Текст книги "That Wedding"

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

I'll have to become a nun!!

"Bradley, can you become a nun if you've already had lots of sex?"

"Are we back to religion again? How 'bout I get off early, you come back to my place, and I'll make you say Oh God over and over again."

His long eyelashes bat at me, and he's very hard to resist, for two reasons. One, I can feel that he is, in fact, hard. And two.....um, I forget what two was for. Just as he leans in, I think to kiss me, a kiss I'm going to somehow have to avoid, we hear, "Pizza's here!!!" from the cuties.

Bradley stays pinned against me for a long second. Then he shakes his head at me, throws an apron around the front of him, and walks out front.

I stay pinned against the wall.

And think.

Well, I try to think.

I love Phillip, but is loving him enough? Can I make him happy FOREVER?

Will he get sick of me? Will our relationship fester? Will I smother him?

I don't know any answers, so I go eat pizza.

Chow it.

Oh my gosh, it tastes so good. I even take a piece back behind the bar and let the girls drool while I feed pizza to Bradley. I let the cheese get all stringy and put it on his tongue.

After the pizza, I tell Bradley I'm thirsty for another shot. Bradley tells me I should do one of the special vodka shots, so I do.

Later, I'm over at the pool tables. One of the boys is trying to put a tip into my cleavage when Phillip walks in.

It's like I'm a deer caught in the headlights. I freeze.

Shit.

I feel like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Except in this case, I'm the slutty jar, who's letting everyone put their hands in her.

He gives me that look. That I am probably in trouble look, like you got caught by your dad seriously making out with your boyfriend on the couch after curfew kind of look. I feel like I'm in trouble.

But I haven't done anything wrong.

Have I?

No, I haven't. I'm just helping out a friend, delivering a few drinks.

Phillip doesn't come talk to me or come beat the boy's face in. He calmly sits next to Nick and eats a piece of pizza. I grab the tip out of the boy's hand and go back behind the bar.

"Bradley. Shit! Phillip just walked in, and that guy practically had his hand down my shirt."

"Yeah, I saw that," Bradley says.

"Who's Phillip?" Cutie One asks.

"Her fiancee," Bradley drawls.

"Oh, this is gonna be gooood," Number Two says.

"You're waiting tables. Helping me out. Tell him you were gonna slap the jerk, but you were afraid you'd get me in trouble."

"Philosophers are good liars, huh?"

"We just see all angles of the truth."

"We really should've done more talking."

He laughs, well, he and the cuties laugh, and they say, "Tell us another story."

I walk away and think that the way they're all huddled together, he does.

I go to Phillip.

I figure I'll stay in character, break the ice.

It's all just fun and games.

Plus, you can't get into trouble when it's just fun.

In theory.

"Hey, can I get you a drink?"

"Only if I get to tip you like that guy." He gets up, grabs me, and pulls me in close to his face. I thought he was gonna kiss me, but he says quietly in his deep mad voice, "You're very lucky I didn't go over and rip his hand off." Then he smiles and looks up and down my uniform. "You look damn sexy though. I suppose he couldn't help himself."

"You think I look sexy?"

"I do. So you stopped texting me."

"Oh, I knew there was something I was forgetting! But I couldn't cuz my phone got in an accident."

"Oh, really? An accident?"

"Nicky, show him my phone!" Nick holds up the baggie full of rice and my phone. "See, it's in rehab. Drying out." I laugh. Ha ha ha. I'm verrrryyy funny! I crack myself up! "Get it? Rehab? Drying out??"

"How many shots have you had?"

I run my hand through my hair, thinking. "Uh, I'm not sure. Three, fourish, five, maybe?"

"What are you drinking?"

I give him a taste.

"It's water," he says.

"Oh no, it's water mixed with this special vodka. High quality, top shelf stuff. That's why it's so smooth. You want one?"

"Naw, I think I'll go talk to Bradley. Looks like your pool boys need more drinks."

And then I come up with a brilliant name.

"Kicky Nicky!! Get it? Cuz you're a kicker? And kicky can also mean like fun. And you're always very fun, especially when you take me to the bar. Aren't we having fun?"

"How 'bout we see if you remember it tomorrow?" Nicky says.

"Oh, okay." I go wait on the pool table group while Phillip walks up to the bar.

I realize that Phillip didn't kiss me. That's really not like him. And now, he's sitting at the bar chatting with Bradley, who was just discussing my past sex life with the cuties.

Shit.

I think this calls for an intervention. No wait, I mean, an interruption. I don't know, whatever. I need them to stop their talking!

I walk up to Phillip and wrap my arm around his shoulder. "This is my fiancee."

"We already know that," the cuties reply in unison and give me eat shit grins.

