The Best Man | Part 20: The Morning of the Wedding (Patreon)

All characters depicted in this story are fictional and 18 years of age or older. Everything portrayed is safe, sane, and consensual.

The sunlight hit me like punishment. I groaned, dragging the pillow over my head, but it didn’t stop the heat pooling in my skin, the dull ache in my thighs, the ghost of Calvin’s hands still pressed into my hips.

For a second, I let myself lie there. My body was sore in places I hadn’t been sore in years. My lips felt swollen, my chest sticky, and my neck…God, my neck throbbed like someone had branded me in the night. Which wasn’t far from the truth.

I finally pushed the pillow away, blinked at the ceiling, and let it hit me all over again: today was the wedding.

I sat up slowly, the sheets sliding down my torso, and my heart clenched when I turned my head. Calvin was sprawled on his stomach, shirtless, hair a mess, one arm hanging lazily over the edge of the bed. He looked disgustingly satisfied.

The urge to throw the pillow at his head was strong. So was the urge to crawl back under the covers and run my mouth all over his bare back.

Instead, I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could, gathered my things, and walked to the bathroom.

The mirror was merciless.

I froze, leaning both palms on the sink. A deep red hickey bloomed across the side of my neck, low but not low enough. My stomach dropped.

“Shit.” I tilted my head, pressed my fingers over it, then yanked them away like it might burn me. It was huge. There was no way anyone at this wedding wouldn’t notice unless I figured something out.

I splashed water on my face, brushed my teeth, tried not to look at my own guilty expression. But the mark drew my eyes back every time. Like Calvin’s laugh, stamped into my skin. Like he’d wanted me to remember.

The bathroom door creaked.

I whipped around, towel still in my hand. Calvin leaned lazily against the frame, wearing his tight underwear, hair sticking up like he owned the morning.

His eyes flicked to my neck. His smirk spread slow, wicked.

“Well, well,” he drawled, voice still rough from sleep. “That mark looks hot on you.”

“Shut up,” I snapped, tugging my towel up like it might cover more than it did.

“Relax.” He stepped inside, not close enough to touch, but close enough to crowd me with his presence. “Makeup’ll cover it. Don’t worry, brother of the groom. You’ll survive.”

I glared at him, cheeks hot. “Do you realize what’ll happen if Nathan or anyone else sees this?”

Calvin just chuckled, low and smug, like he was enjoying every ounce of my panic. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have let me put it there.”

I hated how much my body reacted to his voice, hated how fast the memories of last night came rushing back; my mouth on him, his laugh, the way I’d nearly begged for more before sleep took me.

“I’m serious,” I muttered, pushing past him and back into the room.

He let me go. Of course he did. Teasing me was more fun._______________

By the time we were both dressed enough to look presentable, the suite was buzzing with noise. Nathan was up, tying his hair back as he fielded texts from vendors and Mom. Two of the groomsmen were already on the couch, scrolling through TikTok like it was just another Saturday morning.

“Coffee,” someone muttered, and within minutes, a hotel staffer was dropping off a tray piled with bagels, eggs, fruit, and what looked like an entire gallon of coffee.

I sank into a chair, clutching a mug like my life depended on it. The bitter burn was a small mercy…something to keep me grounded while the others bantered.

Nathan looked surprisingly calm for a guy getting married in a few hours. “Everything’s on schedule,” he announced, scrolling through his phone. “Photographer’s coming at eleven. Makeup artist at ten-thirty. Rings are accounted for. Tuxes are steamed.”

He looked at me next. “You good?”

I nearly choked on my coffee. “Yeah. Fine.”

Calvin, seated directly across from me, arched an eyebrow. He didn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was one wrong word away from blowing my cover.

I shot him a warning glare.

Ralph reached for the bagels. “So what’s the plan? We just… hang out until the photographer shows?”

“Pretty much,” Nathan said. “Eat, chill, don’t get drunk yet.”

Calvin clapped him on the shoulder, all Best Man confidence. “Don’t worry. I’ve got everything handled. You just relax, Ralph.”

And he did. That was the thing about Calvin…he could switch it on, turn from smug bastard to dependable best friend in a blink. He poured Nathan a coffee, cracked a joke about how half the wedding party would probably cry before the ceremony even started, and had everyone laughing.

Meanwhile, I sat there pretending to butter a bagel, trying not to squirm every time his foot brushed mine under the table.

The conversation drifted…sports, old college stories, the playlist for tonight’s dance floor. Nathan’s friends started reminiscing about spring break disasters, and the laughter grew louder.

I laughed too, because that’s what brothers do. But every time I tipped my head back, I swore I felt the throb of that damn hickey. Every time I glanced across the table, Calvin was there…relaxed, golden in the morning light, smirk twitching like he owned me.

I tried to tune him out. Tried to remind myself this day was about Nathan, not me, not Calvin, not the secret heat curling low in my stomach.

But when Calvin caught my eye mid-laugh, the world seemed to tilt for just a second. And I knew breakfast wasn’t going to be enough to get me through this day.

