by Lex Martin
“Hi guys,” the greeting leaves me and I swallow thickly, trying to shake off every nerve and just enjoy this trip, get to know Ali and have a good time.
I already feel guilty for being on this shopping trip, seeing as how I'm not really dating Charlie. No need to make it weird on top of that by being my… well, weird self. But they don’t know that.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am that you made it!”
“No problem!” I say, trying to make my voice sound upbeat.
“Let me make introductions before we go inside,” Ali announces with an excited flare and a quick clap of her hands. “This is Lindsay, Sam, and Ellie.”
She gestures to three women. Two of them are petite and blonde like Ali herself, and they’re dressed as preppy as J. Crew models. Ellie seems to be the odd one out, tall and thin, dark-haired and wearing an artsy, hot pink dress. Cheryl isn’t coming, but she’s the last bridesmaid. She texted in the group message that she hadn’t slept at all with Evie being up all night.
Altogether, they seem really nice and they’re warm to me. So, it’s off to a good start!
“Hi,” I say. “It’s nice to meet y’all.”
“Ladies, this is Grace. She’s dating Charlie.”
I note the looks of total surprise on all three of their faces, followed by a look on Lindsay’s face like she smelled something rotten. I assume that look isn’t directed at me, but I still saw it.
I guess Diane isn’t the only one to have the hots for Charlie.
RIP that good start. At least it lasted a second.
Sam and Ellie say hello, but Lindsay just gives me a tight smile. Luckily, Ali is too caught up in starting the dress shopping to notice. My heart races and the nerves build up even more as she ushers everyone toward the store.
“Come on! Let’s go in!” Ali leads the pack, which now I’m a part of.
The window display sports a lady mannequin dressed in what I assume is the height of bridal couture. The dress is white satin, tightly fitted and turned to the side to showcase the low-cut back.
It makes me wonder what kind of dress Ali is looking for, exactly. I don’t know a darn thing about her really or about the wedding.
The second we’re inside, I pause, waiting for someone to tell us where to go, but we’re ushered back and then father back; Ali knows just where to go and doesn’t wait for anyone. There’s a single podium along the back wall, empty at the moment, and a curved wall that blocks the rest of the store from sight. All the decor is colored in shades of white, cream and pastel pink.
“Hello, hello,” a woman appears from a side door right on cue. She speaks clearly, but with a Parisian accent. “You’re here for Alianna?” Her elegant demeanor, graying hair and thin frame fit in with the store. This woman looks like she owns the place.
“Yes! That’s me,” Ali raises her hand while practically shaking with excitement. She’s freaking adorable. It warms my heart to see her happiness on such obvious display.
“Bien. I’m Monique, the owner. Let me get you ladies set up.” There’s a large round pink ottoman to sit on, two stuffed chairs, and a throne. Like an actual throne. I take it that’s going to be for the bride-to-be.
To our left, there’s a floor to ceiling three-way mirror with a low pedestal in the middle. Ali looks at the pedestal nervously.
“You sit here,” Monique says to Ali, gesturing to the throne. “And the rest of you, sit where you like.”
Ali glances at us, her perfect smile never dimming, then goes to sit on the gilded throne. After a minute of being left to our own devices as Monique runs to the back room she came from to grab a client form, Ali grins even wider, I don’t know how that’s possible. Lindsay and Sam take the two chairs, leaving Ellie and me to sit on the ottoman.
“All right,” Monique announces as she enters again with a clipboard and pen. Her English is perfect, though her accent is heavy and honestly adds to the romanticism. “What are we looking for, Miss Alianna?”
Ali turns a pretty shade of pink. “Okay, I already have the reception dress.” Her confidence growing as she talks. “My wedding is in a week, and I need a second dress for the ceremony. I wasn’t going to do two dresses, but my ma wants something more traditional even though it’s a smaller, more casual wedding.” I almost laugh at Ali’s answer. Charlie told me how his mom has been very opinionated with Ali’s dress. I guess she finally gave in one full week before the deadline. She's cutting it close.
“Okay. Tell me what this ideal dress looks like.”