Shit, is right.

Uh, what to say? What to say? Uh.

"Hey, Bradley, let Phillip try that special vodka and maybe one of those special shots too. You know, the one you haven't named yet."

"I just decided on a name, actually," Bradley says. "It's called Sex on the Stairs."

Phillip says, "That's a good name. I will definitely have one of those and a couple more pitchers."

The cuties are snorting with laughter.

I shut my eyes.

I'm freaking dying inside.

Bradley winks at me. "The special vodka is just for you."

"You'll have to text me the name of it, so I can get some. I like drinking vodka that's soooo smoothy woothy."

"Why don't you take these to the pool table group while I make you another one."

I go, come back, and tell Bradley, "They want another pitcher and two more glasses. Oh, and more Jaeger shots. I'm good at up-selling."

Phillip says to the cuties, "Why are you all wet? Was it raining earlier?"

They tell him about my dropping the pitchers. About it raining beer all down their heads. They make it sound like I was just a clumsy klutzy klutz.

I stand up for myself. "I only dropped them cuz I was startled when he smacked my ass!"

Phillip narrow his eyes at the cuties and stands up.

All six-foot-three-inches of prime Nebraska beefcake.

My god, that boy is hot.

I'm feeling a little warm myself. Shots make me kinda horny if I'm completely honest.

He says, "Don't do it again."

The cuties cower slightly. "No problem."

Phillip takes his Sex on the Stairs shot and the pitchers over to the booth.

"Seriously, Bradley? Sex on the Stairs!?!?!?! "

"Yeah, I just decided it was the perfect name. It'll catch on, and baby, you'll be famous, or infamous, something like that."

"I don't wanna be famous," I pout. "I think I'll just go get drunk with my friends."

"I'm pretty sure you're already there."

"Already where? No, I'm not there yet. I was just saying, I'm going to go get drunk with my friends."

"Never mind, but you can't. You're not off work yet. My waitress isn't here."

"I'm just pretending to work. I think you know that."

"Well then, you need to go in back and change, and I better help you. Make sure you get it all off."

"Uh, maybe I'll just keep working."

"Thought so."

I go eat another piece of pizza and pretend wait on Phillip's table.

Phillip gets back up, grabs me, and kisses me deeply.

"You're drunk," he says.

"Not really. Like maybe, sorta."

"And what the hell was Bradley talking about? Your burning bush? Do I even want to know?"

Shit! Why did Bradley have to tell him that? I cover my face with my hand. "Uh, not my, um, uh, I had a dream. I became a burning bush. Literally burst into flames. God was punishing me."

Phillip peeks through my fingers and moves my hand off my face. "For what?"

I make a sad face. Well, I try to. "Um, you."

"Me? What did I do?"

And okay, so I might be a little drunkish. Cuz I usually don't gush over a boy like this unless I'm drunk. "Made me fall hopelessly and irreversibly in love with you," I tell him sweetly.

"So why were you burning?"

"Cuz God thought my being in love with you was against his wishes, I think, and so he burnt me. I was being blasphemousious. Is that a word? No, wait. I was blasphemic. No, that's not it either. Nicky, what is that word?"

"Blasphemous."

I snap my fingers and point at him. "Yeah, that's it. That's what I was. Good job, Nicky."

Nick says, "Yeah, she turned into a," BAHAHAHAHA, "burning bush."

They all start laughing again.

Well, all of them but Phillip. I'm thinking God burning me because I'm in love with him is probably not very reassuring in regard to and concerning our future.

Really, I'm sorta having a hard time thinking exactly, but whatever.

Phillip turns around, grabs his shot. "I think I'm gonna need this." To the guys, he says, "Hey, did Bradley give you guys one of these shots? He says it's something new he came up with. I mean, I've heard of Sex on the Beach before, but never Sex on the Stairs."

Now the boys have the deer in the headlight look. They freeze and watch Phillip throw back the shot.

He says, "Damn, that was good."

"So we've heard," Nick says slyly and arches an eyebrow at me.

Shit.

Thankfully, Phillip changes the subject. "Okay, so back to God. I think you're having bad dreams because you're nervous about marrying me. Are you nervous about marrying me?"

"Uh, I don't think so. I'm doing great on the planning, and I've been having fun with it. We're planning THE BEST PARTY! Right?"

"Yeah, but it's more than a party, right?"

"Yes, and so that's why I came to the bar after the museum. To talk to Nicky. To see if I'm having like a premonition or something. I mean, you don't want me to burst into flames at our wedding. It would sorta ruin the event."

He chuckles. "Well yeah, it probably would put a damper on things."

