Ceremonials

Chapter 1: Only if for a night

'Will, it's...' Layla paused, glancing at the clock, '...not really that late. Has Warren's bachelor party ended already?'

Clenching the phone between her shoulder and ear, she placed the last plate in the dishwasher and tapped it shut with her hip.

'No. Can I come over?'

'Sure,' she answered, ending the call. The doorbell rang immediately. Puzzled, Layla moved the curtain and looked outside. Will was standing on the doorstep holding a huge bottle of something. She smiled. When she opened the door to let him in, her smile faded. Will smelled as if he'd taken a dip in a pool of cheap beer.

'It's your last night as a free woman. Let's celebrate,' he shouted, holding the bottle up so that she could read the label. Layla had no idea why he was doing that. It was not designer champagne; not that either of them cared about that. She suspected – judging by the size of the bottle – that it was one of those champagne brands people use at sporting matches to squirt foam all over the winner. That was oddly sexual, now that she thought about it.

'Come in,' she urged, standing aside. She offered him her arm, but Will rejected it. His brusqueness was completely out of character, but Layla attributed it to the alcohol. When he then proceeded to almost trip over the carpet, she blamed that on the alcohol too. Will regained his balance just in time.

'I'm fine, I'm fine,' he mumbled. He stood in the hallway for a couple of seconds. Completely still with a confused expression on his face. He's forgotten where he is, Layla thought. It was maybe too generous a guess. The look in Will's eyes seemed to indicate that he'd forgotten who he was. It would have been funny if she hadn't needed him to be able to perform his best man duties tomorrow.

'Warren is not going to be happy when you show up to the wedding hung over,' she remarked. It was meant as a slight rebuke; a way of getting Will to accept her arm. She would have to escort him to the kitchen. It was clear that he was not going to make it on his own.

'Why am I Warren's best man? I like the guy well enough, but he's not my friend. You're my friend,' Will protested. His speech was fairly coherent for someone swaying on his feet. He sounded indignant. On the verge of anger. It was a little late to change things now, so Layla opted to ignore most of his comment.

'Why didn't you say something? You could have come to my party,' she suggested. As if that would have solved anything. Sure, it would have solved the problem of Will's drunkenness right now, since Layla's party had taken place a couple of weeks ago.

'And sit there surrounded by women?' he whined. Layla nodded, feigning sympathy and slipping an arm around his shoulder. She gently tried to steer him towards the kitchen – a place with tiles and lots of water: it was perfect for drunks! – but Will had other plans. He made a beeline for the couch. Sighing, Layla followed.

Will plonked down on the couch. He hoisted the booze onto the pillow to his left. Layla sat down besides the massive champagne bottle. Suddenly, Will looked sort of defeated. His rapidly changing emotions were exhausting to witness. It's like the five stages of grief, except in Will's case it's the five stages of plastered, Layla realised.

They sat on the couch for a while without talking. Layla wasn't sure where Will's head was at now. His hair was obscuring his face and his breathing was shallow. He could be asleep for all she knew.

'You know what's weird? I always thought I'd marry you,' she confessed, quietly. She'd had it all figured out down to the seating arrangements.

'I always thought you'd marry me too,' Will whispered. He looked so sad.

'Aw, Will. You'll find someone,' Layla reassured him. Will continued to look sad. It was heartbreaking. Another thing it was: ridiculous. Will dated a lot. The sheer number of women he dated meant that he was bound to eventually meet someone he liked. That was just basic math.

Still, Layla couldn't bear to see her best friend like that. She hauled the bottle out of the way and put it on the floor. Next, she took Will's face into her hands and kissed him. It was meant to be a friendly peck – and a clumsy one at that – but nothing that night went as it was supposed to go, so it wasn't a peck. That wasn't Layla's fault, though. It was Will kissing her back that turned it from a peck into a kiss.

She didn't stop him at first, because she was surprised at how deeply and passionately he kissed her. Also, she thought that he'd stop soon enough. After all, he was only kissing her because he was drunk. Layla didn't want him to feel worse than he already did. She didn't want to make this any more awkward than it already was. But Will didn't stop. He just kept on kissing her.