jordan grinned. "Well jokes on you, Whit. You look beautiful."

"Thanks, Jordan," I nodded. "You look good, too."

"I've been told I clean up well," Jordan laughed softly, looking down at his shoes.

We walked in silence for a bit along the path. I guess Jordan was waiting until no one could see us so he could truly talk to me.

"I'm sorry about what went down all those years ago with us," Jordan sighed, once we were under a gazebo. The setting was painfully romantic and I wanted to punch myself in the face.

"It's fine," I replied, shaking my head.

"No, it isn't," Jordan replied, shaking his own head. He shut his eyes and tugged at his hair. "If I had my way I would be with you, Whit."

"What do you mean 'your way'?" I asked, glaring at him. How dare he say that to me? He knew how I felt about him.

"I can risk losing Heather, but I can't risk losing you," Jordan mumbled.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I asked, grabbing his wrists. I refused to look down at his left hand. Nope. Wouldn't do it.

"If Heather and I get divorced I will know what I've always known and it's that you and I are meant to be together," Jordan replied. "If I married you and it didn't work out I would die, Whitney. Marrying Heather seemed like the easiest way out of losing you for good. I don't know. It made sense in my head."

I stared at him, unable to speak. What in the hell was this idiot babbling on about? If he knew we were meant to be together why the fuck was I not the one in the white gown?

I balled up my fist and punch Jordan as hard as I could in the chest, granted it hurt me more than it hurt him.

"I hate you," I growled up at him. Tears threatened to fall from my eyes, but I refused to cry over him for one more night.

"You don't," Jordan replied, shaking his head. He grabbed both of my wrists, his wedding band was cold, but it felt like it was burning a hole through my skin.

"You love me," Jordan stated, backing me up against one of the poles of the gazebo. "You'll always love me, just like I'll always love you."

"Then why aren't we together?" I screamed, not caring who heard me. I was sick and tired of this cat and mouse game. I was sick of being his second best.

Jordan wouldn't reply to me. He leaned and down and kissed me instead. I could taste Heather's lipgloss on his mouth and it made my blood boil. It made me kiss Jordan that much harder. No, I wanted her to taste my lipstick on her husbands mouth. He was mine. He might not be mine right now, but he was mine.

I whimpered as Jordan pressed his body completely against mine. His giant hands reached beneath the already short hemline of my dress and ran up between my thighs.

"Jordan," I whispered and I felt him shudder a little bit underneath my hands.

"Fuck, I miss hearing you say my name," Jordan mumbled, kissing along my collarbone.

I wanted to argue and tell him that he shouldn't have married her then. If he wanted it to be me under him, moaning his name then he should have been with me and not Heather.

Jordan's right hand crept up between my legs, and slipped into my underwear. I felt his thumb rub my centre gently and I felt him groan.

"God, fuck," He groaned into my neck. "I miss being buried here."

Was it bad that I was getting an incredible ego boost right then? A newly married man, who used to be my boyfriend, had his hand in my panties and was telling me he missed being buried between my legs. I'm sure they're preparing my room in hell as we speak.

"I love you," Jordan mumbled, pressing his forehead to mine. He kissed me one more time before pulling his hand out from beneath my dress and walking away.

"I love you, too." I replied. I stayed there for a moment, collecting myself. I knew he was going back to be with his wife. I was just some girl he used to love, he had a wife now. But a part of me was happy that we had that moment together.

It would be our last moment together for a long time because moments later he got the call that he was being traded to Carolina.