Theresa kicks her feet up next to me on the seat, taking the daintiest bites possible, while I’m seconds away from nose-diving into the raspberry sauce.
“You should propose, like, a once-a-month deal.”
“I can’t do that,” I say around the soft cream-cheese goodness. Do they make this stuff with hormone drugs? “He’ll totally rub it in. And seriously, this was your idea. Why are you not backing me up?”
“Oh come on. I have flimsy ideas all the time. Like you.”
She’s got to be kidding me.
I. Am. Not. Flimsy!
Sure, I went into theater classes and quit that.
And I spent exactly two days learning piano.
And maybe I try diets for about twenty seconds before I see a burger I must devour.
But that’s normal. I can stick to my guns when I want to.
“Well, I’m fine,” I say, wiping my finger across my now-empty plate. “I can stand another three and a half months. It’s not even that bad, really. And I can commit, damn it. I’m getting married. Do flimsy girls get married? Hell no! So if I want to wait to hump my crazy sexy fiancé into oblivion, I will do it! I’ll show you guys Elizabeth Fanning is not a flake!”
Theresa’s mouth is wide open, slight smile in the corners, and her palms are up.
“Okay, Liz. Step away from the fork.”
I breathe heavy, looking down at my hand clutching my utensil like I’m about to gouge the next person who walks by. Several patrons are looking at me—a pair of old ladies are giggling and winking. A couple of freshmen from NYU stare blatantly at my boobs. And a mother covers her ten-year-old’s ears.
“Oh, balls,” I say, dropping the fork and resting my forehead in my hands. “What is happening to me?”
“Eat more chocolate.” Theresa shoves her plate toward me.
“You can’t have sex with chocolate.”
“You can, but it gets messy.”
An image of Landon covered in Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup plants itself in every thought recess, and suddenly I’m adding whipped cream, raspberries, and my legs clench together under the table.
“Damn it. You’re supposed to be helping me.”
“Oh!” She slaps her hands on the table, jolting me in my seat. “Let’s find your dress!”
“It’s depressing enough with my lady bits on lockdown. Now you want me to go look at gorgeous dresses I can’t afford.”
“Don’t think about it. Let’s just browse.”
Even though it’s probably the last thing that’ll help my terrible sex-deprived, penny-pinching body, I let her drag me from the booth and out to the car. She taps on her Google Maps app, and I sit in the front seat, contemplating the many ways I could cheat and relieve some of the pressure.
But I’ve never been a good liar. Landon would see right through my satisfied face…and the fact that I’m not snapping at him every time he says…well, anything.
“There’s a place about twenty minutes away.”
“Whatever.”
“Geez, I’m buying you more chocolate.”
She pulls into a gas station and gets me a huge Symphony Bar, and I jam it into my purse. I’ll save it for after I look at every dress that is so out of my budget.
We pull up to a shop with sleek black and white paneling, and I give Theresa a look that I know I should feel bad about, but I’m too “unbearable” to care. There is no way I’ll be able to afford anything inside those doors.
“Make sure your left hand is front and center,” she says as we hop out of the car. I twist my ring, liking the extra weight, and for two seconds I feel like my normal self. Until we walk in and see one—and only one—rack that says, ON SALE! DRESSES UNDER $999.99.
I’m going to need a bigger candy bar.
—
Theresa covers her huge grin, eyes lingering up and down the bodice of this unbelievably beautiful dress I told her she’s not allowed to like because the tag says, “$First Born Child.”
“It’s hideous,” she lies.
“I knew I shouldn’t have tried it on.” I’m never going to take it off. My fingers tumble down my stomach, over the satin, the lace, the red flowery seams. “Maybe they’ll take a Starbucks card.”
“You’ll just have to save up for it.”
“That and everything else.”
Theresa fixes the veil atop my head, gently admiring the tiny red flowers jeweled along the hem. I flick my gaze back and forth between my best friend and this gown I’ve only seen in my wildest dreams. It makes me look like I’ve been dropped from the heavens. I could be plastered on magazines titled “Goddesses Do Exist!” I don’t want to take off this magical material that has transformed the unbearable shrew into the fairest of them all.
