Page 97 of Bridesmaid By Chance
Hudson: I know. But…there was that Devin fuck and she took care of me and I didn’t like that she wasn’t herself around me. I’m just so fucked in the head that I really don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
Hardy: Well, I’m here to tell you to press the reset button. It’s the spot just behind your balls.
Hudson: Grow up.
Hardy: YOU grow up. This is business, start acting like it. Get the job done, divorce her, and move the fuck on.
Hudson: I know. I know. Fuck. Why does she have to be so…interesting?
Hardy: Interesting? Sheesh, good thing you’re not waxing poetic to her about your feelings, because that would be a real doozy. She wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off you.
Hudson: I don’t know how else to describe it. She’s interesting.
Hardy: Yup, keep saying it, that makes it better.
Hudson: She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever met. She has no filter and for some reason, I really like that.
Hardy: Probably because you’ve been surrounded by people your entire life, besides me and Haisley, who have always had a filter on.
Hudson: Yeah, probably. She’s also beautiful. Like…fuck, you should see her in one of my shirts.
Hardy: Okay, we’re not going there. Forget what she looks like wearing one of your shirts, make her wear a turtleneck to bed, also…STOP SHARING A BED.
Hudson: She’s my wife.
Hardy: For fuck’s sake. You know what, I can’t deal with this fuckery anymore. She’s not really your wife, you nimrod. She’s…she’s an associate who happens to be wearing a ring you put on her finger. Nothing else. This is business.
Hudson: She’s still my wife.
Hardy: Jesus Christ. Okay, well, I can see that we are still delusional. Please don’t text me when you fuck. When Jude finds out, I want to be able to tell him that I was an innocent bystander in all of this.
Hudson: You are far from innocent. You’re in deep.
Hardy: I fucking know!
“Is this really necessary?” Sloane asks as she fixes her hair in the mirror. “I’m not going to do anything embarrassing.”
I take in the robe she’s wearing and how it slightly parts in the front while she curls her hair. I know she’s not wearing anything under it, which I shouldn’t care about, but for the life of me, I can’t stop thinking about it.
“It is necessary,” I say. “I want you to be prepared. Sheridan’s wedding will require you to act a certain way. And the Mayfair Club is full of pretentious rich people who will eat you alive if you’re not prepared.”
“You know, I have watchedTitanic.”
I’m sitting on the bed leaning back on my hands, looking into the bathroom and watching Sloane’s every move. She can be random and different butTitanic? Where the hell did that come from?
“How does that have anything to do with what we’re talking about?”
She finishes her last curl and sprays some hair spray over her hair before turning toward me and leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. “Umm, I studied the class difference between Jack and Rose. I get it. You’re Rose, and I’m Jack. You’re trying to get me all gussied up andready to hang with the wealthy, while I’m dragging you down to the cargo room and trying to fuck you in the car.”
“That’s…no. That’s not what is happening.”
“Isn’t it though?” she says as she moves toward me, her leg peeking out from the slit of her robe. “You were born with wealth and expectations. I’m just a lowly soul, looking to have a good time Irish dancing.”
“Jesus,” I mutter as she moves in even closer.
“I know what it takes to hang with Rose,” she says as she presses her hand to my shoulder and pushes at me until I’m lying flat on the bed.
Please don’t climb on my lap.
