Jon winced as he put his car in park. 12.15. The invitation had asked everyone to be seated by midday. I can only hope the bride plans on being fashionably late, he thought. He quickly checked his tie, not bothering about his hair, and jumped out of the car, pacing quickly towards the lawns of the Blossom Country Club.

Rick will understand, he thought to himself. Rick was one of his oldest, most loyal friends. He didn't have many left; the thing about friendships is you generally need to see people to maintain them. He'd been on the road with the indies since his early twenties, and since signing with the WWE, was hardly in one place long enough to catch up anyone. But Rick was different. They went back a long way, and he always understood the manic pace of Jon's life. Rick had supported him when times had been tough, and they spoke and texted regularly. Even though it had caused some disgruntlement with the company, Jon wouldn't miss today for the world. Rick was marrying the girl of his dreams, Samantha, and Jon wanted to be there. His flight from Charlotte had been slightly delayed but he had made it. He slipped into a chair in the second to last row, and his movement caught Rick's eye. They exchanged eyebrow raises before Rick mocked Jon's tie. Jon smiled at the rib, before taking in the scene. It was Hollywood perfect: a spring wedding under the blooming blossom trees. An arch with pink and peach flowers strategically placed around it, symmetrical rows of chairs either side of the aisle, each with a pink or peach bow. Must've been planned by a chick, Jon thought. Even Rick and his two brothers were matching perfection in their pressed grey suits, white shirts with a peach flower on their lapels. He chuckled to himself quietly, knowing Rick would've begrudgingly agreed to the flower. Hell hath no fury like a woman planning her wedding...

The beginning strains of a violin pierced the air, and the guests all stood. Jon joined them, after a quick glance at Rick, wiping his hands on his trousers. He's nervous as hell, Jon could tell, and was glad to see Tom, in his role as best man and big brother, place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Jon turned to see a little girl, dressed in a small white dress, shyly walking down the aisle. He recognised her as Rick's niece Alice. She must be four years old, why are they dressing her like a bride? he thought, before checking himself. Just because you're not sold on getting married, don't criticize others. The kid looks cute. Alice made it to the end of the aisle, and got a high five from her Uncle Rick, before standing shyly behind Tom's leg.

A bridesmaid was next; an average looking brunette in a baby pink dress, holding peach flowers. She had an overly enthusiastic smile on her face and seemed to walk quickly. Jon laughed at the pause before the next sign of movement. There was obviously a walking cue. The next girl was walking slower, he could see out of the corner of his eye, her dress and flowers matching the previous woman's. Her pace allowed Jon time to glance around, trying to spot guests he recognised from his school days. More accurately, guests he wanted to avoid. As he turned back, the bridesmaid had just walked past him. The short glimpse he saw of the side of her made him lean sideways for another look. Hang on. Surely not. From the back, he couldn't confirm or deny his query. Her auburn hair was pulled away from her face, with loose curls falling down her shoulders and back. He watched her arrive at the end of the aisle, where Rick gave her a big smile. The woman stepped into formation beside the previous bridesmaid, and turned to face the guests. As she did so, Jon felt some of the air escape his lungs. There was no denying it. She hadn't changed one bit. Amber.

Jon didn't even notice other guests turn back to await the bride, nor did he look at Samantha when she passed him. His eyes were fixed on Amber.

"Hey, Jonny, someone's dropped some eggs down the back. By the pet food. Can you get to cleaning that up?"

Jon rolled his eyes. This was so not where he wanted to be right now. "Sure," he said, keeping his tone as level as possible. "It's Jon, by the way." His duty manager, Evan, looked at him blankly. "What'd I say?" There's no point, Jon thought, heading out back to fetch the mop and bucket. He'd been working shifts at the local grocery store for three weeks and Evan wouldn't drop the Jonny thing. He'd never called himself that, so it pissed him off that Evan was making it a thing.

He headed to the back of the store where the spill was, and began mopping. Each time he ran the mop through the strainer bucket, he pictured himself pulling on the long hair of an opponent. He tried to envision the mopping motion as building muscle in his arms, all the better to apply chin locks with. Everything he did, he tied back to wrestling. That was the reason why he was here. School no longer interested him; he wanted to be training full time. But with 18 still ten months away, he had to take what he could get. He was working at shows, selling popcorn and merchandise, anything he could get his hands on. The grocery store was an income stream only; he was saving his money to pay for full time wrestling training. He had it all planned out. Training for a couple of years, touring the independent circuit, some overseas promotion work, then signing with the WWE. He was going to make it. He knew it. He just needed to make it through this shift without hurting anyone.

