HER TOY 18+

Bachelorette

Sunlight peeked through Kitty’s balcony window and bounced off of the champagne-colored helium balloons. After picking up the cheerful steamers and penis-shaped party favors with Jade in her sedan, I dreamt of crawling back into bed and eating Cheetos until early the next morning.

Unfortunately, that was off the table.

Sarah bounced around me with energy that I had only seen in puppies and sugar-high children. Her green wrap-dress was pulled tight around her waist and drew all the attention in the room to her. Guests for the bachelorette party had started arriving shortly after we finished decorating and congregated throughout the apartment.

I leaned towards Kitty and referenced to the growing crowd, “This doesn’t qualify as a fire-hazard?” My hair fell over the curve of my shoulders and down to the end of my back. I hadn’t considered cutting it until the prospect of change started to seem alluring.

“No,” She replied with a half-concerned expression taking over her sharp features, “Not yet at least.”

Jade laughed, “As long as no one lights someone else’s hair on fire we’re fine.”

I laughed at the idea but stranger things had happened with a group of Cherries gathered in one place. But for once, we were all on our best behavior. Our outfits covered the majority of our bodies and no one was offering to wax another girl in the bathroom.

It wasn’t every day that one of us got tied the knot, after all.

Sarah beamed and welcomed each of the girls who walked through the door. In the past few months, I had quickly learned about the level of detail that went into weddings. There seemed to be little room for error and I was thankful to have a minimal role in the planning. Kitty, however, wasn’t so lucky.

Being related to the groom meant indentured servitude. The more I observed the phenomenon, the more grateful I was for Tristan and Tracy’s courthouse wedding.

“I feel so underdressed,” I stared down at my faded jeans and compared them to the semi-formal outfits surrounding me. Even Jade had slipped on a tight skirt and blouse. Why could I never get the memo?

“I may have something,” Kitty snapped her attention away from the horde of women taking over her apartment, “If it’d make you more comfortable.”

I agreed, knowing that I would just become increasingly more insecure with each new arrival. I followed Kitty through the kitchen and into the coatroom, formerly known as her bedroom. A pile of jackets and sweaters waited for their owners on Kitty’s bed. She opened the closet doors; they held tons of neutral pinks and nude tones.

“So what are we aiming for, exactly?” Kitty asked as she shuffled through the many options.

I glanced down at my current outfit and sighed, “Anything that isn’t denim.”

“So no denim pantsuits then?” Kitty teased before pulling out an electric blue skirt. I scrunched my nose.

“Isn’t that Sarah’s color?”

Kitty handed me the skirt and a white top, “There’s no monopoly on color choices. Besides, it’ll give you a chance to envision yourself in your bridesmaid dress.”