☾︎✿︎☽︎
“These are too open,” Gigi said, poking at a rose like it had personally offended her.
“They’re full bloom for the ceremony aesthetic—”
“I don’t want ‘aesthetic.’ I want perfection.”
Zoey stepped in before the florist could respond. “Maybe we can mix in tighter buds for contrast?” she suggested. “So it still looks full, but not overly mature.”
The florist’s shoulders dropped in relief. “Yes, that would actually balance it really nicely.”
Gigi considered it for half a second. “…fine. But I don’t want it looking messy.”
“Of course,” Zoey smiled.
By the third arrangement, a pattern had formed.
Gigi criticises.
Staff panic.
Zoey translates.
“Too much green.”
“She’s looking for something more floral-heavy.”
“This feels empty.”
“We can add more texture and layering.”
“I hate this ribbon.”
“We can swap it for silk instead of satin?”
Every time, the same result. Relief. Adjustment. Crisis averted.
At one point, one of the assistants approached Zoey directly. “Um—would you prefer the ivory or the soft blush wrap for the bridal bouquet?”
Zoey blinked. Not Gigi. Her. She glanced over. Gigi was across the room, scrolling through her phone, barely paying attention. Zoey hesitated for half a second… then answered. “Soft blush. It’ll tie everything together better.”
“Got it,” the assistant smiled, already moving.
The relief in the air was almost palpable, and Zoey could almost hear the florist's internal sigh of gratitude.
"So are you planning my wedding or your wedding?"
Zoey snapped her head toward Gigi, who stared at her, arms folded to her chest. "Excuse me?"
"I mean, the people here are coming to you instead of me, you know, THE BRIDE," she said with a shrug. "And it's already bad enough you hijacked my future in-laws."
Zoey's grip on her patience was starting to fray. "First of all, I didn't hijack anything. I'm just simply translating your wedding vision from bridezilla to—I dunno—the opposite of bridezilla."
"Bridezilla?" She repeated the word like it was a bad smell clinging to her silk dress. "I'm not bridezilla. I have standards."
Zoey raised an eyebrow. "Well, standards don't usually come with emotional and verbal abuse. Just saying."
Gigi rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. You're acting like I'm being a diva for wanting my wedding to be perfect."
"Yeah, but no one wants to be yelled at and bossed around every five minutes." Zoey pointed out.
“It’s not yelling," Gigi argued, her tone becoming forceful. "It’s correcting. There is a difference."
"There's correcting," Zoey said, gesturing vaguely to the terrified florist, "and then there's making a grown woman cry because she didn't know 'cerulean' wasn't the same shade as 'royal blue'."
Gigi waved a dismissive hand. "She seemed fine to me. Besides, if they can't handle a little pressure, they shouldn't be in the wedding business."
Gather yourself, Z. She ain't worth it. Gather yourself, Z. She ain't worth it. She repeated the mantra in her head.
"Anyways, I just confirmed dinner for you with your parents."
Zoey froze, slowly turning to face Gigi. "You what?"
"I confirmed dinner with your parents," Gigi added, like it was nothing, "this weekend. Seven o'clock."
Zoey’s jaw dropped.
"What the fuck, Gigi?!" Zoey exploded.
“Okay, first off, don’t yell at me," Gigi said, wrinkling her nose as if Zoey had just sworn in a cathedral. "Second, what's the big deal? It’s just dinner with your parents. And at least I told you ahead of time this.
"No, no, no," Zoey snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. "You don't get to make decisions for me without my say-so. That was out of line."
Gigi's expression shifted like a storm rolling in, suddenly cold, eyes glacial.
"Oh, so now you have a problem with me making plans? The same person who ran like a coward the moment she saw her parents walk into my future sister-in-law’s yard and has been micromanaging every single detail of MY wedding because apparently I'm incapable?" Her voice stayed low, controlled, but the venom was there. "Pick a lane, Zoey."
“Okay, first off, I am your maid of honour. I’m supposed to be helping you make sure nothing gets caught on fire. Secondly, you invited them to Tati's brunch without giving me a heads up. And you're doing it again by setting up dinner with them, and you expect me to be fine with that?"
Gigi threw her hands up in exasperation. "For fuck's sake, Zoey. Can you just let me do one nice thing without making it into a huge drama? I'm trying to help you mend fences with your parents." Her voice rose despite her earlier control.
"I never asked you to 'mend fences'!" Zoey shot back. “For crying out loud, I’m a grown woman who can make her own choice and can decide for herself.”
“Then act like it,” Gigi raised her voice, startling Zoey. “Your parents are family to me, and it’s already bad enough that you embarrassed me when you took off and ran like a dog with a tail between its legs.”
