CHAPTER EIGHT #2
While the strong reaction catches me off guard, I kind of get it.
Something about Ty feels like an old friend.
We slipped into that so easily. It’s odd how the guys have all molded to me so quickly.
Other than Celeste, connecting with people has never come natural to me, which often has me feeling awkward around others, but it’s not like that with any of them.
And the way Wells knows exactly what to say and do to get under my skin is equal measures thrilling and infuriating.
But out of all the guys, Ty is the one who puts me most at ease.
“So, so beautiful, Freckles,” he rasps, voice husky.
Rena studies him. “Wow, that’s really sweet, Ty. It’s how I imagine my brothers will react if I ever trick anyone into marrying me.”
“I don’t think you’ll need to trick anyone. You’re clearly a catch,” I say.
She curtsies with her hand under her chin. “Thank you.” Straightening, she adds, “I’m a handful though. That’s what happens when you’re raised by older brothers who keep you under lock and key. A rebellious princess, imprisoned in the bell tower.”
Hmm. No parents. I wonder what the story is there. Too soon to ask something so personal though, so I twirl back to the three-way mirror and gawk at the gown some more.
“Your boobs are phenomenal, and that dress isn’t shy about shouting it,” she proclaims, ogling my chest, which makes me laugh .
“They’re fake,” I admit. “I had far less than a handful, and … I did it for me.”
I’m not sure why I felt compelled to confess that, except that Rena is a knockout.
At least a few inches taller than me with long, lean legs and beautiful, subtle curves.
Maybe she was merely flattering me, but comparison always makes me cringe.
It leaves us all feeling less than. The thief of joy.
Sharing that I have implants shows none of us are perfect, but also embarrasses me.
I’m aware of the stigma. Fake tits is a slander in half the books I read.
So, I clarify. “I hated how straight and small I was everywhere . I got a small D, so it complemented my body type. I wanted to get out of the shower, look in the mirror, and be excited about what I saw.”
It’s the reason my parents were comfortable with the request before I started college. They understood it was for me.
“Well, they look real. And it’s not like the pink streaks or holes all over my body are natural, so more power to you.” Her mouth curls into an audacious grin. “So, are you?”
“Am I?” I ask, spinning to face her.
“Turned on when you get out of the shower?”
Not exactly how I phrased it.
I cackle, heat rushing to my cheeks in mortification, and glance at Ty, who is chuckling as well. “Yep.” I roll my lips in. “Totally turned on when I step out of the shower.”
“Great. If things don’t work out with Wells, you’re all set.” She whoops with a clap, like we’ve solved all my issues.
Celeste would adore her.
“All set,” I confirm, rubbing my forehead and turning back to take one more gander at the dress.
“Did you dream of your wedding day as a little girl?” she asks, standing behind me in the mirror, her fingers playing with the button detailing down the back.
“Yeah, I guess I did. I mean, mostly I dreamed of the marriage.” I laugh, realizing how silly that seems now.
“My parents have always been so happy. They went to college together. She was a freshman while he was in his first year of medical school, and he used to study on a bench across campus, just so he could catch a glimpse of her. He waited more than a year to ask her out, worried he couldn’t devote enough time to her because of his studies.
I always wanted a love like that—the kind that can’t walk away. ”
I catch myself drifting into that dream with the stark realization that I’m probably not supposed to tell anyone this is a business deal, which would mean that Wells and I should have that type of love.
“Anyway,” I say, trying to move far away from the bricks of emotion stacking from the image of my parents falling in love, “for the wedding, I always pictured something book-themed, assuming I’d marry someone who loved literature as much as I did, or who wouldn’t mind the theme.
Simple. Elegant. Not overdone. A book cake.
Cherished pages and quotes throughout. Candlelight.
Small and intimate, like a quaint fairy tale.
So that, for one day, it was as though I had fallen into the pages of my favorite love story and gotten to touch it. ”
Tears stream down my face. God, is this the first time I’ve cried about this? It’s all happened so fast. I was so worried about staying in control that I didn’t think about all I was giving up. It never occurred to me to grieve.
“Ivy?” Rena mutters, puzzled expression.
“Yeah?” I sniff.
Her pierced brow kinks. “Does Wells not love books?”
It doesn’t matter either way. None of this is real.
But sometimes, all of it feels right, like home.
I don’t understand how Wells and the other guys feel familiar, like they know me well enough to be my family.
