I Am More Than These Bones

Your wedding is supposed one of the best, if not the best day of your life. It's supposed to be filled with friends and family and laughter and love and good food and dancing. It's supposed to be something you'll remember, and remember vividly, for the rest of your life. A day when you were at your happiest. Because what could be better than finally finding the one person you love more than anything in the world and spending the rest of your life with them? I can't think of anything else that could be better. Unfortunately, that person, the one you love more than anything, the one you want to spend the rest of your life with, isn't necessarily the one you marry.

Sometimes people marry someone they love a great deal, but not enough. Sometimes people marry someone they only want to spend 2 or 10 or 5 years with. Sometimes people marry someone who turns out to be someone wildly different from who they were initially thought to be. Sometimes people marry someone who destroys them.

As I walked down the aisle, I took brief glances at the people sitting in the folding chairs on the well-maintained grass and I couldn't stop tears from welling in my eyes.

It wasn't my wedding. It wasn't my place to be emotional. It was my older sister Laila's wedding. She was the one who should be walking down the aisle on the verge of tears. She was the one who should be full to bursting with emotions. Not me.

Or at least, if I was to be teary-eyed and over-emotional, it should have been because I was beyond happy for my sister to finally be marrying her long lost high school sweetheart, Tim Kirch.

In the few months I had been back home, my sister had succeeded into roping me into being her Maid of Honor. Respectively, Pat Kirch, Tim's younger brother, was his Best Man. We were the last in the bridal party procession and took our respective places on opposite sides of the isle and waited for my sister to grace us with her bridely presence.

The wedding march began to place and shortly thereafter Laila started her long-awaited descent down the aisle, looking truly stunning. Laila was the kind of girl who had fantasized about her wedding day since she was in the fourth grade. The venue, the menu, her dress, her hair, the bridesmaid dresses, the flowers, every single little detailed thing certainly reflected that. "Great Gatsby Vintage Glam", is what she called it. If she wasn't already employed as a Vet, I'd say she should definitely look into a career in wedding planning.

I knew I shouldn't have looked, but I couldn't resist the urge. The expression on Tim's face as he ogled at Laila was so beautifully emotional and raw it made my heart do all sorts of crazy things. At first, I was jealous. That loving, longing, appreciative look Tim was casting my sister's way was the exact way I had always wanted someone to look at me. I tried to mature and rid myself of my jealousy. I tried to replace that jealousy with happiness. Happiness has not been my strongest felt emotion for a while now. That happiness soon faded and I was filled with a hollow sadness. No one was ever going to look at me like that.

Perhaps I spoke too soon. When Laila finally reached the alter and everyone took their seats, I tore my eyes from Tim and looked out at the crowd. Sitting two rows from the front on the groom's side, sat a russet-haired, blue-eyed, handsome-ass guy who was giving me more of a look than I deserved. Our eyes met and almost instantly I broke the gaze and blushed fiercely. Confidence? I had no idea what that was anymore.

I didn't look directly back at him, but managed to cast my vision in his general direction. General enough that I could see him elbow the tall and slender, dirty-blonde who was sitting next to him, gaining his attention. The dark-haired boy whispered something to the taller boy and then both of their eyes were on me. Since I wasn't making direct eye contact with either of them, I tried my best to stare forward unflinchingly, acting like I didn't notice their behavior.

Was it the Arizona spring sun or these two handsome strangers that were making me so uncomfortably hot?

The ceremony came and went and was proceeded by dinner and dessert and drinking and dancing. The venue was held outside, behind one of Tempe's luxurious hotels, and a clear sky full of luminous star hung above. I was the only member of the wedding party to still be seated. Everyone was up dancing or socializing or making s'mores at the fire pit. But I had no interest in doing any of those things. But 4 years ago—heck, even 1 year ago—I certainly would’ve been the life of the party at this reception. But not now. Not anymore.

I had all the company I needed right here at the table: a giant slice of Red Velvet cake, a handful of chocolate-dipped biscotti and a bottle of champagne.

