14. Bex #3
I blow-dry my hair, running a hand over that small bruise on my neck.
I rummage for a scarf or something that might conceal it.
A regular T-shirt collar won't do the job, so I end up tying a thin black bandana around my neck like an accessory.
Not the best, but hopefully it'll pass for a style choice, especially in a city that appreciates a little flair.
Lexi emerges from her bedroom, half-dressed and chugging a water bottle. She gives me a suspicious squint. "You're up early. Were you out all night?"
I force a casual shrug. "Hung out with some friends."
She glances at my bandana. "New look?"
"Trying something."
She raises an eyebrow but says nothing more. Thankfully, she's more interested in rummaging for a bag of crackers from the kitchen.
At 10:15, I'm out the door, meeting Sofia and Lexi on the curb. Kit is nowhere to be seen, but when we arrive at the brunch spot, a cozy café with an unmarked door and rickety chairs, Kit's already seated inside, scanning her phone.
My stomach dips at the sight of her. She's wearing a crisp sleeveless blouse in a muted gray, and her hair is pinned back so cleanly it looks like last night has been ironed out of it. She keeps her posture angled so the group can't see the tension in her shoulders.
The second she sees me, her gaze flicks quickly to my bandana, maybe checking whether I'm hiding a bruise or a ring, I can't tell. Then her mouth forms a small line that might be a nervous greeting.
Sofia slides into the seat next to Kit, launching into a story about wedding errands. Lexi plops down with a sigh. I sit across from Kit. My knees accidentally bump hers under the table, and for half a second, we lock eyes.
A flush creeps across my face. I try to pretend it's the heat.
Sofia and Lexi are walking through the next three weeks: fittings, the drive up, arrival dates at Hollyvale.
Kit is nodding, taking mental notes. I'm only half-listening.
My entire body is tuned to the fact that Kit's right knee is pressed against the inside of mine under the table. She isn't moving it, and neither am I.
The ring is absent from her hands. She must have stowed it. I sense her scanning me for any sign of mine. My left hand is empty. She sees that.
There's a moment when Darius, one of Sofia's friends, pops over from another table to say hi. Everyone's polite hellos swirl. Then he asks, "You guys have a good time last night?"
Sofia winks at me. "I assume Bex got into mischief."
I stiffen, heart pounding. Kit's shoulders go rigid.
But then Lexi snorts. "I left the party early, so I wouldn't know. But that kiss last night was enough chaos for a month, right?" She's referencing the dare.
Sofia laughs, pointing to me. "I still can't believe you and Kit actually did that."
Kit fights not to go wide-eyed. I see it. My own pulse skyrockets.
Sofia shrugs with a grin. "I've never known Kit to be so adventurous," she jokes mildly. "Maybe wedding planning is rubbing off on you. You're jumping in with both feet."
Kit forces a small laugh. "What can I say? I'm easily influenced."
The table laughs politely, unknowing. My cheeks burn something fierce.
Sofia's phone buzzes. She glances at it, then stands, waving a hand. "Excuse me, I need to take this. Probably Jordan with some pre-wedding question."
Lexi excuses herself to go find the restroom. Darius returns to his own table.
Suddenly, it's just me and Kit at the brunch table.
She keeps her voice low, leaning forward slightly. "You okay?"
I nod, swallowing. "Yeah, you?"
She draws in a quiet breath. "I keep wanting to check if the ring is visible or if we have some secret sign on our foreheads."
I huff a small laugh. "We're fine. It'll stay hush."
Her eyes flick toward the door, double-checking that no one is listening. "I can't plan my way out of this," she murmurs. "I don't even know what 'out of this' means if we're not. I don't know."
She's so precise even in her panic, which is strangely endearing. She taps her nails once on the table, a nervous gesture that draws my attention to her neatly manicured fingertips.
"Then we don't plan it," I say, before I can think better of it.
Her tapping stops. "That's not a sentence that exists in my language."
"Learn it." I keep my voice easy, easier than anything happening under my ribs. "We don't have to know what this is by lunch. We get through Hollyvale first. Three weeks. We stand where we're supposed to stand, we smile at the right moments, we get your best friend married. Then we figure out us."
The word us sits on the table between the coffee cups. Neither of us picks it up. Neither of us puts it away, either.
Under the table, her knee presses a fraction harder against mine. It's the only answer she gives, and it's more honest than anything she could say out loud in this café.
"Okay," she says finally, quietly. "Hollyvale first."
Sofia drops back into her chair, tucking her phone away, radiant with pre-wedding energy. "Sorry, Jordan panic, all handled. What did I miss?"
"Nothing," Kit and I say. At exactly the same time.
Sofia's eyes ping between us for a moment. Then she laughs and reaches for the menu. "You two are so weird now. New Orleans changed you."
She has no idea. She has three weeks of no idea left.
I pick up my coffee and let her flip to the beignets, and under the table, Kit's knee stays exactly where it is.