5. Indie
FIVE
Indie
“ U rgh.” I moan, holding my head against the pounding, trying to squish my brain free from my skull. It’s so bad that a beat of the same pulse echoes through the room. When it becomes louder, accompanied by my name, I realize it’s someone knocking at my hotel door.
Why?
“Hold on,” I croak, my throat parched.
I dig out of the surprisingly soft white sheets and stumble from the king-size bed to the door. Pulling it open, I find Taylor waiting, two coffees in hand.
I snatch one from her like an untrained monkey at the zoo.
“Jesus, babe. You look rough.”
“The real question is, why don’t you? And why are you here so early?” I groan, plopping onto the bed and tucking my legs underneath me. I suck down the delicious vanilla latte and sigh as the warm liquid coats my scratchy throat.
“Final dress fitting ring a bell?”
“Oh shit, that’s right.” I jerk to the left and look over my shoulder at the alarm clock on the side table. The red numbers read nine o’ six. “Your appointment isn’t until noon; why wake me up so early? You know I don’t do hungover well.”
“We haven’t spent time together in person in over two years. I love our weekly Facetime calls, but I have you for an entire week. I’m going to take advantage,” Tay sings.
“Pancakes. If you want me to leave this hotel room before eleven thirty, you owe me pancakes.”
“Deal! Now, go fix your hair and brush your teeth. You look and smell like the roadkill I passed off Route 16.”
I reach over and snag a pillow to chuck at her head. She’s way too perky for the amount we drank last night, and she easily misses the flying object.
I trudge from the bed with my magic cup of life and disappear behind the bathroom door, praying a shower will make me feel human again.
A steaming stack of pancakes slides in front of me, alongside my third cup of coffee. The caffeine is slowly chipping away at my hangover headache. I double-fist the heavenly liquid with water, working all avenues for a quick reprieve.
I drizzle enough syrup to drown a fish over my stack and dig in. An embarrassing moan rips from my throat when the buttery-sweet goodness hits my tongue.
Taylor’s eyes widen, and she hides her growing smile behind a freshly pressed glass of orange juice. “Good?” she asks, laughing as I shovel more bites down.
“Why is the food so much better here than in LA? The pizza last night, now these?”
“Because there’s nothing like southern cooking, Indie. Wait? What pizza? Please tell me you didn’t search for food after I left last night?” Alarm fills those bright blue orbs staring at me.
“Uhm, no. Not exactly. So, are you excited about your last fitting?” I try to change the subject, hopeful she’ll be excited to get on the topic of the wedding.
Her eyes narrow into slits. “Indie Renee Monroe.”
My shoulders jerk to my ears at the sound of my full name. It brings back visions of my mother scolding me through the kitchen window in the middle of summer as I ran around the backyard.
“Don’t full name me.” I poke my fork in her direction.
“When did you have pizza? Where?”
I let out an obnoxiously long sigh, my silverware clattering against the table. “After you left, I realized no other cabs were waiting. When I went to grab my phone, it was missing. I barged back into the bar and Brooks was super happy about it. He worked really hard to help me find my phone. Then, as I was leaving, his incredibly sweet and funny brother walked in with a giant pizza box. He offered a slice, and I couldn’t turn away greasy, cheesy carbs at two in the morning with a stomach sloshing full of toxic liquid, so I stayed. Afterward, Brooks drove me back to the hotel. It was no biggie.” I speed through the bullet points and shove another forkful of pancakes into my mouth to shut up my rambling.
“Wait, you met Nick?” she asks, a tone of disbelief coating her question.
“Uhm, yeah. He was super nice. There are, like, zero similarities between them. Why do you look like I saw some town ghost?”
“It’s not my place to tell you his story, but Nick tends to keep to himself. Well, except for his brother.”
I wonder what she means by that. Even through my inebriated haze, the man I met last night seemed like he’d be the life of the party.
Then again, I intruded on their brotherly time; maybe I only saw a facade of what he’s typically like.
The last bite of my food was a mistake. I’m stuffed full and bursting at the seams—the perfect way to be right before my final dress fitting. Tay, on the other hand, pushes away her half-eaten plate of an egg white scramble and a bowl of fruit. The girl has nothing to be worried about going into her appointment, but she’s still on some ridiculous pre-wedding diet.
