“We weren’t supposed to drink in there, of course. That’s why they took it away.” Anne, Amy’s mum, rolls her eyes and motions with her head towards her own mother, clearly indicating who is to blame.
Peggy leans in closer, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she talks directly to Lucie, “I also had a Brazilian.”
I look at my feet and try not to think about it or show my horror at the thought of her eighty-something-year-old lady bits being waxed.
“A Brazilian and then you went in a spa bath? Won’t you get, like”—Lucie scrunches her nose and waves her hand at her crotch—“a rash or some sort of reaction?”
Peggy dismissively waves her hand and looks at her over the top of her glass. “Oh no, dear, not a wax. My masseuse was Brazilian. Antonio he was called.” She fans her face and sends Lucie a conspiratorial wink. “Twenty-four. Hands like the devil. Bum like a—”
“Mum! Will you behave?!” Anne cuts her off.
“Oh my God. You’re the best!” Lucie bursts out laughing. It’s loud and free, and I can’t help but laugh along with her even though I’m dying inside.
Anne clicks her tongue. “Don’t encourage her.”
I smile at the exchange; Lucie is still shaking with laughter under my arm.
“Lucie and I should probably get going. We just ordered room service, so don’t want to miss it. I’ll see you both at the party in a bit. Can’t wait to see your outfits!” I smile sweetly, sending them a wave as I guide Lucie away.
“You’ll save me a dance tomorrow night at the wedding, Theo?” Peggy calls as we walk away.
I turn back and nod. “Of course. I think it’s my duty as best man to dance with both of you actually.”
Lucie sets her free hand on my stomach, and the warmth of it seeps into my skin through my T-shirt. “That’s if I let him go, of course. I might have to fight you a little bit.” Lucie playfully raises her eyebrows at Peggy, and I send her a grateful smile.
Anne chuckles. “Oh, you’d likely lose against my mum.”
“I think you’re probably right,” Lucie agrees good-naturedly. Her smile is radiant.
“See you in a bit.” I send them both a wink. I know I’m not helping myself, but I genuinely do really like them both; they’re great.
When we step into the lift and the doors close, I huff out a breath and look at the ceiling. “Thanks, Luce. I owe you.”
She grins and steps out from under my arm. I hate that I miss the contact already.
“You owe me big. Was she one of the reasons why you needed a date so desperately that you were willing to bring along a virtual stranger under offer of an all-inclusive weekend bender?”
“One of them, yes.” No point in lying.
She chuckles, and I pull out my phone.
“I’m gonna call Tim. I need to pick up my outfit for tonight. It wouldn’t fit in a suitcase, so they offered to bring it with them, seeing as he and Heather drove up yesterday instead of flying.”
Lucie nods and chews on her nail as I quickly talk to Tim and arrange to make a quick stop at their door to pick up my excess luggage.
By the time we get to our room, me carrying my box and grinning like a fool, the waiter is literally just coming out of the lift with our ordered food.
Lucie plops on the bed, digging into her pizza, so I sit on the opposite side and take a large bite from my wrap.
“So, are all the wedding guests going to be at this party tonight? Is this in place of a hen and stag night?”
I shake my head. “No, we had those last weekend. I think this is more like a pre-wedding get-together for everyone else, a kind of thank-you for travelling so far. Only close family and friends arrived on Thursday, but tonight, everyone else should be here.”
“How many people are coming to the wedding?”
I watch as Lucie gets a string of cheese stuck to her chin, and she sheepishly pulls it off. It’s too cute. “Um, I think Jared said there are about eighty people in total. Friends, family, work colleagues of both Jared’s and Amy’s. Though mostly, the work friends are Amy’s. Not many people like Jared at his work, apparently.”
Lucie frowns. “Why not? He seems so lovely.”
“No idea.” That’s a lie. I do have an idea.
Anyone who has ever tried to plan anything near Jared and has had him take over everything knows the reason. He’s basically an evil dictator in disguise, a stickler for details. I’d hate to work for him; in fact, if he were my boss, I’d secretly put laxatives in his morning coffee and rub his favourite pen across my nutsack at every given opportunity. His superiors probably love him though; he’s the type of dependable, proactive, hardworking perfectionist who bosses jizz their pants over.