And my ass! It’s never looked so awesome.
“Oh, wow,” I hear behind me, and I look over my shoulder to a dimply woman with wild brown hair gazing admiringly at me on my tiny pedestal. “That dress is gorgeous on you.”
And if I hadn’t gone bat crazy before, I do now, slamming my face into my hands and shouting through muffled sobs, “I know!”
Theresa holds on to my shoulders, and I see through my fingers her making a lack-of-money gesture at this poor woman who is now witness to my mental breakdown.
“Goodness, I’m sorry,” she fumbles, adjusting the bright green bridesmaid dress over her arm. “I understand, though. When I got married I had to wear the cheapest gown I could find. It wasn’t the one I wanted, but if it’s any consolation, out of all the things that happened that day, the second-best dress was the least of my problems.”
Oh, that’s just fabulous. My shoulders heave as another wave of crazy sobs cascade through my body. The lady starts waving her hands as if she didn’t mean to make things worse, but sweet mother of pearl, what else am I to expect on what is supposed to be the most epic day of my life?
Theresa continues to rub my arms, trying to calm me down, but there is no way in hell that it’s going to happen. I need Landon. I need cuddles. I need touchy-touchy kissy-kissy.
The woman takes a step toward me, bends down, and fixes the long train. “Did you get this in the winter department?”
Theresa nods for me, grabbing a conveniently placed box of tissues on a table near the mirrors.
“When’s your date?”
I clear my throat, take a Kleenex, and dab at my nose. “January fifteenth.”
Her face brightens. “Well, if you’re not in a hurry…this store always does a winter sale. Every winter bride gets a discount, and all winter dresses are marked down. So knock a couple zeroes off the tag. If the dress is still here, that’s probably what it’ll cost.”
I blink a few times, stare at her as if she’s gone crazy with me. But she just gives me an awkward smile.
“Seriously?” I croak.
She nods. “It’s a way for them to clean out their winter stuff so the spring line can come in. My sister-in-law wanted a fifteen-hundred-dollar dress, waited a couple weeks for the sale, and got it for five hundred.”
I grasp onto Theresa to keep from falling off the pedestal.
“It’s a long shot…the dress may not be here, but it may be worth the wait if it is.”
My eyes narrow, because this all sounds too easy, too convenient, too much like she’s spouting bull to make up for making me cry.
“You’re not just trying to get this dress for yerself, are ya?” Suddenly the Georgia accent I’ve sort of lost over the past few years comes back, and I’m pointing an accusing finger at her. “Tell me this so I don’t buy it, then ya’ll come in and swipe it from under my nose.”
Her big eyes widen with equal amusement and confusion. She looks to Theresa, who’s laughing her ass off and I don’t know why.
“You’ll have to forgive the bride-to-be. She’s a little on edge.”
The lady chuckles. “Yes, I remember what it was like.” She wiggles her ring finger at me, and sitting next to her engagement diamond is a wedding band. M
y stance relaxes, I blink, then I’m diving in to hug this woman I don’t know just because I’ve done near lost my mind…and I’m still talking and thinking in a thick Southern accent I haven’t used since I was in Gone with the Wind my freshman year at NYU.
“Thank you, ma’am. You’ve saved my awful day, you have.”
As soon as I let her go, she sputters out a “You’re welcome” and shuffles off. I turn to Theresa with a squeal.
“First duty for you as maid of honor…we are going to do nightly voodoo rituals, pray our brains out, participate in rain dances or chants, or whatever we can to make this my dress. We will get it during that sale!”
“You got it, boss.” She laughs and helps me back up on the pedestal. I twist and turn in the mirror, feeling lighter than I have all day. Theresa steps up next to me, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Even though I don’t ever want to get married…I’m pretty jealous of you right now.”
“Because you haven’t found your Landon yet?”
She shakes her head and leans it against my temple. “Because you look happy. It’s adorable.”