"Seems like you're really the life of the party tonight." The russet-haired boy from earlier was now standing next to me, giving me a sheepish grin. "I think I'm gonna have to ask you to calm down."

I took a big gulp of my champagne before I responded. "If you think this is wild, just wait till you see what happens after I finish the rest of this bottle."

He gave me a genuine laugh, looking a little more comfortable now. "Do you mind if I help you with that?"

I tried my best to restrain the instinctive sigh that came out of my mouth. But my best wasn't good enough because it came out anyway and apparently wounded the stranger's feelings. "Okay. That's fair. Drinking alone definitely beats drinking with some awkward, red-headed stranger."

Before he could walk away I said, "No, no. I... didn't mean it like that. Sighing is just my natural response to questions. You can totally join me. Save me from looking like a lonely, young alcoholic."

His face lit up in an instant and he sat down in the chair next to mine, wasting no time in pouring himself a glass and downing it fully. "I'm Garrett. I play bass in the band that Tim manages."

I knew he was one of the band members, although his name and instrument of choice was new information to me. "I'm Maren. Laila’s sister."

"Maren." He repeated my name in fascination. "I've never heard that name before. It's pretty rad."

"Rad" was never a word I'd heard used to describe my name. I always thought my name was a bit odd. His compliment made me smile. "Yeah. It's kind of like Karen. But with a 'M". My dad's 100% Danish, like first generation American, so that's where my sister and I get our funny names from. Although, Laila isn't a Danish name—it is, but it’s main origin isn’t Danish— but Elin, her middle name, is. So I guess that counts. I think."

The second I let myself let my guard down, even a little, I was overflowing with words. The several glasses of champagne I had earlier might have affected some too. Embarrassing.

Garrett didn't seem to mind and continued to smile at me as though every word out of my mouth was nothing but pure fascination. "Danish, huh? I knew you guys were ethnic, but I don't think I would have ever guessed Danish. Is your mom Danish as well?"

"No. She's 100% American. Not a first generation, or second, or even third. Her family has been here for decades and decades," I informed him.

We talked more about my family then talked about his, then talked about high school and college and dream schools, and then talked about 20 other things and drank almost nearly as much as we talked. It was weird. I hadn't had a genuine conversation with a guy since... the specifics of the last time it happened were not important. It had been a very long time since I had held a stimulating conversation with anyone of the male variety. It had been a long time since I had held a decent conversation with anyone, really. Lately, I had not been interested in exchanging many words with anyone else.

Several people stopped over at the table during our conversation, asking Garrett, politely, to leave me and go do something else, but he declined every time. "I'm pretty sure this champagne and conversation are much more enthralling than watching Pat get marshmallow stuck in his hair."

It wasn't until the tall boy Garrett was sitting next to during the reception came over that Garrett seemed interested in leaving.

6 foot and sexy walked over to the table, sweaty, shirt half way unbuttoned, tie tied around his head and intoxicated. He smiled down at me and Garrett. "So this is where you've been hiding all night."

Garrett gave him an acknowledging nod. "Hiding in plain sight."

I had been swooning all night over Garrett's good looks and breath-taking blue eyes, but now it was time to swoon over the blonde-haired, broad-shoulder, long-legged beauty standing at our table.

"Hiding nonetheless," he countered and plopped down in a chair on the side of the table opposite us. "But at least now I know why. A way better reason than anyone was guessing."

Even in my drunken state I noticed Garrett's cheeks redden.

"Any reason is a good reason to avoid dancing," he tried to cover. But I wasn't dumb. I knew Garrett had spent the night talking to me not just because he didn't want to dance.

"Oh, I'm sure you were just trying to avoid dancing." He teased and eyed me hungrily.

The situation was uncomfortable. Garrett was still blushing. He had no words to defend himself and he wasn't going to admit to anything either. I was now blushing and I certainly had no words in Garrett's defense. So I did the only thing I could think of to dispel the awkward situation.