“Poor Jared.” Lucie pouts and frowns.
“He’ll get over it. He likely gives exactly zero shits what they think of him.”
She nods, picking at her pizza. “You know, when you texted me the itinerary for the weekend, I was wondering why on earth someone would choose a fancy-dress theme for a party. But now that I’ve met Amy, I get it. It makes total sense.”
I grin and nod. “Right?”
Lucie’s lips purse as she looks up at me. “She’s so great. I can see why you like her.”
My breath catches, and I clear my throat awkwardly. “Er … yeah.”
“So, what are you going as tonight?” She inquisitively eyes my cardboard box. “Can I see?”
I nod and wipe my fingers, pushing my empty plate onto the side as I pull the box closer to me and peel off the tape. Lucie leans over, and we both peer in at the vibrant green, blue, and red inside the box. When she doesn’t get it, I stand and pull the outfit from the box, holding it up against my body.
As she realises what it is, she bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, that’s bloody brilliant! I love it.”
I look down at the outfit and grin. It took me forever to choose what I wanted. After six weekends of trudging around all the cosplay shops I could find within driving distance (and several failed online orders that were subpar), I finally found the perfect outfit. It’s Mario riding Yoshi. The top half of my body is Mario’s red T-shirt and blue dungarees. There are fake padded Mario legs that start at my hips. Then, around my middle, there is a large stuffed Yoshi head and body, complete with big, wide eyes and tiny, padded arms. Mario’s fake legs hang over Yoshi’s sides, so it looks like he’s riding him. My legs are green and are supposed to be Yoshi’s. I even have Mario’s hat and a fake moustache to complete the outfit. It’s pretty damn genius, even if I do say so myself.
Folding it up carefully, I put it back in the box and cock my head. “Let’s see yours. Who are you going as?”
“Uh, no, you can have a surprise.”
I shrug in acceptance. I like surprises. I can wait. Silently, I wish we’d conferred and gone as a couple, maybe Bonnie and Clyde, or Han Solo and Leia; that would have been amazing.
“Fair enough. Were you running around, frantic to find a hire shop after I texted you Monday night with the itinerary?” I wince apologetically.
I definitely sprang it on her and purposefully didn’t tell her until after she agreed and I booked her flight. Less chance of back-outs then!
She shakes her head. “Actually, no. Surprisingly, I already had a costume. For my twenty-first birthday, I had a girls’ night, fancy-dress-themed bar crawl. I only wore it the once and then leant it to my best friend, Aubrey, for her work’s Halloween party one year. She just kept it at her place after that because I had no use for it. Luckily, it was hanging in the back of her wardrobe. I just hope it still fits.” She winces and looks down at her body. “Maybe I should have tried it on before bringing it. I’ve, um, filled out a little since I was twenty-one. That’s probably the politest way of saying that my tits and arse are bigger now.”
At the casual mention of them, I fight with everything in me not to let my eyes drop down to said tits and arse. “And likely better …”
She chuckles and shrugs one shoulde
r. “Well, you’re a man, so obviously, you think that. All men like a bit of T and A.”
“Solid fact.” I nod in agreement and hold up a hand for a high five.
Her blush is adorable as she slaps her palm against mine. “I should really start getting ready. Do you need help packing up your stuff? If not, I’m going to hop in the shower.” She stands and scrunches up her napkin, pushing her plate onto the side as she looks at me hopefully.
“You go in the shower. I’ll pack up and then head next door to my room. I’ll call back for you at seven thirty, and we’ll go downstairs to the function room.”
She nods and throws me a smile as she heads into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
It takes me less than a couple of minutes to gather my stuff and leave her in peace. Once in my room next door, I flop on the bed and flick on the TV. There’s still a little over an hour left to go before we’re due to meet up. It won’t take me long to get ready. I’m going to forgo the shave again—screw it, stubble is on trend right now. I’ll fix it tomorrow before the wedding. Basically, just a shower and change of clothes—twenty minutes, tops.
Sometimes, I love being a man.
My outfit is epic. I’m grinning like a moron as I look at myself in the full-length mirror. It was worth the hours of searching to find the perfect costume. Mine is undoubtedly going to be the best costume of the night. I might even get a prize. Hopefully, Amy’s doing prizes.