“It’s the dress.” I clutch onto her waist. “Let’s go find yours!”
“Do you even know what colors you’re going with?”
“Nope. But if I get this dress, probably red and black.” I pause, letting the image of those colors sink into my wedding fantasies. Red and black drapes, white accents, snow falling outside big windows. I could have a red rose bouquet with black lilies…oh! And tiny jeweled snowflakes spread in the flowers.
“That’d be gorgeous,” she says, and I wonder how much of my fantasy I said out loud.
“Okay, so red bridesmaid dress it is.” I hop down from the pedestal, lift the dress, and start walking to the racks.
“You’re not going to change?”
“I’m going to stay in this thing as long as possible.”
But it turns out you’re not allowed to just walk around in the dress unless you plan on putting a deposit down or walking out the door with it. To my dismay, I have to strip out of the best thing to ever drape itself over my body and back into my jeans and off-shoulder tee. I’m pouty again until I see Theresa in a hilarious number that makes her look like a cupcake from a Tim Burton movie. Landon would love it, but she threatens to announce in her maid-of-honor speech that I have a regrettable tattoo that says YOLO right by my crotch. Only she, Landon, and my ob-gyn know about that tattoo, and I’d like to keep it that way, so I let her try on something else.
After several dresses, and none that are awesome enough to even think about, I try on THE dress one more time, dance around, take pictures, and act out vows until they kick us out to close up. I eat half my Symphony Bar on the way back to the apartment. The other half I wait to start shoveling down till after I’ve thanked Theresa for excelling in her MOH duties for the day and she’s inside her door.
“Oh, sweet balls,” I say to the candy. Hershey, you know exactly what buttons to press. I lick the melted stuff from my fingers and dance in the hallway and unlock the door. Theresa was right. All I needed was some chocolate, orgasm cheesecake, and dress shopping. Sex is the last thing on my mi—
“Hey, babe.” Landon’s voice comes out with a slight musical tune, and I stay frozen in the doorway, staring at his bare chest, his flexed abs, his V, down his hips to his one pair of boxer briefs. He’s sporting a giant bulge, and the ruling lord over the Land of Liz peeks from the waistband as if to say “Hey, babe” as well.
As beautiful as Landon’s body is, it’s not the almost nakedness of him that has me clutching my Symphony Bar. It’s the basket of folded laundry on the table, the smell of cleanser emanating from the bathroom, and the spotless sink he’s currently wiping with a rag.
The Land of Liz should expect a rainy forecast.
“How was your day?” he asks with a wide grin. Damn him, damn him, damn him! I fumble with the chocolate wrapping, shove a large wedge into my mouth, and muffle out a “Great!” Ugh, this candy is doing nothing. I quickly move my gaze and try to find something to turn me off, get me mad, do something, but there aren’t any socks on the floor.
No socks.
Where are his socks?
“Liz?”
“Yearmmhuh?”
“I ordered dinner. I hope that’s all right.”
Dinner. Sweet. Oh so sweet. Clean apartment. Dinner. Half-naked fiancé.
I shove another piece of chocolate in my mouth.
Dinner. Money. Dinner equals money. Money we don’t have. Money. Yes. That’s bad. Bad Landon. He’s not sexy at all. Nope.
The water in the sink shuts off. I hear him move closer to me. Back off, you animal!
“I got a deal from the guy who usually caters for the set. Hope that’s okay. I spent less than ten for delivery, and I checked the account to make sure we won’t overdraft.”
There is not enough chocolate in the world for this.
Strong hands hover over my waist but don’t touch. Minty breath cascades across the skin on my neck.
He brushed his teeth. It’s five in the afternoon, and he brushed his teeth.
“It should be here soon,” he says. “I’m taking the night off from work, so you want to watch a movie with me? Or I could hook up the emulator and we can play old school Mario. I know you love that one.” I hear the smile in his voice, the tease, the flirt, and he’s not even saying anything erotic. But I’m melting into a puddle on our vacuumed floor.
I start licking the candy wrapper.
