falling in love in an empty theater

Chapter Four

"So, what? He takes you on this amazing date, doesn't even bother to kiss you, drops you off at home and goes ghost for three days?"

"Thank you, Luce, for repeating exactly what I just said." I pretended to be interested in the delicate lace that covered my arms, before smoothing out the fabric that clung to my hips. I didn't bother looking in the mirror - white never suited me.

"I just don't get it. He seemed like he was super into you."

"Yeah, well, clearly he wasn't as smitten as I thought."

"What's hardest to believe is that he hasn't tried to sleep with you, yet. Who does this guy think he is? I mean, look at you!" Lucy waved her hands erratically. "If you can't even get some, what does that mean for the rest of us?"

"Can we please focus, now? I don't want to be thinking about Carter Bishop while trying on wedding dresses."

Xan glanced up from her phone with a frown, giving me a once-over. "I don't like it. Too virginal."

I spared a look down at the dress. I could deal with my chest being covered, but was it really necessary to have my arms wrapped up like a mummy, too? What is the world coming to?

"Agreed," Lucy bit her lip. "Maybe you should shoot him a text? He's probably, like, super busy with band stuff."

"I know that Carter is hot and all, but let's not forget about Mateo. You know, my fiance? The one who's paying for whichever very expensive dress I pick out?"

Xan shrugged, but Lucy looked at me with guilt. Her eyes said everything - things she had already spoken out loud, that I'd always brushed off. I shouldn't be marrying a man I didn't love for the sake of security. But I already made it this far. The venue and band were booked, the cake ordered, the invitations sent out. The only thing I had left to do was pick out a damn dress, and out of the six shops we went to over the last few months, not a single one had a gown that I liked.

Maybe that was symbolic for something.

"You should try on that slinky one," Xan offered. "With the spaghetti straps."

I gave my bridesmaids a tight-lipped smile and turned around, closing the curtain to the dressing room. The lace frock fell to my ankles in a frumpy pile, and I stepped out of it with a grimace. They were right - it was far too virginal. All of the dresses were; too white, too pure, made for someone who was marrying the love of their life. Not for someone like me.

The silk number Xan picked out was slightly better, though. It stuck to me like a second skin, draping in all the right ways. I decided that if it was cut shorter, it was something I might've worn out to an elaborate party. Or in the bedroom on my honeymoon.

"I like this one," I said, flinging open the sheet. Luce gasped, always the one for theatrics, and Xan managed to tear her eyes from her phone long enough to give me a smug, I-told-you-so grin.

"It's perfect," Luce confirmed. "Mateo will love it. It's the one, Will, definitely."

Mateo would hate it, I wanted to say, but I kept my mouth shut. Sure, he wanted a fairytale wedding, and he would get one - all twinkling lights and roses, like something out of a magazine. But he hadn't chosen me to be the one standing at the altar with him for my modesty and romanticism. He had picked the girl with the stilettos and leather skirt, the one that didn't know how to dress on her first day of work. He had picked the girl who drank her weight in Cosmos, not the one that sipped champagne and gazed at him lovingly during the reception.

It didn't matter that he'd been trying to train me to be the perfect wife. I wasn't some wild horse he could break. I was Wilhelmina Winifred Williams, and if I had to marry him, I was going to wear a skin-tight silk dress that urged a sign of the cross out of his Catholic mother at the sight of me walking down the aisle.