I stood, okay maybe stumbled, from my chair. "I think it's time for me to go to my room and watch a movie on Pay Per View and eat a shit ton of snacks from the over-priced mini-bar." I looked pointedly at Garrett. "But I think I'm a little too intoxicated to get myself there alone. Also, not the safest to wander around under the influence considering some guys out there are real creeps and might try to somehow take advantage of me. So, could you, I don't know, uh, help me get back to my room?"

I knew well what the implications of my request were. Garrett knew. Garrett's friend knew as well. But, for the life of me, I couldn't find a single fuck to give.

Considering all I had just went through, I shouldn’t have been so keen on the idea of hooking up with someone I had only met a few hours ago. But, considering all I had just went through and the amount of alcohol in my system, I figured I fucking deserved to hook up with someone I had only met a few hours ago.

Garrett popped up out of his chair, nearly knocking the table over and grabbed my hand. "I'd be glad to."

As we walked from the reception, towards the hotel, up to my room, I could feel my nerves building, my palms sweating, my thoughts jumbling. I wanted this. I wanted to do this with Garrett. But I was afraid. Afraid of intimacy after the last intimate experience I had had. Afraid that I would wake to an empty bed and an aching heart, leaving me to dwell on every bad moment of my past. But being afraid was all I had been in the past. Fearful and timid and close-mouthed. I wasn't going to be that anymore. At least, not tonight.

So as soon as I slid my key card into the reader and open my door, I grabbed a very nervous looking Garrett by the shirt collar and dragged him inside the room and flush against me. We stood there, pressed against each other, my hand clenching his shirt, his fingertips digging into my hips for what felt like an eternity. The tension between was so thick it left my breathing heavy.

My heart thumped. His heart thumped.

I was seconds away from plucking up the nerve and kissing him when he surprised me by planting his lips on mine. Well, I'd say he crashed, rather than planted, his lips on mine. But it was so very satisfying either way.

A moan instantly rose from his throat at the connection of our mouths. A moan of my own followed shortly after. That excited him and he deepened the kiss and let his hands stray from my hips to my ass. I didn't move my hands. I was far too focused on the feeling of another's mouth against my own. I hadn't felt that in a long time. I hadn't felt that without fear and sadness and confusion distorting the feeling, in a very long time.

We stood by the door kissing, Garrett's hands wandering, for what felt like hours and hours. I could feel his excitement pressing up against my thigh and knew he wanted to do more than kissing upright. I did too. And from what I could tell of Garrett, I knew he wouldn't push me to do any more than what we were doing now. If I wanted to do more, I would have to be the one to initiate it.

To initiate it, I began undoing the buttons of his dress shirt and that’s when I noticed how damn badly my hands were shaking.

Garrett noticed too and grabbed my hands, pressing a kiss to each of them. "It's okay. There's no need to be nervous."

"Nervous is my middle name." I smiled weakly at him.

"Funny name. Almost as bad as your first name." He playfully chuckled, finished unbuttoning his shirt and reconnected our lips.

I melted into the kiss and tried my best to let my anxiety slip away. It worked surprisingly well because moments later I managed to rid Garrett of his shirt. His pants followed. We had made it to the bed and I laid on my back, beneath an incredibly turned-on and determined Garrett Nickelsen.

His hands had certainly wandered to some inappropriate, but acceptable, places, during all of this and my body was burning with desire and thoughts polluted by alcohol. The only thing separating our heated bodies was underwear and a stupid bridesmaid dress. The remedy was simple. I took off my dress. Although it did cause a cog in our motions, seeing as it was a full-length dress and rather hard to remove when lying on your back with someone else on top of you.

Once we were both down to underwear, Garrett's mouth began to travel south down my body, trailing kisses. My heart was probably going to pound right out of my rib cage and through my chest any moment.

And just when I thought it was about to, Garrett's mouth detached from my body and I heard him say, "Oh my God. What is that? What happened?"

Fuck. I knew why he had stopped. I knew what he was so flabbergasted by. I knew what he had seen.

A six inch long, deep, not fully healed scar sitting between my left hip and belly button.

"Oh, that." I laughed nervously, trying my best to push all of the bad memories out of my head. "That was the last straw."