He laughs, and that’s when it clicks through the horny haze. He’s getting back at me for the prop room and playing dirty.
I pull my tongue from the wrapping and slowly turn around with narrowed eyes. There it is. His I-swear-I’m-innocent smile. My mouth pops open, no words form, but lots of obscenities are going on in my head. So he wants to play. Then play we shall.
His eyebrow rises, just slightly, and I echo his stance.
“Sure.” I toss the wrapper over his shoulder, aiming for the garbage can but seriously doubting I made it, and then I tuck my fingers in the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head. “But let me shower first.”
I give him the same “innocent” smile he’s giving me, widen it when I see his gaze drift over the push-up secret I share with Victoria, and make sure I get as close as I can without touching as I move around him.
“I’ll set stuff up,” he says after my retreating figure. His voice is steady, but it croaks on the last word when I shimmy my jeans off and reveal my thong. That’s right. Two can play, and I’m betting on the one who doesn’t have to spend all day cleaning to win.
Chapter 14
3:12.
In the freaking morning. I haven’t had an ounce of sleep.
Landon shifts next to me, wheezing out a frustrated growl. He gives me the butt, twisting in the sheets. It’s hot in here. I toss the comforter off my upper body and kick and curse and fight the urge to smack Landon’s elbow when it just grazes my arm.
We don’t talk to each other, but we’ve both been awake since we crawled into bed. After playing a sexual battle all night, the striptease just the tip of the iceberg, we gave up and slumped down on the mattress. I don’t know about him, but I keep thinking of ways to sneak into Chocolateville without losing.
My fingers inch up my thigh. Stop that, you wicked things! I smack my hand, sit straight up, and jam them both under my ass. I bury my face in my knees and try to think of the least sexy things imaginable.
My parents. Talk of parents is never allowed in bed. Landon set that rule the first night I moved in. I had crawled under the sheets, he crawled under too, he was kissing my knees and biting up my thighs, and I said, “I can’t believe we’re living together.”
“Shh, no talking,” he teased from under the covers. I playfully trapped his head between my knees.
“This is monumental. You might have lived with the opposite sex before, but this is new to me.”
He chuckled. “If you mean my mom and
my sister, then, yes, you would be correct.”
Something jerked in my brain with that, and I laughed to myself, getting extremely giddy as he nibbled his way to my inner thighs.
“My mom’s going to freak.”
He paused, and my mouth kept going.
“I don’t even know how to tell her I’m living with someone. She hasn’t met you. All she knows is I’m totally crazy about you. Are you telling your parents? Or is that not something you tell your parents? They’re bound to find out, right? What if they ‘pop in’? I know they live in Philadelphia, but still…they could show up and expect Jace, and whoops, it’s me instead. I’ll call my mom tomorrow even if I get shit for it and you talk to your—”
“Lizzie?” Landon said, peeking from the covers. He trapped my lips between two fingers. “Never talk about my parents in bed.”
“But—”
“No.”
“But—”
“Never.”
“But…you started it.”
He shook his head and let go of my lips. “I’m ending it, too.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I joked, and he proceeded to tickle me silly. No talk of parents ever crossed the bedsheets again. But I’m seriously considering it now.
“Botflies.”
“What?” I muffle into my pajama bottoms. Landon sits up next to me, the screen on his phone lit.
“We’re watching bot fly videos.”
He holds the phone out and hits play. Two seconds in I’m already cringing.
“Eww. Why—”
“Because I need some damn sleep.”
I flick my gaze to his face, dark circles in the light of his phone, bloodshot eyes, and hair an adorable mess. His shirt is twisted, and the waistband of his boxers is so wrinkled it looks as if he’s been fisting them all night just to keep his hands under control. A sleepy laugh pours from my mouth. I tuck under his arm, keep my hands to myself while he keeps his on his phone in front of us, and we watch disgusting bot fly YouTube videos until the sexual tension dissipates. Only thing is…I still want to touch him, even after the mood is broken.
Tomorrow I’ll get him to cave. But tonight, I’ll settle for the draw.