"I never—"
"I don't want to hear it," Gigi cut her off. "Be there. Bring your gym rat boyfriend for moral and emotional support if you're too much of a pussy to go by yourself.”
Zoey's jaw locked so hard it ached. "Don't bring Abby into this."
Gigi smirked, that sharp little upward tilt that meant she'd hit a nerve.
"But I thought he was your moral support? God forbid you actually have to function without a crutch."
She turned back to the florist. "I want these peonies bigger."
The bell above the door chimed again. Zoey turned instinctively. And there he was. Caleb.
Slightly out of breath, like he'd rushed over.
"Hey, sorry, I'm late—"
Gigi didn't even try to hide her annoyance. "Of course you are."
Caleb glanced between them, immediately picking up on the tension. "I lost track of time," he said. "Practice ran over."
"Riiiiiight," Gigi replied flatly. "Because planning our wedding isn't important or anything."
"I'm here now, aren’t I?" he retorted, a little firmer.
That did it. Gigi let out a short, humourless laugh.
"Yeah. You are." She grabbed her bag. "I need to take this call," she said, already turning. "Handle whatever's left."
Gigi exited the flower boutique, phone already to her ear, leaving Zoey and Caleb standing in the floral-scented wreckage of what had just happened.
Caleb looked at Zoey, his expression a mix of apology and "what the fuck just happened."
"You good?" he asked quietly.
Zoey let out a draining sigh, rubbing her forehead. "I'm fine, Caleb."
But she wasn't. Her shoulders were still tight, her jaw aching from grinding her teeth. She could still feel the heat of that fight simmering under her skin.
Caleb stepped closer, his voice softening. "That didn't look like 'fine'." He glanced toward the hallway where Gigi had disappeared. "She is still doing the whole 'bridezilla' routine?"
"She's been doing it since she got here," Zoey rolled her eyes and sighed. "But I guess it's understandable since your wedding is only like two weeks away."
"Understandable?" Caleb raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure 'understandable' is the word I'd use for... whatever that was."
“Well, this is Gigi we’re talking about. Ever the perfectionist.”
He shrugged. "I don't get why she’s being so difficult about it. It's just a wedding."
"Well, Caleb, she's marrying a famous NBA player. So obviously it's not just a wedding to her."
Caleb let out a surprised laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Right. Because marrying me automatically makes everything more dramatic." He shook his head. “Well, is there anything I can help with, Ms Maid of Honour?"
Zoey hummed in deep thought, looking around the boutique. "I think we pretty much covered everything on the agenda today."
"Great. ‘Cause I'm treating you to lunch."
Zoey's eyes widened. "Caleb--"
"Don't even start," Caleb cut her off, giving her a warm smile. "You just survived an hour of Bridezilla warfare. You deserve a meal. A real one." He glanced at the florist. "Are we good here?"
The florist nodded vigorously. "Yes. We have all the notes. We're good."
"Good." Caleb turned back to Zoey. “Come on. It’s my treat. Consider it hazard pay for dealing with my future wife."
"Caleb, really, you don't have to—"
"I want to," he insisted. “Now get to stepping before I throw you over my shoulder and carry you out.”
Zoey laughed despite herself, imagining Caleb throwing her over his shoulder like a caveman. "Alright, alright, big shot. Lunch it is."
She grabbed her bag and followed him out, the florist waving goodbye sympathetically.
☾︎✿︎☽︎
The bell above the door chimed as Zoey stepped into a place she hadn't seen in years.
It hadn't changed. That was the first thing she noticed. The same red vinyl booths. The same checkered floor. The same smell of grease and coffee, and something sweet from the pie case near the register. The same faded posters of old movies and artists on the walls, curling at the edges like they'd been there since before she was born.
"Whoa," she breathed.
Caleb smiled behind her. "Brings back memories, right?"
"The Booth," she said, pointing to the corner.
Their corner. The one they'd claimed in high school. The one where they'd spent countless afternoons doing homework, sharing fries, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.
"Still there," Caleb said. "I checked."
"You checked?"
He shrugged, but there was something soft in his eyes. "I come here sometimes. When I'm back from the game. When I need to... remember."
“Remember what?” she asked.
“You know…” he shrugged again. “Life before becoming an adult.”
"Before we had to be responsible and stuff?" she suggested lightly, sliding into their old booth.
The vinyl pressed cool against her skin, and she ran her fingers over the same spot she'd carved her initials into senior year before Caleb caught her and carved his over them, pretending to be annoyed.
"What are you thinking about?"
Zoey blinked, then shook her head. "It's nothing."
"Liar," he said without missing a beat, sliding across from her into the seat next to her. The booth creaked the same way it always did. "You always do that thing where you rub your neck and avoid looking at people when something's eating at you."