My heart wants to lean into it, but in other moments, the hairs on the back of my neck rise, as though I were walking into my childhood bedroom for the three thousandth time and everything was right, except for the way the curtains were pulled back and the strange angle of a picture frame.
Familiar. Home. But … off .
“He does,” I whisper, unable to see anything, the hurt dripping so doggedly that my lashes stick together, and everything—the past and future, present and hopes—blurs into a hurricane of loss.
Little Storm.
Ty pulls me into his chest, wrapping me in a warm hug with a comfort I shouldn’t gather from a week-long friend, while I sob from the ache, from the fear.
“You’ll be okay, Freckles. It’ll all be okay.” His tone sounds unsure, nervous, which is reasonable. He can’t possibly guarantee a happily ever after.
And something tells me nothing will be okay, or normal, or expected ever again.
“Cold feet.” Amy’s words slice through the moment, reminding me that Ty and I are not alone for this breakdown. “Happens to the best of us. Let the tears fall today, sweetie. Tomorrow, everything will feel lighter.”
Will it? My gut says heavy is my new normal. Maybe I am just freaking out though.
“Ooh!” Rena exclaims with another champagne flute in hand. “We need accessories. Nothing brightens a day better than shoes.”
I unfurl my mangled arms from Ty’s chest as he kisses my hair and lets me go. “Bring on the shoes.”
An hour later, we’re on our way to dinner, having added a tasteful black-diamond choker, white lace lingerie, and a pair of glittery, crystal-embellished Jimmy Choos to accompany my dress.
So far, it’s been abundantly clear that Rena is one of those warm-up-fast kind of spirits, not holding back. Although, if she’s been locked up—like it seems I’m going to be—for the entirety of her life, I suppose she has to squeeze a whole friendship into this weekend.
She peers at me across the table after our plates have been cleared. “Okay, so I waited the whole meal to ask. What about sex? Will your wedding night be your first time? Any and all sexual experiences, lay it on me, girl. ”
I choke on a laugh, so taken aback, mainly because Ty is beside me. My eyes shift to him and back to her with my concern.
She nods, slurping her frosty strawberry margarita. “Got it. Ty, you’re a bridesmaid today, right? Not a bodyguard and not Wells’s friend.”
He smirks, and for the briefest second, I catch his unintentional perusal of Rena. Huh .
Deliberating for a moment, which seems in jest with a gleaming grin now in place, he answers her, “I am here solely in support of Ivy.” Shouldering me, he tacks on, “Your secrets are safe with me, Freckles.”
I sigh. In the midst of this topsy-turvy, pre-unconventional-wedding celebration, the embarrassment might be worth harnessing a morsel of bonding.
“Yes. I haven’t ever … I’m a virgin, mainly because something about waiting made me feel powerful and also because I never had anyone draw that carnal I-can’t-wait desire out of me.
” I bite my lip. “That probably sounds silly.”
“Not at all.” She shakes her head, her pink-and-blonde ponytail swishing with the movement. “You want a man to work for it. Earn you. I like you more by the minute, Ivy. But give me more. The good, the bad, the ugly. What are we working with here?”
Humming in thought, I ingest some liquid courage and decide to share something only Celeste and my mom know.
“There was this guy a couple of years ago in college. He flirted with me after class and asked me to come to a frat party. When I got there, my gut twisted. Something about him was different. He must’ve noticed my guard go up because, before I had a chance to bolt, he dragged me into his room by my hair, pushed me to the floor, and shoved his dick in my mouth, holding my head there.
So, I … I bit him. Hard. Really hard. The next moments are a blur.
I fought him off somehow and ran. But then I freaked out and thought he’d come after me.
So, I called my mom, told her what happened, and left school for a week.
He must’ve been hurt pretty badly though because he never returned. ”
“Jesus,” Rena gasps. “What an asshole. My brothers would kill a guy if he did that to me. I bet that was scary.”
My heart rate rockets higher with the memory.
It isn’t a recollection I linger on very often.
“In the moment, it was terrifying. Even the spine-chilling drive home.” An unbidden shiver spills down my back, quickly followed by a well-earned serenity.
“But the weird thing is, I didn’t feel victimized afterward.
I felt empowered. ” I glance at Ty, remembering how Wells said he handles erasing victims of abuse.
“I know how lucky I was, and I’m not saying—”