Who We Could Be - Chelsea M. Cameron Page 0,33
I didn’t really talk about sex. With TJ, there just hadn’t been much to talk about in that department. We did it, and that was about it. Most of the time it was nice, and that was as good as it got. I could always do better on my own, but wasn’t that true for everybody?
“I mean, we’ve done some stuff, but never, like, other stuff.” Her entire face, including her ears, were aflame. “It was just a joke, Ford. Calm down.”
I wanted to ask her more, but I honestly didn’t want to hear the answers, so I dropped it. How was it that Tessa and I could talk about literally anything else, but we couldn’t seem to get past this particular topic? Whatever, I didn’t need to think about it.
Instead, I focused on fixing my skirt. Tessa and I took turns changing in the bathroom, like we’d done all week. We hadn’t even discussed it, that was just what we’d always done. When she came out in her jumpsuit, I had to sit down on the bed because my legs stopped holding me up.
“Okay, so can you see my nipples?” She looked down at the neckline, which was, in a word, plunging. “I taped myself in so I think I’m good.” She turned to the side and then back to the front.
Her clavicles and the space between her breasts were visible. She had freckles there, too. I’d seen her in a bathing suit, but this was...entirely different.
“Wait a second, you were going to wear this to my wedding? Like that?” All I could imagine were wardrobe malfunctions and scandalized relatives.
“Hell yeah. For that I was going to use duct tape. And I had this underthing that I could put on at the last minute. But my boobs really look okay?” She looked down again and I was at a complete loss for words.
“You look amazing, Cin,” I said finally. She smiled.
“So do you! Can I get a twirl?” I realized I shouldn’t have sat down with the dress, so I hopped up and looked at the back to make sure the taffeta still looked okay. The petticoat I wore under it fluffed the skirt out so it was perfect for twirls.
I stepped out and did a few turns for Tessa as she clapped.
“Gorgeous. Are you almost ready?”
“Just need to do my hair and makeup,” I said. She rolled her eyes.
“So it’s going to take another hour or so?”
I fluffed out my skirt. “Hey, come on now. It doesn’t take me that long.”
“I’m timing you,” she said.
“Fine, then I’m picking the restaurant,” I called as I looked at my hair in the mirror, wondering what the heck to do with it. Up was best, so I did a few quick braids and pulled everything back into a twist. Not bad.
“You’ve got ten minutes, max,” Tessa called.
“Calm the fuck down!” I yelled as I got out my makeup bag and set everything on the counter.
“Nine minutes and fifty-five seconds!”
“I’m going to strangle you in your sleep if you don’t stop.”
“You can’t strangle me on our bestfriendimoon.”
I took a deep breath and focused on getting my foundation even.
Nine
Tessa
It wasn’t just my imagination that people were staring at Monty. It made sense, because she was fucking gorgeous, and that outfit was perfect for her. I could never pull off something like that. Monty was the kind of person who could wear a shapeless dress and make it look incredible. On me, it would just look like a sack.
I was pretty happy with my own outfit. I’d found it by chance on a rack in the mall and had known it was the perfect thing to wear for her wedding. Now that wasn’t happening, I had to get my use out of it.
Monty selected a moody restaurant with smoky drinks and soft music playing in the background and leather on the chairs.
“After tonight, I’m going to get you to admit I was right,” I said as we scanned our menus.
“We’ll see about that.”
I didn’t really have a plan of what we were going to do after this, but I wanted to find somewhere fun. Maybe a club or something. Nothing too intense, just somewhere we might be able to shake it and get a drink and let loose. So much of what we’d done during the day was historical. There were so many facts in my brain now that I almost wished I could pour some of them out because it was just too