She opened her mouth to protest, and he held up a finger. "Before you say 'It’s nothing, really,' I've known you since we were in high school. So that’s not going to work on me, hun."
"I wasn't going to say anything," Zoey protested defensively.
“You didn’t have to,” he countered, his eyes glinting with that familiar teasing light. “Deflecting has become your default setting at this point. So what’s up?”
Zoey was silent for a moment before she sighed. "Gigi set up dinner with my parents without asking me, and we ended up fighting over it."
Caleb's expression softened. "Ah." He leaned back in the booth, the leather creaking under his weight. "That... was pretty shitty. Did you tell her how you feel about it?"
"I did. But that somehow translated to me being ungrateful and overreacting," she shrugged helplessly. "Maybe I am, and my feelings got the best of me, and I failed to see that she's trying to help, but..."
"But...?"
"I just wish she didn't make decisions for me, you know?" She said. "I know I haven't been in contact with my parents for the last two years, and she wants to mend that rift, but I feel like she's not letting me have a say in how I want to approach my parents or anything for that matter."
She shrugged again. “But like I said, maybe I’m overreacting and letting the stress of seeing them again get the best of me and took it out on her.”
"Zo, you're allowed to have feelings. And you're allowed to voice them, even if they're not what someone else wants to hear," he reasoned, his tone gentle but firm. "But maybe... just maybe, she's coming from a place of love? You know, wanting what's best for you?"
“Yeah, you're probably right," Zoey said in a resigned sigh. "I can't keep avoiding my parents. Maybe this is the push I need."
"Probably," Caleb conceded. "I still think she went about it the wrong way. But this is Gigi we’re talking about. She hasn’t always been known for having the highest EQ. Remember how people used to call her modern-day Regina George?"
"Caleb!" She gasped.
Caleb held up his hands in surrender, but his grin was unrepentant. "Hey, I'm just saying what we all thought. She was the queen bee. Still is, actually."
“Oh, I’m sorry. Who was it that put a ring on her finger again? I’ll wait,” Zoey replied, placing her fist on her chin.
He leaned back again, folding his arms loosely. "Okay, don't get me wrong, I love the woman, but she's got... edges." He paused, his expression shifting. "Sharp edges. She cuts through things without realising she's drawing blood. And she wants to fix things, she just takes a sledgehammer to the wall instead of finding the door."
Zoey bit her lip. "That is terrifyingly accurate." She traced a pattern on the Formica table.
The waiter came and placed the menus in front of them.
"So," he said. "Abby."
Zoey's fork paused mid-air. "What about him?"
“Where is he? I thought he’d at least be with you, helping you with wedding errands.”
Zoey’s face flushed. “He doesn’t have to follow me around everywhere I go,” she waved him off, laughing nervously.
“Zo,” Caleb gave her a ‘don’t lie to me’ look.
Zoey let out a relenting sigh. “Things are kinda awkward between us, and I’m kinda sorta embarrassed to face him.”
Caleb arched an eyebrow. "Awkward how? Like 'we had a fight' awkward or 'we had sex, and now it's weird' awkward?"
“The second one, except we didn’t actually have sex-sex. Just him helping me…” she paused, trying to find the right words. “Relieve myself.”
Caleb blinked once, then twice, processing. "He helped you... relieve yourself." He repeated slowly, his voice measured, his face completely neutral. Not judgmental. Not mocking. Just... absorbing the information. "So. Mutual masturbation? Dry humping? He went down on you?"
“Oh, God. Don’t say it like that!” she covered her face.
“What? I need specifics, Zo,” he laughed. “You can’t just say he ‘helped relieve yourself’ and expect me to automatically know what you mean.”
Zoey groaned into her hands, muffling her voice. "You are literally the worst person on the planet right now."
“Come on, Zo. We’re adults having an adult conversation. Lay it on me.”
She lowered her hands slowly, her cheeks burning. "He... used his fingers. Okay? There. That's the specifics. And now I can't look him in the eye without remembering exactly where his hands were."
His expression softened. “First time?”
Zoey nodded slightly. “I don’t know… It’s just weird between us.”
“Is it really weird between you two, or are you making it weird by overthinking it?”
The question caught her off guard.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s more so that I don’t know how to talk to him about it?” she answered. “Like, how do I even start the convo? ‘Hey, can we talk about how you got me off last night and that I actually liked it? Yeah, not awkward at all.
Caleb laughed. “It’s a start. That’s how communication works, Zo.”
“Yeah, but he’s my best friend,” she said, without thinking.
“Best friend?” Caleb repeated, arching an eyebrow.
Shit! Zoey’s eyes widened, realising her slip-up.
“W-what I mean is, I’m still trying to get used to the idea of us actually dating,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I mean, we’ve been friends for so long it’s kinda hard to turn that off. I’m sure it was like that when you and Gigi started dating.”