“Umm, I brought some pictures…” Ali answers, digging through her purse all the while. The entire place is as quiet as a mouse as we wait. “Here. I made an album of the dresses that I like from the bridal magazines… and the ones my mother liked too.”
“Ah!” Monique nods, reaching out. “Let’s see.”
She takes the stack of photos from Ali and sifts through them. She's quiet for a long time, taking the measure of each picture fully. I wish it wasn’t so quiet, it makes me pick at a non-existent piece of lint as my insecurities rise. I don’t want to ruin this for Ali. I don’t want her to look back on this day and wish I hadn’t been there.
“Do you think you’ll be able to help us?” Sam asks, fidgety. “She waited until the last minute,” she adds, giving Ali a face which only makes Ali give her a face back.
“Of course,” Monique responds, very seriously. “I have dresses on hand that will need to be altered, but I promise you, love,” she turns her attention from the photos to Ali, “you will fall in love with one of them and so will your mother.” The beam of a smile Ali returns and glistening of her eyes forces a wide smile from me too.
“Oh,” Sam responds, with a clap not unlike the one Ali had before introductions outside. “Well, alright!”
“Come, come. Let us get you started,” Monique says with a smile of her own. “The fitting room is right here. Marcus will be in with some champagne shortly.” I don’t know who Marcus is, but I could use that champagne. So at the moment, he is my hero in the making.
Ali beams, following Monique to an area behind a heavy pink brocade curtain and leaving us alone. The second, Ali’s gone I catch Lindsay looking at me, then she rolls her eyes and leans over to whisper to Sam. My body temperature drops as I look at Ellie, who gives me a sympathetic smile.
“I don’t know much about wedding dress shopping,” I say, fumbling for something to break the ice.
“Oh, me neither. My sister came here for her wedding dress, though,” Ellie talks to me easily. She runs her hand over her dark hair, which is up in a messy bun. “It’s nice. Monique is something else.”
“Yes this place is beautiful,” I agree.
A door opens on the far side of the room, and an older man comes in with a tray of glasses and a bottle of champagne. Oh, thank goodness. He doesn’t say much other than polite necessities. He simply pours the champagne into flutes and passes them out.
“Thank you,” I tell him, accepting the champagne gratefully. It’s sweet, and the bubbles tickle my tongue.
“Mmmm,” Ellie says. “Thank God for alcohol.”
“Yes, I was looking forward to this,” I say with a shrug to make my words seem casual. “So how do you know Ali?”
“Ali was my roommate during our first couple of years of college,” Ellie says.
“Ahh. I was wondering how you knew each other.”
Ellie smiles and sips her champagne. Before I'm forced to think of something else to say, Ali makes her first appearance.
She’s stunning, wearing a silky number that has a strappy back, a simple front, and clings to her hips. Oh my goodness. She’s a sight to see.
“Oooh, champagne!” she says, rushing to pick up her glass from where Marcus left the tray.
Her sip of champagne comes first and then she makes her way to the mirror, the dress gliding flawlessly. Without even standing on the pedestal, she pans the dress.
“Mmmm, no,” she says. “Monique is bringing more options. I just can�
��t see meeting at the altar in this... the straps remind me of like… bondage.”
I laugh, a soft feminine laugh. “If you say so. I think you look beautiful.”
“It’s beautiful,” Lindsay says. “Bondage or not.”
Ali sweeps over to the ottoman, perching beside me.
“I know all about these bitches,” she says, leaning closer to me. “But nothing about you, Grace. Tell me about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?” The small bit of tension that left with Ali’s joke comes back full force.
“I don’t know. Where did you grow up?”
“Here. I’m an Atlanta baby.”
“And your family? Big, small?” She asks another easy question.
“Small family. It’s just myself and my younger sister, besides my mom.”
“Did you go to college?” Ellie asks.
“I did. I went to Brenau University for one year, then I finished my degree at Rhode Island School of Design. I’m a graphic designer now.”
“You went to RISD?” Lindsay questions from across the room, disbelieving.
“Yeah?” I answer, uncertain. “I studied watercolor and oil painting along with graphic design.”
