Chapter 19
Holly
One hour later
Things I should be thinking about:
The only thing I am thinking about:
1. A certain British surgeon whose entire existence revolves around getting on my nerves.
“Here you go, ladies!” Loud music pulses from the speakers and the bartender returns with our order. “One espresso martini for the bride to be and one gin martini for her pretty friend. Cheers!”
April mutters a “thank you” and takes a delicate sip, holding onto her elaborate purple headpiece, careful not to mess up her bangs.
The rest of her costume is just as outlandish.
A skintight purple leather bodysuit, a high-neck silver leather choker, silver leather arm cuffs, and purple thigh-high leather boots.
The only non-leather part of her outfit is the glittery Bride to Be sash.
“Can I get you ladies anything else?” The bartender leans against the counter, flashing me a wide grin that’s all teeth and grotesque puppy-dog eyes.
His gaze roams all over me and my costume — which, I suppose, is fair.
I do look nice tonight. Despite my initial doubts about letting April pick out my outfit, I have to admit she did a decent job.
A dark green pleated mini-skirt and a black sheer corset top, all layered under an even darker green bomber jacket.
The black thigh-high boots were my choice. The gold headpiece was hers.
It's shaped like a crown with two horns on either side. Although one of the horns seems to be missing or broken, I’m not sure.
April offers the bartender a polite smile. “No, thank you —”
“I asked for eight olives,” I cut in, my tone flat as if he’s wasting our time. He is.
His expression falters, and he glances down at the three lonely olives bobbing in my glass. “Oh, let me fix that for you —”
I snatch the martini back before his grubby fingers can touch it, holding his gaze as I take a sip. His mouth opens like he’s about to apologize again. “Leave,” I cut him off.
His cheeks flush.
I watch him scuttle away to tend to another customer at the opposite end of the bar, then glance at April, who’s looking at me like I just killed her cat. “What?”
“That was really rude, Hol.”
“I know. It’s fun. You should try it sometime.” I take another sip of my drink.
“He was just trying to be nice.”
“Emphasis on trying.” I set my glass down and start rummaging through my purse. “So, what color penis would you like to suck on tonight?”
April almost spits out her drink. “What?”
“Just pick a color, please.”
“Uh…blue?”
“Excellent choice.” I pull out two penis-shaped straws, a blue one for her and a neon green one for myself.
“Oh my god,” she’s laughing now, “you cannot be serious.”
“What? Isn’t this the sort of thing a maid of honor is supposed to do at bachelorettes?” I hand her the straw. “It was either this or paying someone on Craigslist to give you a lap dance.”
“I’m glad you chose the straws.”
“Me too. All right, let’s get this over with.” I raise my glass. “Here’s to your last week as a single, unmarried woman. May you and Parker have a lifetime of love and happiness.”
“Wow, that was surprisingly not mean at all —”
“And may your future children love me more than they love you.”
“There it is.”
We clink our glasses together and use the penis straws to suck out the booze like total pros. The smooth burn slides down my throat, and for a split second, the chaos inside my head quiets. The world stops spinning and for a second, the name Theo Carter vanishes from my brain. Only for a second.
Then the strange sensation returns to my chest, practically clawing at it.
Do you want me to stop?
Tell me to stop, Holly.
You have two seconds before I back off.
I suck hard on my green straw, immediately getting a mouthful of unmixed vermouth.
I want to go back in time and smack myself on the head.
I should’ve just told him to back off. But it was as if every brain cell I owned stopped working the second he put his hands on me.
Rough and firm curled around the back of my neck.
The feeling of his long, slender fingers, pressing and pushing against my pulse, testing my patience and his self-restraint simultaneously.
It was maddening. So fucking intoxicating.
I hated how it made me feel. Like there was this intense pull between pure rage and something darker. Heavier. The way he touched me. The way he spoke to me. The way his voice dipped low, calm but commanding, threading itself into my chest like it belonged there.
No one’s ever spoken to me like that. Correction: no one’s ever spoken to me like that and lived to see another day.
Usually, Theo’s all “yes, ma’am” and “whatever you need, love” around me — which, as much as I make it seem like it pisses me off, it isn’t all that bad.
There’s a kind of power in knowing you can bend someone to your will with a single glance or a sharp word.