“Yeah, but she was more of your friend than she was mine,” he replied. “It kinda came as a shock to me that she actually liked me enough to consider dating me since I wasn’t her type.” The conversation took a sharp turn, and Zoey felt the shift in the air. Caleb's admission hung between them, something vulnerable and raw that he rarely shared.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice softer. "
"You know..." He gestured at himself vaguely. "A black guy. I mean, I'm only half black and half Filipino, but I'm the blackest Asian you'll ever see,” he chuckled at himself. “I remember her calling me Blasian Shaka Zulu back in high school."
"Yeah. And I remember scolding her and telling her how racist that was." Zoey rolled her eyes. "But she must have changed since then, now that y'all are together, right?"
"Sure, you could say that," Caleb answered vaguely.
Before Zoey could press further, the waitress came by their booth.
“Ready to order?” she asked.
“Uh, yes,” Zoey quickly picked up the menu. “I think I’ll have the fries with cheese cream and bacon bits sprinkled on top.”
“And you, sir?” the waitress turned to Caleb.
Caleb glanced down at the menu, tapping his finger against the laminate before closing it. "I'll take the buffalo chicken wrap, extra crispy, curly fries on the side. And a sweet tea, please."
The waitress nodded, scribbling down the order and taking their menus. "Coming right up." She bustled away, leaving them alone again.
"Tell me about him."
Zoey blinked at his question. “About who?”
“Abby,” he said.
“Didn’t you get the chance to get to know him at the braai?”
“Yes, but I want to hear from you. Who he is. Why he's the one?" He leaned against the table, arms crossed, but his voice was soft. Not demanding. Just... curious. "I've seen the way he looks at you. The way you look at him. I want to understand."
Zoey was quiet for a moment, her eyes lingering on his before shifting them to the table.
"He's ridiculous," she said. "And the reason I ask if I’m actually his girlfriend or his unpaid babysitter. He also thinks birds are government drones."
Caleb blinked. "Government drones?"
"I'm serious. He has a whole conspiracy theory about it. Pigeons specifically. He says they're 'charging stations' for the surveillance equipment or something."
Caleb stared at her for a long moment. Then he burst out laughing. The kind of laugh that turned heads, that made other customers glance over, that filled the whole diner with warmth.
"That's who you're dating?" he managed.
"He is chaotic, Caleb. Absolute chaos wrapped in a very attractive himbo package," then she smiled softly. “Yet he stuck around with me during the darkest moment of my life.”
Caleb's laughter faded into something more contemplative as Zoey's expression softened. He saw something in her face then — a vulnerability, a gratitude, a quiet wonder that she'd found someone who stayed when the world felt like it was ending.
"You never really talked about... that period," he said, his voice low.
“Well, it’s not something I particularly like talking about,” she explained. “My friends and Abby mention it in passing, but don’t dwell on it.
“What happened, Zo?”
There was a pause.
“It had been two years since I dropped out of college,” she started. “My music career started to take off. I even helped write and produce my friend Rumi’s first full-length album. It felt so liberating to be able to do what I’ve always wanted to do for a long time. But then…”
“Then what?” he asked.
“My parents…” she trailed off. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell them. I tried but… well, I guess I was too pussy to tell them. I mean, how could I, especially when they sacrificed so much of me to get me to study in South Korea? And the guilt started eating away at me until I… shut down.”
Caleb listened quietly, his expression softening as Zoey spoke.
"So you shut down," he repeated, his voice gentle. "What did that look like?"
“Pretty bad. I had to cancel shows. I couldn’t even write a damn lyric without feeling like a fraud.”
"And Abby was there through all of that?" Caleb asked, his eyes never leaving her face.
She smiled. “Yeah. And all it took was him showing up outside my apartment building with a Bluetooth speaker blasting Gangnam Style and threatening to do the whole choreo in his boxers at ten in the evening.”
Caleb's jaw went slack for exactly three seconds before he burst out laughing—genuine, deep belly laughter that made the waitress glance over from the counter.
"No fucking way," he wheezed. "That's how he got you out of it? PHARRELL WILLIAMS STRATEGY!"
"Like I said, a chaos wrapped in a very attractive himbo package," Zoey repeated, but her smile was soft, fond.
Caleb chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, if that’s all it took, then he’s definitely a keeper.”
“Yeah,” Zoey agreed, her voice quiet as her cheeks tinted pink.
The waitress finally arrived with their food. She slid the overflowing plate of fries loaded with cheese cream and bacon bits in front of Zoey and placed Caleb’s buffalo chicken wrap and curly fries beside him. "Enjoy, guys," she said with a bright smile before bustling away.
“Thank you,” they both said before they dug in.