Page 155 of Bridesmaid Undercover
I have to hand it to Everly, she really knows how to throw a party…and Haisley knows how to build a themed house. Boa garlands are strewn from patio pole to patio pole. Couches are strategically placed throughout the space with black and yellow plaid pillows. Along the back wall of the patio, there are picture frames of all different sizes hanging with pictures of Ken and Polly throughout their relationship. Black and yellow plaid table clothes drape over tables, displaying mini cupcakes, each decorated with a fondant medallion and the words “As If” written across in icing.
“I think everything looks pretty good. People are happy.”
“I meant, what do you think about Everly…seems like you can’t take your eyes off her.” Maple bumps my shoulder.
“Not true,” I say as my eyes fall on the girl in question. She’s over by the bar, talking to the catering manager.
Today, she came to the party with her hair down, which has quickly become my kryptonite. I feel weak when it’s loose around her shoulders, like I might do something stupid. I feel this need to touch it, run my fingers through it, wrap my fist around it.
And instead of wearing one of her pencil skirts or pantsuits, she’s in a pair of brown, high-waisted pants and a black, long-sleeved shirt that has cutouts along her torso, showing off her skin. The moment I saw her, I knew I needed to keep my distance. She came up to me at one point, and I awkwardly waved, but then said I needed to check on the dips—which was stupid, because it was the third time I’d checked on them to avoid her.
And why am I avoiding her?
Because Maple has gotten in my head.
Everly is no longer my cool friend.
No, she’s a girl who isn’t just cool but fucking perfect. She’s immensely attractive, so goddamn funny, and she seems to have a chokehold on me that I wasn’t expecting and because of that, I can’t seem to find an easy way to interact with her.
You like her, Hardy.
And…I do.
It’s a battle I’m fighting within myself.
And I don’t know why I’m fighting the battle. The smart man would be like,yup, you like her, you fucking idiot, go after her.
But what if she doesn’t like me back? Hell, she said she wanted to bepen pals.
Fucking pen pals.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that?
And have I been awkward around her?
One hundred percent.
I’ve avoided her. I’ve not answered her emails, her texts. I’ve tried to distance myself out of self-preservation, but all it’s done is make things worse.
Like last night. The look of defeat in her eyes when I was trying to be professional around her nearly split me in half. Sharing ice cream with her, chatting, showing her how to shoot a ping-pong ball, all highs.
Highs that I thought about before I went to bed and when I woke up this morning.
I thought about her all goddamn day. I’ve completely chickened out and have avoided her at all costs tonight. Because now I think she’s gotten the hint and has stayed away as the party has started to unfold.
“You are such a liar,” Maple says. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“I don’t know,” I say with a defeated sigh. “Fuck, Maple. It’s like I’m nervous or something. I don’t get nervous around women. I don’t start to sweat and act all weird and fidgety, but with her I do.”
“Because you care what she thinks.”
“I care what you think,” I say. “And I wasn’t out of my mind approaching you.”
“Maybe because it wasn’t a high risk,” Maple says. “If I said no, if I turned you down, would you really be broken up about it? And before you answer that, I can answer it for you. It’s a no. But now you’ve gotten to know Everly, you’ve grown an attachment to her, and if she rejects you, well, that’s a rejection I’m not sure you can stomach.”
How fucking accurate is that?
Because she’s right. A rejection from Everly would send me spinning because I don’t want to be just friends. I sure as fuck don’t want to be pen pals. The stakes really are higher, and it’sthe reason I find myself on one end of the backyard and Everly on the other.