At precisely seven thirty, I’m so excited to see what Lucie’s wearing that I practically skip to her door and knock.
“Theo, I’m not quite ready!” she calls from inside. “I don’t want to make you late to the party. Shall I meet you down there in a few minutes?”
I frown at the door. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just taking me longer than I thought to get ready. I’m sorry. I won’t be long though. You go and get us a round in, and I’ll see you in a bit.”
I step closer to the door in case people can hear me and close my eyes. “Luce, you’re not going to stand me up, are you? The deal we made was for the Friday night party and the wedding …” I hold my breath and wait.
Screw the deal. I just want to spend some more time with her. If she doesn’t come tonight, I’ll be gutted. The more time I spend with her, the more I like her.
I hear her laugh before she calls back, “I remember the deal, Theo. I’ll be there in a few, I promise. I’m just finishing up with my hair. I’m almost done. Ten minutes, tops. I’ll see you down there.”
Happier now after her reassurances, I smile and step back, brushing a piece of lint from Yoshi’s stuffed head. “Okay. See you in a bit then.”
As I’m about to step into the lift, I remember I didn’t pick up my phone. I left it on charge in my room. I quickly head back to get it, spending an extra couple of minutes to add some more glue to doubly secure my fake moustache to avoid any embarrassing costume mishaps.
The hallway is deserted as I walk down it and get into the lift—the lobby isn’t though. As I step out of the lift in my costume, people stop and stare, smiling, laughing, and pointing me out to their friends. I grin proudly when a stroppy-looking teenager lifts his head from his phone and takes a picture of me. The receptionist’s eyes follow my every move, her mouth hanging open. Clearly, I’m the best dressed so far. My chest puffs out smugly.
The function room for the party is at the back of the hotel. When I step inside, I’m a quarter of the way across the room before I notice that everyone is in dark suits, shirts and ties, and nice dresses.
Perplexed, I look around at a few faces to check I’m in the correct party. Maybe I’ve unwittingly wandered into someone else’s celebration instead. But nope, there’s my mother, gawping at me with her hand covering her mouth, and there’s Aunt Theresa, choking on her drink.
I spot Jared and Amy with a group of our mutual friends, all standing around, talking. Jared is in one of his nice suits; I know it well, as I’ve borrowed it enough times. Amy is in a long, sparkly black dress, her hair pulled back into an elegant twist.
What the hell are they all dressed as? Is this some joint Men in Black effort or something? If so, their effort is piss poor. I’m definitely getting a prize.
As one, the crowd falls quiet, and then the tittering and whispering begin as people stare at me with wide eyes while I swan over to my brother.
When I get to him, Jared is openly gaping at me, his mouth and eyes wide. Amy is grinning like a madwoman. Heather is just slow-blinking at me. Tim is snickering and biting his knuckle to stifle it.
Jared reaches out and puts his hand on my shoulder, his mouth now pulling up into a massive smile as he lets out a little snort-laugh. “What the hell are you dressed as? Theo! I said dress fancy, not fancy-dress!”
Realisation hits me like a bucket of ice water.
Oh Christ, I’ve fucked up.
Suddenly, people’s attention moves from me to the door. The shocked gasps and whispers double. My heart sinks, and I turn just as Lucie is walking in the door. Her eyes widen and then narrow accusingly as they zero in on me. The muscle in her jaw twitches, and her hands clench into fists at her sides.
“I am so dead,” I groan.
twelve
Theo
I raise my hand and wave. I actually wave at her—you know, just in case she can’t see the fucking green dinosaur with the fat little Italian plumber perched on top of it among the sea of posh frocks and suits. In my defence, I’m not thinking straight. A man can only think with one of his heads at a time, and right now, seeing her in her outfit, the head below my belt is in charge, not the one attached to my neck.
Luciella Gordio looks smoking hot.
I gulp and stare.
She’s dressed as Wonder Woman—not the new, modern one, but the old classic ’70s TV show one. Her strapless, fitted red top hugs and clings to every curve and has the gold Wonder Woman logo emblazoned across her breasts; the blue skirt with white stars on is short, just kissing the tops of her shapely thighs. It makes my heart stutter and my balls clench. She even has the little gold Lasso of Truth tied to her hip along with knee-high red-and-white boots, wide gold cuff bracelets at her wrists, and the gold tiara. Her hair is blown out big, like the actress on the show I used to watch reruns of with my dad when I was a kid; it flows down around her shoulders and back. There’s so much skin, so many curves, so much … bombshell … that I’m worried I might pass out due to lack of blood because it all seems to have flown straight down south. She looks like Comic Con gone wild. It’s perfection.