Him knowing his place around me is probably his only redeeming quality.
But this…this was new. There was a fire in his eyes, no room for apologies or hesitation.
For once, he had control, and I…kinda liked it…
No. I shake my head.
Not at all. Of course, I didn’t like it! What the hell is wrong with me? This is Theo Carter we’re talking about.
Do you want me to stop?
Just because I couldn’t formulate a cohesive response to his stupid words, doesn’t mean I liked having his hands on me. I was just shocked, is all. Stunned into mutism.
Tell me to stop, Holly.
A dark unsettling heat courses through my veins, and I fidget with the tiny scalpel tied to my thigh just above the hem of my skirt.
You have two seconds before I back off.
The cold metal does little to erase the gnawing tension building inside me.
Did I want him to stop? Did I really, truly want him to back off and peel his hands off my skin? Or did I want him to keep pushing me until I snapped and made him bleed? Until I slit his throat for touching me so tenderly — and let him keep touching me as I did it.
This is wrong.
A firestorm of emotions boils inside me. I force myself to focus on my hatred for Theo.
Hatred is good. Hatred helps me think. Hatred prevents me from being stupid, from thinking bad thoughts — thoughts that have no business living inside my brain.
It shouldn’t be this way. It’s not supposed to be this way.
I hate being touched, that’s a fucking fact.
Especially by a man. Just the thought of it makes me feel like there are insects crawling under my skin, their tiny slimy legs digging into me, deeper and deeper with every passing second. It makes me want to rip my skin off.
But somehow, that’s not the case with Theo. When Theo touched me, it felt…
“Hey, Hol?” April says.
“Hm?” I mumble through the plastic.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“It’s a little stupid, so you have to promise not to make fun.”
“No can do.”
She hesitates, shifting in her seat, before finally looking me straight in the eye. “Do you think I’m in over my head about this whole marriage thing?”
Shocked, I just stare at her for a moment. “What?”
She plays with the stem of her martini glass.
“Don’t worry, it’s not bad. I still want to marry Parker.
I love him more than anything else in this world.
He's my best friend, but...” She pauses, her voice trailing off.
“What if love isn’t enough, you know? I'm pretty sure, we've loved each other since we were fifteen, but still, shit went down. We stopped talking for eight whole years and…it didn’t matter how much we loved each other back then. What if something happens again and love isn’t enough?
What if I mess up again? What if I lose him again?
What if he's having doubts too? What if he's only marrying me because he thinks it’s what I want? It did happen pretty quick. What if — why…why aren’t you saying anything? ”
“You’re right. It is a little stupid.”
Her face shrinks. “Don’t be mean.”
I put my arm around her, pulling her into a sideways hug. “People panic before weddings. It’s normal. You’re making a huge life decision. It’s okay to worry a little.”
“That doesn’t sound like generic advice at all.”
“Can I finish?”
She nods.
“First, I would just like to make it clear that what I’m about to say in no way implies that I like Hayden Parker. I only like him for you. There’s a difference. And secondly, do you remember that one time Parker punched your douchebag boyfriend’s nose?”
She chuckles. “Yeah, he almost broke his hand.”
“Exactly. He didn’t even think twice. Never mind the fact that he has the hand-eye coordination of a paralyzed toad.
Nothing mattered to him except for protecting you.
That’s when I knew that this was something way more than just friendship.
The two of you love each other like it’s breathing, April.
And maybe love isn’t always enough, but who said it has to be?
There are going to be ups and downs, both of you are going to hurt and disappoint each other, you just have to figure out if you’re willing to go through those ups and downs with him or not.
Because regardless of what the future holds, the mere ability to say that you loved this person and that they loved you back, is so rare.
And god forbid, something does happen and the two of you end up not speaking for another eight years, then do you really think that loser won’t go to hell and back to find his way back to you?
There isn’t a single thought in his brain that doesn’t start and finish with you —”
I’m cut off by two arms wrapping around me in a full-fledged hug. April’s voice is muffled, and I feel her sniffle against me.
“Oh, God. Are you crying?”
Pulling back, she wipes her cheeks and smiles at me. Just a little. “You might act all tough, but you’re such a softie, Hollister.”
I wrinkle my nose in disgust. “Don’t fucking call me that.”