OH GOD i am so behind on daria. stupid life, i need more time to write.
september 11: jake’s birthday
I pressed my fingertips against the glass, and my nose almost touched it too. My breath left a slight fog on the window which I wiped away with my palm.
“Miss,” the hostess said behind me, “your table is ready.”
The clock above the bar told me it was 8pm on the dot, and I stood alone in the penthouse restaurant, looking at Boston stretched out below me. I smiled at the girl, taking my fingers off the glass.
“Do you mind if I wait in the bar for a few minutes?”
“Not at all,” she said, stepping away. I picked up my wine glass from the bench next to me, taking a sip of expensive shiraz, and watched the few couples dining in the restaurant behind me. I took a seat at the bar, pushing the now-empty glass over to the bartender.
“Another?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Don’t judge me,” I smirked. “But yes.”
He pulled the cork from the bottle, filling a clean glass for me. “Special occasion?”
I nodded. “Fiancé’s birthday.”
“Are you celebrating alone?”
“I hope not.”
The bartender grinned. “If you need a companion...”
“Are you paying?”
The next time I looked at the clock, it was 8.17, and my second wine was almost drained. My bartender was telling me about the semester he’d spent in Amsterdam, and I could hear my stomach rumbling.
Jake walked through the door a minute later, throwing me his most apologetic look. “I’m sorry. The plane was late.”
“It’s okay.” I stepped off the bar stool and into his arms, pressing my lips to his. “Happy birthday.”
“Have you been waiting long?”
“Half an hour. But it’s okay.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
The hostess showed us to our table, up against the window. Jake’s hand reached across the table, squeezing mine. We’d been apart for two weeks, with him on road trips and me in New York. I didn’t care about the expensive dinner, or dressing in Dolce, or this vista of the city. I wanted him, but I also didn’t want to be the needy girl who clings to her boyfriend as soon as he comes home.
“So, have you talked to Newt yet?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I thought about calling him, but... I shouldn’t have to.”
“Even if you shouldn’t be the one who reaches out, you might need to be. You know how he is.”
Jake grinned. “Yeah.”
“Why are you so wise, boy?” I asked, cocking my head slightly.
“Ahh, it’s from my many 29 years on this earth.”
“I can’t believe you’re 30 next year. You’re almost a silver fox.”
I smiled, resting my chin on my palm. “It feels like just yesterday that you were a young 24-year-old trying to pick me up on a balcony.”
“If only I’d been successful...”
“All good things are worth the wait, right?”
We ate and drank until we were full, walking through the dark streets until the wine wore off and we were back home, stumbling down the hallway, kicking off my shoes as his lips sought out my neck, my collarbone and Ash barked but we slammed the bedroom door and he threw me on the bed, a heady rush of shiraz and lust and longing that made my dress fall to the floor and his shirt soon followed.
“Is this another present?” he asked, slipping a finger beneath my black lace underwear. I nodded, my fingers gripping his shoulders. He straddled me, still wearing his pants but I could feel him against my stomach. My legs shook with anticipation. In between deep, lengthy kisses, his lips whispered things ranging from tenderly sweet and longing to furiously dirty.
I wrapped my legs around him, wanting him more than I thought I ever had.
september 14-16: bridesmaid's weekend away
“Oh my God.”
I glanced over at Emily. She was standing on the front porch of my Burlington house, her hands clasping the white wooden rails.
“What?” I asked.
“This... air. It’s so fresh.”
“You need to get out of New York more,” I murmured, shaking my head.
“You’re going to make me suburban.”
“Are you suggesting I’m suburban?”
“Well, you do live in Boston.”
“Which is a city.”
I rolled my eyes as I slid the key into the front door, opening the house for the first time since summer. It smelled old, but not dusty; familiar and warm. I showed the girls around my house, through all the nooks and crannies that I grew up in. It was an out-of-the-way pit stop on our trip to Manchester.
The drive to the resort wound through country roads lit up by the golden colours of the fall, and we made roadside stops for pictures in the leaves.
The sun was setting by the time we arrived at the Equinox, making it look even more gilded. The white double-story welcomed us through the front door, and the staff swept us off our feet and up to our suites.
Soon after, the event manager was at my door, welcoming me back to the property.
“I’ve heard that the leaves are going to stay out a little longer for you this year,” he said with a smile.
“Don’t get my hopes up!”
“I can almost guarantee it. They turned a bit later here, so they’ll probably still be around for your wedding photos.”
“Quaint,” Emma smirked, stretching her legs out on the long sofa. We’d claimed the hotel’s biggest two bedroom suite, while Emily and Libby shacked up next door.
“Shut up. You’re my maid of honour, you’re meant to be supportive.”
“I am supportive. Of you becoming a boring quaint married person, if you want to. These are your life choices, Daria, I’m just helping.”
I grinned, waving goodbye to the events manager.
“Less than two months, we’ll be back here.”
Emma grinned. “I can’t wait.”
“Daria! Hurry up!”
“I’m coming!” I yelled, finishing off the braid in my hair. I threw on one of the plush robes provided by the hotel, stepping out into the suite’s living room. Emma glanced over at me, raising her eyebrows.
“Do you like my robe?” I asked in my most sultry voice, sticking my bare leg out the split in the centre.
“Stop, please,” Emma said, covering her eyes. “You’re making me blush.”
“I can’t help being sexy.”
“You need to hurry up, we’re already late,” she reminded me, flopping down on the couch, already fully dressed.
Emma rolled her eyes, and waited for me as I slipped into my jeans and most appropriate riding boots. I’d somehow conned the girls into going trail riding all morning. Something like bridesmaid’s guilt.
“I can’t believe you’re making me touch wild animals,” Emily grumbled as we walked to the stables.
“They’re horses, they’re not wild.”
“Whatever,” she scoffed.
september 21: dinner with newt
okay. i was going to write these two stories but i don’t have time. so i’ll just tell you what happened:
daria went back to new york for a while and called newt. they went out to dinner and he apologised for being a drama queen, and is very confused about his love life and whether he wants to be with adam or not.
october 6-7: weekend away with jake
jake and daria went to chicago for a weekend to just be anonymous and hang out and do touristy things before the wedding stuff got too crazy. nothing very exciting happened.
next story will be the bachelorette party. @anonymiss you have some responsibility for this ;)