I’ve never been more attracted to anyone—ever. My dick has gone from sleeping to full salute so fast that I’m surprised it’s not cut Yoshi’s head clean off.
Scratch what I said earlier—she should win the best-dressed prize. She wins all the damn prizes for this outfit.
Hell, Luce, here, take everything I own. Take my heart, take my body. You win; it’s yours. They think it’s all over; it is now …
She’s an actual Leonardo DiCaprio in Wolf of Wall Street fist bite in this outfit.
Behind me, Tim loses the battle against stifling his laughter, and I shift on my feet, knowing this is going to be bad.
I’ve fucked up spectacularly here and obviously heard what I wanted to hear when Jared said “dress fancy.” What is wrong with me?
Lucie stalks towards me, her strides measured and calculated, her hands still in fists. She hasn’t taken her eyes off me and ignores everyone who ogles her as she walks past. I’m not sure she’s even breathing. She looks like she could spew fire. I’m actually concerned for my life.
Fuck. I’m in trouble here.
“Theo, close your mouth,” Jared whispers helpfully from my side. But I note that he takes a step away from me, obviously clearing the blast zone in case shit goes down.
I snap my mouth shut and gulp just as Lucie stops in front of me. I can’t help but notice that she looks even better up close. Her make-up is flawless, the skin of her s
houlders is creamy and smooth, and her figure is all hourglass curves. I want every inch of it wrapped around me like a boa constrictor—I wouldn’t even care if she crushed me to death at the same time. At the moment, I can’t think of any way I’d rather go.
Her eyes finally leave my face and flick around the group I’m standing with before coming back to me again. I flinch at the hardness to them. What confuses me is the polite, tight smile on her mouth.
“So, it’s obviously not a fancy-dress party like I was led to believe.” It’s a statement, not a question.
I wince apologetically. “I’m sorry. Christ, I’m so sorry. Jared apparently said dress fancy, and I heard fancy dress and … shit. This is all my fault. I’m sorry.” I awkwardly shuffle on my feet, hating that her eyes seem to be a little glazed.
Is she about to cry? Oh, man, that hurts.
Amy and Heather step forward as one and crowd her, Amy’s arm supportively going around her waist.
Heather shakes her head, and her lips pull down at the corners. “Oh, Lucie, I’m mortified for you. Oh my God, I can’t believe this has happened. Theo!” She turns to glare at me, eyes narrowing accusingly as she punches me in the shoulder so hard that I’ll likely wake with a bruise in the morning. I can’t even blame her.
Amy reaches up and takes hold of Lucie’s shoulders, stepping closer to her. “You look absolute fire right now. Just incredible. So bloody hot. Don’t even worry about this. You’re stunning. Own it, girl. You’re killing it.” She gives her a little shake and firmly nods her head. “Seeing you in this, I’m actually jealous. I wish this were a bloody fancy-dress party.” She turns to Jared and pouts, a frown lining her forehead. “We should have had a theme for tonight. What a missed opportunity.”
Lucie’s smile doesn’t change; it’s polite and obviously fake. It’s the smile Dolores Umbridge gives when she makes people write with the blood pen. She’s plotting my murder behind that smile.
The people around us are still staring, enjoying the spectacle. They probably think we’re the entertainment for the evening. As I look around, I notice that almost every male guest at the party is lustfully staring at Lucie—either outright or discreetly so as not to get caught by their significant others. People laughed at my costume, but they’re lusting after hers. I hate it. Noah, one of my best friends, is full-on checking her out, his eyes predatory as his gaze rakes over her body so slowly that I want to karate-chop him in the fucking throat. I can almost see the cogs in his head turning. He wants to make a move. A zing of jealousy and possessiveness hits me and makes my back straighten. I’ve not felt passionate like this in a long time. I hate them all for looking at her and thinking they have a chance.
Stand-In Saturday: (A standalone romcom. Book 2 in the Love For Days series) Page 11