“I went to Savannah College of Art and Design,” she says. “I’m an interior designer.”
“Oh! That’s really cool,” I say. Small world.
“She’s also Charlie’s ex-girlfriend,” Sam announces, crossing her arms and one perfectly penciled eyebrow lifting.
Ali laughs in a way that shuts down Sam’s comment. “No, she wanted to be Charlie’s girlfriend. There’s a huge difference.”
I bite my lip, I am really not into this ex-girlfriend, current girlfriend animosity. Ali doesn’t seem to catch on to it. Which is good, since this is her day. Marcus was my hero before, this time it’s Monique. She pokes her head in to call Ali back. “Alianna, my dear. I have three more dresses for you to try on.”
“I’ll be back,” Ali says, winking to me. “Try not to get into any catfights.” The last comment is directed at Lindsay. Maybe Ali did catch on to it.
Without Ali here, the air is somewhat different. Although Ellie asks Sam about some promotion she was wanting to get. Sam didn’t hear back yet, but I tell her I hope she gets it. It’s only small talk, polite and fairly easy. I don’t make eye contact with Charlie’s supposed ex though.
It’s far too long before Ali makes her way back to us in a new gown, and I deliberately don’t look up. I’ll just sip my champagne, smile and ooh and ahh when I’m supposed to. Or at least I’ll try to.
Ali’s hips sway as she walks to the mirror. This one is pretty, but not as formal as the other one. It's sleeveless, dark cream lace with a cutout in the back. Ali’s face falls when she sees her reflection in the mirror.
Ali makes her way to the pedestal, turning this way and that. She faces us again. “What do you think?”
“Pretty,” Sam pipes up.
“Yeah, pretty,” Ellie says, nodding her head as her eyes travel up and down the gown.
“Not pretty enough, though,” Lindsay admits. Ali nods, subtly, but still looks to me for my opinion.
“I think I agree,” I say. “But it is pretty,” I add with a peppy voice just in case she likes it and I was wrong about the facial cues.
“Yeah,” Ali agrees, shoulders slumping. “All right. Cheer me up with some more details about yourself. Tell us how you met Charlie.”
“Oh, yeah!” Ellie says. “How’d you meet that hunk of man candy?” Her question forces a grin on my face. When the other girls look at her funny, she shrugs. “What? I can’t think that Ali’s brother is hot?”
The room fills with snickers.
“Okay,” I say, returning my attention back to Ali. “Charlie and I met because my friend Diane told me about his bar. She took me there for a drink, and one thing led to another…”
I leave it open-ended, hoping that their imaginations will be better than mine.
“When are you going to officially be his girlfriend?” Lindsay asks pointedly.
Her question is like a bucket of ice water to the face and I’m sure my expression reflects that. I’m quick to fix it, smiling back at her and shrugging. Before I can manage a response, Ali steps in.
“Charlie said she was. So she is.”
“Did he?” her friend questions and even if this conversation wasn’t about me, my jaw would still hit the floor. Why would she ruin her friend’s big day?
“Jesus, Lindsay,” Ali says, getting up. “You really are no fun when it comes to Charlie, you know that?”
“Sorry,” Lindsay mumbles and to her credit she does appear remorseful.
With a disapproving look and a huff, Ali disappears into the changing room again before I have to answer. I should try for diplomacy with Lindsay. After all, I’m the one who’s full of crap. I know Charlie doesn’t want me to really be his girlfriend. If I wasn’t in the way, Lindsay could be putting the moves on Charlie. She could be winning his heart, for all I know.
The idea of the pretty little blonde with big handsome Charlie makes me nauseated, but I choke it down, and wash the bad taste out of my mouth with another gulp of champagne. I’m going to play nice with Lindsay.
“I just started dating Charlie,” I tell her waving off the tension. “It’s barely even a thing.”
“Yeah?” she says, looking surprised.
“Yeah, totally. Like, we haven’t had any talk about exclusivity or babies or marriage. We’ve only just started seeing each other.” I bite my tongue as soon as I say that. Charlie probably won’t appreciate that I've given Lindsay license to kill where he’s concerned. It’s true though. What’s the saying? The truth hurts.