The breakfast lull lasted about half an hour before things shifted into motion. Nathan disappeared into the bathroom with his garment bag and a playlist of “hype music” that had us all laughing when we heard it blasting faintly through the door…everything from 2000s throwbacks to some ridiculous boy band tracks.

The photographer arrived not long after. A woman with boundless energy, she breezed in like she’d known us all for years, immediately rearranging furniture to get “the perfect light” for the groom prep shots.

“Okay, ties, cufflinks, jackets….don’t put anything on without me,” she said, already snapping candids as she spoke.

The room erupted into motion. Groomsmen scrambled for deodorant and cologne, shirts came half-buttoned, laughter burst out as Miquel realized he’d packed two left shoes. Calvin, of course, was calm, leaning against the dresser like he had all the time in the world, his tux jacket folded neatly over his arm.

And me? I hovered somewhere between useful brother and nervous wreck, trying not to tug at my collar too much.

“Here, Mase,” Nathan called, shoving a silk tie in my direction. “You’re good with knots, right? I’ll never get this thing.”

I took it, my hands steadier than I felt, and looped it around his neck. “Relax. It’s just a tie, not brain surgery.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but if this comes out crooked, Mom’s gonna have my head.”

The photographer circled us, capturing the moment like it was life or death. She adjusted Nathan’s shoulders, tilted his chin, then told us both to laugh. We did, and I felt my throat tighten a little at how happy he looked.

This was it. My big brother. About to be someone’s husband.

I glanced up….Calvin was watching us, a faint softness in his smirk, just for a second. Then it was gone._______________

The next hour blurred into a string of details: cufflinks polished, pocket squares folded, jackets buttoned, shoes shined. Calvin moved like he was born for this, tying three ties for panicked groomsmen, cracking jokes every time the photographer told us to “look natural.”

When Nathan’s boutonniere was pinned, we all raised our glasses…tiny pours of whiskey someone had smuggled in. Calvin lifted his glass first.

“To Nathan,” he said, voice carrying above the noise. “To love, to loyalty, and to not screwing up your vows. Cheers.”

The room echoed with cheers and laughter. We all knocked back the whiskey, and Nathan grinned so wide I thought his face might split.

“Seriously, though,” Calvin added, dropping his voice softer now. “You’re gonna kill it out there. You deserve this happiness, man.”

Nathan clapped him on the shoulder, and for once Calvin didn’t deflect with a joke. The sincerity hit me right in the chest.

By late morning, the prep slowed. Everyone was dressed, jackets hanging on chair backs to avoid wrinkles, nerves setting in. The groomsmen sprawled across the couch with their phones, half-watching a game on mute, half-scrolling. Nathan paced the suite, running his vows under his breath.

I sat by the window, watching the city shift outside, my coffee long gone. The weight of the day pressed heavy in my chest.

Calvin drifted over, hands in his pockets, lowering his voice so only I could hear. “Relax, Mase. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” I muttered.

“Uh-huh. Totally convincing.” His smirk returned, but there was an edge of gentleness to it. “You’re doing good. Just… breathe.”

I hated that he could read me like that. Hated more that his words worked, loosening the knot in my chest.

Nathan suddenly appeared at my side. “Hey.”

I looked up. “Yeah?”

“You good?” His brow furrowed, the same way it had when we were kids and I’d scraped my knee. “You’ve been quiet.”

I swallowed. “Just thinking. Big day.”

He exhaled, nodded. “Yeah. I am nervous as hell..” 

Nathan hugged me, fast and tight. My face pressed briefly against his shoulder, and when he pulled back, his eyes flicked down…straight to my neck.

“Still the rash?” he asked.

Panic shot through me.

“Oh…uh…yeah.” My hand shot up to cover it. “It’s still there.”

Nathan squinted, suspicious but distracted. “Huh. You should cover it properly before pictures.”

“Yeah. Definitely.” I forced a laugh, heart hammering.

Across the room, Calvin caught my eye, biting back a grin so smug I wanted to strangle him.

The suite quieted again as noon approached. Jackets went back on, ties straightened, shoes laced. The photographer lined us up near the window, snapping group shots as the city light spilled across our shoulders.

“Okay, serious face. Good. Now laugh! Perfect. Okay, brothers together…yes, like that. Great.”

Nathan slid an arm around me, pulling me close. “Don’t cry yet,” he whispered.

I laughed, but my eyes stung anyway._______________

When the photographer finally left, the suite emptied a little. Some of the groomsmen wandered off to smoke, others to call their girlfriends. Nathan sat with his vows again, muttering to himself.

And I found myself standing in the bathroom once more, staring at the mark on my throat. It looked even darker now, defiant against my skin.

Behind me, the door clicked open.

“Still worrying about it?” Calvin’s reflection appeared in the mirror, smirk sharp.

“Go away,” I hissed, tugging at my collar.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, voice low. “Relax, Mase. No one’s looking that close. And if they do…” He tilted his head, grin wicked. “…just tell ’em the truth.”

I spun to glare at him, but my pulse betrayed me, quick and hot.

This was supposed to be Nathan’s day.

But as Calvin’s eyes lingered on mine, I knew the real storm wasn’t over yet.The Best Man | Part 21: Wedding Day