The waitress comes by with the check, and I reach forward to take care of it, but Tay steals it from me, throwing down her platinum card. The move reminds me of our parting conversation last night. The nagging feeling to bring back up the topic pokes at my mind until I’m physically stressing my fingers under the table.
“So, Tay?” Her eyes pull free from her phone, meeting mine. “Do you remember what we talked about last night before you left in your cab?”
“Honestly, that part of the night is hazy. Was it something important?”
I pause because, duh, twenty thousand dollars for a bet is really fucking important to me. But I’m worried if I bring it up, she’ll think I’m lying and trying to get more money out of the game. This situation feels like all the other times she’s offered money for the business, and I’ve backed away. I don’t like it. Since she doesn’t remember, I’ll leave it and take the ten thousand. That’s more than enough to invest in marketing to get the company's name out there.
“Jesus, you look so stressed right now. I’m just fucking with you. Of course, I remember what I said. And I know the perfect person for the challenge.”
“God, I hate you. You’re such a bitch sometimes.” I laugh, the weight lifting from my shoulders. “Actually, I know you said I couldn’t pick, but I was thinking, what about Nick?”
“That’s not a good idea,” she answers immediately. “Plus, I already have someone picked out for you. And here he comes, walking down the street. Ready? One, two, three, look!” she announces excitedly.
When I turn my head toward the window, my brain ignores the giant bane of my existence. I look around his shadowing body to see who Taylor means. Then it dawns on me, and I drop my head back, taking in his annoying stubbled jaw.
“Absolutely not, Tay. Why would you do that to me?!”
“For one, it wouldn’t be worth the money if it was a walk in the park for you. And two, you don’t even know him, Indie. So, you guys got off on the wrong foot. I think if you gave him a chance, you’d realize you both have a lot in common.”
I scoff, wondering if my best friend knows me at all. “There’s no way. You’re giving me an impossible task.”
“With that attitude, you won’t,” she pauses, searching my face, “come on, for me? Please?”
I watch the man in question walk past the windows to the front door. The small bell above the door chimes with his arrival. He doesn’t catch my eyes scrutinizing everything about him. From the backward baseball cap keeping his dark hair contained to that thick layer of stubble across his hard jaw. The sherpa-lined jacket that was all the craze a few years ago hugs tight to his broad shoulders, and when he steps up to the front counter, I catch another glimpse of his sculpted ass in those jeans.
Objectively, the man is hot. Then he opens his mouth, and all those little details wash away, and the requited animosity returns.
I’m going to regret this. “Fine,” I finally add, startling Taylor from her people-watching. “I agree with your terms. I will try to get to know him. But you’re going to have to run interference because there’s no way in hell he’s giving me the time of day after last night.”
Taylor squeals with delight, shimmying her shoulders. “Don’t worry. That won’t be a problem! He’ll be at all the stuff for the wedding. You guys will have plenty of time to mend bridges and get over your stupid issues.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this. But twenty thousand dollars? That’s my new motto. Whenever this thing goes sideways, and that’s bound to happen when we can’t help but rip each other’s heads off any time we speak, I’ll recite my motto.
I glance back over to the counter, where he’s taking a to-go cup of coffee and a small pastry bag from our waitress. When he turns to leave, our eyes lock. I might as well set the groundwork for the rest of the week. I give him a small smile and an awkward wave. His brows crinkle in confusion, and he shoots me back a glare instead of returning the nicety.
Well, fuck.
Taylor laughs at the exchange, turning back to me at the table after he leaves out of the front door. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
“And whose fault is that?” I snipe back.
“Well, now that we have that settled. Let’s talk about me and the wedding.”
Her excitement quells my frustration from the brush-off from Brooks. She’s right; I do have my work cut out for me. But I know I can turn this around. Maybe he was having an off night. There’s no way that Spencer would keep a friend with such a grizzly demeanor. That alone settles my worries. I sit back and listen to the blushing bride go over more wedding details until an alarm on her phone goes off.
“Dress fitting time!”