Another gulp of champagne it is.
“Wow. Well… okay,” she says, some of her gloom lifting. Although she’s now smiling, my heart hurts and I wish I hadn’t said that. But I can’t take it back now.
I should have said, I really like him and he really likes me. And left it at that.
When Ali arrives again, she makes an entrance. The way she looks in the third dress knocks the breath right out of me. The dress is pure white, with delicate lace straps, lacy cups, and a full skirt. She turns, and the back has a row of tiny white buttons.
There’s a collective gasp in the room. She climbs up on the pedestal, straightening her skirts and looks at us in the mirror.
“Y’all,” she takes a minute to sway and then says, “I think I found my dress.”
“Yay!” Ellie and I clap in unison.
“That is definitely the one,” Lindsay affirms, her expression finally resembling happiness for her friend.
“No kidding,” Sam says, getting misty-eyed. “You're a gorgeous bride.”
“And look!” Ali says, pulling up her skirts to reveal a pair of cowboy boots. “We’re all going to wear these under our dresses.” I can’t help but smile. “Cute, don’t you think?” she asks.
“Definitely,” Sam nods in agreement.
“You and Charlie can knock boots. Literally,” Ali says devilishly.
I blush. “Yeah… maybe.”
I laugh, and the other girls smile. Marcus appears to refill our champagne glasses, and I absently empty my glass before he gets to mine, wondering what Charlie would say to that.
Charlie
“So your sister’s friend Lindsay has the hots for you,” Grace lowers her voice to tell me something I already know, leaning against the bar top and taking a small swig of beer. It’s late. Really late for her to be out, but I’m glad she’s still here. The bar’s nearly empty, and closing time is minutes away. Maggie and the others have already left. The drone of the television and one other person are the only things accompanying us. I can’t wait to get her alone. Mickey needs to take the hint and get the fuck out of here, but he always stays till I close. I get why he doesn’t want to leave though, and so I’m not going to kick him out. He just doesn’t want to go home where he’s going to be alone and miss his wife.
“Oh she does?” I tease Grace with an asymmetric grin. “I don’t really care; I’ve got the hots for you.” I almost said only for you, but I’m careful with my words. I want Grace, but I don’t want to lead her on. She’s made it clear what she wants. I respect that, but I’m a little too addicted to her writhing under me to let her go just yet. Besides the wedding’s only a couple of days away. She’s all mine till then.
She holds my gaze as she tips her beer back. The baby blues looking for something more from me.
“Come on sweetheart, tell me you’ve got the hots for me.” As I flirt with her, Mickey gets up from his seat and yells out, “Alright, I’m gone.” He grabs the remote as if he’s at a friend’s house, turns off the TV, and tosses it onto the table where it belongs as he walks out.
“Drive safe,” I call out to him, leaving my spot at the bar to follow him out and he turns around stopping me with a gesture. He glances at Grace behind me and gives me a look.
“You two have a good night.”
A smile curves my lips up as I follow him to the door and open it for him.
The second I lock the door I turn around to see a heat in Grace’s gaze. My dick's already hardening watching the way she shifts shyly on the barstool. I love the blush on her. It’s only for me.
“Last time I had you in the back room,” I lower my voice as I stalk my way to her. “This time I want you on the bar top.” Her eyes widen, and her breath hitches, her chest rising higher and falling with her heavy intakes.
“Right here?” she asks, splaying her hands across the bar behind her without breaking our gaze. The way she leans back makes her breasts push forward. She’s doing it on purpose and I love it.
“Right fucking there. So every day I come in here I can remember how your back bowed as I fucked you on my bar,” I breathe the words into the crook of her neck.
I let my fingers trail down her sides, watching as goosebumps form down her arms. She’s so responsive. I leave an open-mouth kiss just behind her ear, on that sensitive part of her neck and she moans softly in response, almost a whimper.
My fingers dig into the dip in her waist and I wait for her to open her eyes. When she does, her baby blues shine with lust. “Get your ass up here and get naked for me.”