“I’ve wondered about him some through the years, yes. Wondered if he’s married, has kids, became a football star. Not sure how it’d be seeing him again after all this time,” I say to the closet as I take out my dress.
“Not married, no kids, and he played football through college and now works as a college football recruiter,” Donny casually says as if he’s reading it off a notecard.
I spin around, narrowing my eyes at him. “You really are a stalker.”
“No,” he argues pointedly. “We’re Facebook friends, and I might’ve taken an extra interest when we got Lena’s invitation, wondering who else was coming.”
I toss my dress on the bed, then twirl my finger in circles at Donny so he turns around.
“I’ve seen your tits more than I’d like to admit,” he groans but follows orders.
“And I’ve seen your bare ass enough times to need to bleach my eyes, but that doesn’t mean I want to watch you get dressed.”
“Fair point.” He chuckles.
I put on clean panties, a bra, and pantyhose before slipping into my dress. Wearing nice clothes is the norm for my shows and after parties, yet I feel out of my element.
“Zip me, please.” I stand in front of him with my back to his face.
“Suck it in,” he taunts, pretending to struggle with the zipper.
“I’m going to junk punch you,” I retort. “There’s plenty of room, and before you even make a comment, yes, I’m eating at dinner and dessert and probably gonna enjoy happy hour too. Deal with it.”
Donny slaps my ass before I turn around and let him judge my appearance.
“Well sorry. We can’t all have a super metabolism.” He leans back slightly to look over my dress.
“Jealousy is a bad look for you, Don.” I smirk, patting his cheek. “I just need another ten minutes to finish my hair and face. Thirty tops,” I say as I rush to the bathroom sink where my makeup bag exploded.
Donny releases a throaty groan of disapproval, but we still have time before we have to head down.
“Oh my God,” he shrieks moments later. I pop my head out of the doorframe with my lipstick in hand.
“What?” I ask and notice he’s looking at his phone, scrolling through pictures.
“Er, nothing.” He swallows and keeps his eyes down. When I call his full name and give him a look, he finally budges. “He just posted a picture.”
“He’s coming with Veronica Miller.”
Everything freezes and it’s the first time in years I’ve allowed those feelings to resurface. Once I left and broke things off, I buried myself in classes and performances. Barely giving myself enough time to breathe, let alone reminisce about what I was missing, I tried to forget about him.
“Are you sure?” I finally speak.
“Oh yeah. Definitely.”
Veronica Miller. My nemesis. I hated her with every fiber of my being. She taunted me almost every day in high school. With her perfect teeth, bleach blonde hair, and fake tan, she was picture perfect, and guys worshipped the ground she walked on. I had braces, glasses, and acne. It also didn’t help that I didn’t develop until I was seventeen. She made my life miserable.
I swallow around the knife in my throat and shrug. “Well, a lot has changed in ten years.”
Twenty minutes later, we head out, and I shake my nerves down the best I can. I haven’t seen Lena yet since I only flew in yesterday morning, but I already know she’s going to be a stunning bride.
The ceremony is classically beautiful and decorated in black and white. We’re surrounded by flowers, and as the fresh scent hits my nose, I smile at how much work this must’ve taken for her to plan. I wish I’d been able to help out more, but she reassured me her wedding planner had it all under control.
Donny and I find a spot to sit, and by the end of their vows, my eyes are watering with happiness. I focus on the happy couple, not wanting to look around and potentially see him with her. I don’t know how I would handle it.
Lena and her new husband skip down the aisle to the wedding march, and their wide smiles tell how genuinely happy they both are.
Once it’s our turn to walk out, I make a beeline for the bar. “I need a drink,” I tell Donny as soon as he catches up to me.
“You need to relax, babe. There are like three hundred people here. You probably won’t even see him.” I know he’s trying to comfort me, but it’s not helping.
The bartender finally notices me. “Vodka tonic,” I tell him. Donny gives his order, and by the bedroom eyes he just flashed at him, I know there’s going to be another repeat of last night.
“You’re such a whore,” I mutter after we get our drinks, and Donny tips him a ten.