Page 31 of Bridesmaid By Chance
“I wouldn’t be freaking out if it was.”
Knock, knock.
“Everything okay in there?” Hudson asks from the other side of the door.
Oh God.
“Yes,” I squeak. “Everything’s great.”
“Are you sure?”
“Ask him about the kiss,” Stacey whispers, and I shake my head. She nods toward the door. “Yes, ask.”
“No,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Sloane?”
“Yup, everything’s great,” I say in a rush. “Can’t, uh, can’t wait to be your bride. Your beautiful, blushing bride. Just, uh, finishing up in here. You know, plucking things.”
“Plucking?” Stacey mouths in disgust.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
“Uh, okay,” Hudson answers back, sounding perplexed. As he should. “Well, the reverend is getting tired, so if you can hurry up with the plucking, that would be best.”
“Be right out.”
I lean against the wall, pull the toilet paper from the roll and start dabbing and wrapping every surface of my body. The sweat, there’s too much.
“What the hell would you be plucking right now?” Stacey asks.
“I don’t know; I panicked.”
“Panic about lipstick, not plucking.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say as I continue to dab myself. “Please, fan me. Do something. I’m sweating off my makeup.”
She rolls her eyes, but like the dutiful sister that she is, she grabs the hand towel from the towel rack and starts whipping it in front of my face, shooting bursts of air in my direction.
“Don’t get too close. I don’t need you whipping me in the?—”
Whack.
“Son of a bitch,” I shout, grabbing my eye.
“What happened?” Stacey asks quickly as she lowers the towel to find me wrapped up in toilet paper, leaning against the wall, and clutching my eyeball that I have no doubt at any moment will fall right out of its socket and across the bathroom floor.
“You got me in the freaking eye.”
“Ooof, really? What are the chances?”
“Pretty high, apparently.”
“Hey.” Hudson knocks again. “Are you sure everything is okay in there?”
My God, man. I said I was plucking! Leave a girl to pluck.
“Yup, fine,” I groan and pull my hand away, trying to blink my eye back into its spot. “Just, you know, final touches. Have to look good for my husband.”
