She watched him come back into the ballroom after another cigarette outside. Even two hours in, the wedding guests still followed his blue hair with pursed lips. His face was stone as he stood at the edge of the dance floor, looking for her and it didn’t soften when he found her. She owed him for this.

They’d been half-heartedly dating for about a month and would probably wind up half-hearted friends, but even an unentusiastic +1 was better than being at a wedding alone. It was a debt she was willing to take on.

“Hey, so I’m gonna split,” he said, when he got to where she was standing. “Matt is coming to pick me up.”

“You’re what? Why?”

“This isn’t my thing. I don’t know anyone. I shouldn’t have come.”

I wish I got mad. I wish I’d called him a cocksucker. I wish I laughed in his face. Instead, the recording that runs through my brain shows me tearing up and offering to leave now too, if he’d only come with me. And the cocksucker said no. He’d rather wait on the curb for his roommate to show up.