"Excuse me, Jonny?"
Jon growled internally. He looked up to see an old lady standing before him, beside the ginger girl from the front counter he'd not spoken to since he started. "I was wondering if you could please help Mrs Hill carry her sacks of potatoes to her car please? She would like three of them so we will need to default to someone with a bit more upper body strength." Both the girl and Mrs Hill giggled, while Jon stood, holding the mop, staring blankly. He'd only worked one other shift with this girl, and she felt like she could demand him to do something that wasn't his job? "Yeah, sure," he replied snarkily. He didn't overly want to, but he didn't want to be cleaning egg yolk off the floor either. "Oh thank you dear," Mrs Hill replied. "I don't have the strength I used to." Looking her up and down, he wondered how something so frail could have ever been strong. He leaned the mop against the wall and followed them towards the counter.

I should've known better, Jon thought to himself. He'd been stuck talking to Mrs Hill for almost ten minutes in the parking lot. Rather, he'd been stuck listening to Mrs Hill for almost ten minutes. She obviously wasn't very good at reading body language. He hardly said a word and stood with his arms crossed angrily while she raved on about how much her grandchildren liked potatoes. It was only a few drops of rain which finally shut her up, and Jon contemplated not going back into the store. But, he needed the money.

He returned to the back of the store to finish cleaning up, but found the floor to be clear, with a warning sign up to avoid slips. He looked around and saw the counter girl emerge from out back. When she noticed him, she walked towards him. "Oh Jonny, thanks so much for that. She's a good customer, a regular," she said, smiling at him. He raised his eyebrows in an attempt to communicate that it was no big deal; he just wouldn't want to do it again. What happened to the eggs? he wondered. Why would she help me? "Did you finish up here?" he asked, motioning towards the floor. "Yeah," she shrugged. "There was no one else in the store, and I figured she might keep you a while. Do you know all the names of her grandchildren now?" She chuckled, only to herself. "There's Caleb and Victoria, and Stephanie and Piper..." Her voice was sarcastic and the grin on her face showed that she was making fun of herself for having to listen regularly. Maybe I should be pleased I only had to deal with her once, Jon thought. "Anyway, I better get back before people think there's no one on the counter and they can walk out the door without paying for things." She talks too much. "Thanks for your help, Jonny," she said, smiling sweetly before walking away up the cookie aisle. "It's Jon," he muttered. "Huh?" She was back beside him with an inquisitive look on her face. He rolled his eyes. "It's Jon, not Jonny. We have name badges, Amber," he said, looking down at hers for emphasis. He saw her eyes drop to his chest, verifying his name. "So it is," she said, turning back towards the counter.

Jon wasn't paying much attention to the celebrant's words. He heard her welcome everyone, and say something about sharing in Rick and Sam's happiness, but he wasn't focusing. He was doing some quick calculations in his head. It had to be at least ten years since he'd seen her. And he'd know her anywhere. He'd spent hours studying her face, the shape of her as he'd held her while she slept. Subconsciously he'd committed her to memory, which had been both a good and bad thing in the subsequent years. He had his eyes locked on her; she was listening intently to the celebrant, dutifully holding Sam's flowers. It was only as the guests were asked to bow their heads in prayer that she began to look around. A smirk crossed Jon's face. Neither of them were religious. Amber pretended to lower her head, then looked at the faces in front of her, slowly moving her eyes move towards the back. As she scanned from one side of the aisle to the other, her eyes fell on Jon. She blinked softly, the corners of her mouth turning upwards in a smile. Jon felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Before he knew it, the prayer was over, and Amber's eyes were back facing the bride and groom. He couldn't shake the goosebumps on his arms. They had been through so much together, but now they were completely separate people. Still, Amber didn't look as surprised to see him as he had been to see her. Maybe she didn't actually recognize me? Maybe she couldn't see who she was grinning at? He spent the rest of the ceremony staring at her, except for when Rick and Sam kissed to seal the deal. He cheered and clapped along with everyone else, and as the bridal party walked down the aisle, Amber with her arm linked through Tom's, he swore he noticed her eyes flick his way as she passed.

He had to talk to her.