"I'd watch out for lightening if I were you, Phillip. Oh hey, I gotta go work. The cuties are yelling for me."

"The cuties?"

"Oh yeah, Cutie One and Cutie Two. I don't know their names."

"Bradley seems to be awfully cool about this. Is he hitting on you?"

"I don't think so."

"JJ," he warns.

"Uh, no, well, I don't know. Nicky, has Bradley been hitting on me?"

"Definitely flirting. No, that's not right, he said if you wanted to hookup, he had no problem with that," Nick tells us.

"So, you know, not really," I say.

"I see."

"Why are you here anyway? It's a long drive just for beers."

The cuties wave their empty mugs and yell at me.

"Shit, hold that thought. I think they want me to do a shot with them."

"How many shots have you had again?"

"Uh, Nicky? We had two when we got here, right? I had a special one, and, uh, maybe a couple more mixed in there somewhere, but I mean I've been here for like hours, and I had rice in a baggie and some pizza. It's not like I'm drunk."

He looks at me. Gives me that glare. That tell me the truth glare. You know the one, the one that makes me spill my guts to him. Always.

"Fine, I might be tipsy. Maybe a little drunkish. I can feel it, but you know, I'm fine. Pretty much fine."

"I don't think you should do any more shots."

"Oh my gosh, Phillip, I'm earning tips here."

"If that guy puts another tip down your shirt, I'm pounding him. Just saying."

I go up to the cuties. "Jeeze, what? You have no patience."

"We're empty. Bradley said you have to wait on us. We think Bradley might be jealous."

"Bradley?"

"Hey, you wanted a job. Just making sure you do it. What did Phillip think of the shot?"

"He said it was really good."

Bradley winks at me. "Yeah, baby, it was."

"You should totally do it with the bartender again. He wants you," Cutie One says.

"You're just taking his side, so you can get free drinks. Can I get you a drink?"

"A couple shots for us and one for you too."

I turn and tell Bradley, "Three shots, please."

"You can't have any more shots."

I love how boys think they can tell me what I can and can't do.

"Why not?"

"You're working. I can't have you any drunker than you already are."

"What did you say to Phillip? Or what did he say to you?"

"Just guy talk."

"Guys don't talk, they threaten."

"No, he didn't really. He's cool. Unfortunately, I like the guy. I was just telling him about your special vodka."

"Oh, good. He can buy me some for home."

"I think he already has some at home."

The cuties giggle.

"What?" I ask the cuties.

"Nothing," they reply.

Bradley says, "So what did you decide? You coming home with me tonight?"

I start to feel sad. I feel like my fun single life is ending. It's like the end of an era. And I want the era to end. I want to marry Phillip, but I don't know if he should want to marry me. If he was smart, he wouldn't.

I get little prickly tears in my eyes. "Phillip wants to marry me. I don't know why he does. Look at me."

Bradley takes the opportunity to do just that. His eyes slowly survey every inch of my body. I want to tell him I meant look at me, like, I'm a mess. I wasn't telling him to actually look at me.

When he works his way back up to my eyes, he says, "You're fun. Maybe you should ditch him, start a relationship with me."

"Relationships are like a disease, Bradley. You should think twice before you go getting into one. Did you know if you're not careful, they will fester on you, infect you, and smother you. Then I'm pretty sure you die."

"If you feel that way, maybe God was trying to tell you something. In fact, if you listen really hard, he will probably say, Go home with Bradley tonight."

To which the cuties raise their voices high and both whisper, "Go home with Bradley tonight. Go home with Bradley tonight."

"See. God just spoke to you," Bradley smirks.

"I'm not that drunk," I tell the cuties.

Bradley pulls me toward the other side of the bar, away from the cuties. "What's all this about festering and infections?"

The tears start to fall now, and I can't even stop them because the idea of me and Phillip's relationship dying makes me really sad. It's the whole reason I'm here. Plus, I might be drunk. "Pastor told us that would happen to our relationship because we solve our conflicts with sex."

"Don't cry, baby. Sex sounds like a fun way to solve a conflict."

I cry a little harder. "I know, but it's wrong, and so we're failing couple's counseling. I've never failed anything, Bradley. But I am. And our wedding is going be a disaster. Our guests will catch fire, be eaten by crocodiles, I'll be pulled into the pits of hell because they don't like my dress, my veil is going to burn, and I'll run away with a fireman who looks just like Phillip, straight down to his abs."

Bradley says, "I think you should go change now."

I sniffle. "Okay."

I go in the back, change, and try to compose myself. When I come back out, Bradley has a special vodka shot for me. He toasts, "Here's to good memories and a happy future. Your wedding is going to be amazing. None of those things are going to happen, I promise. Now, go sit with your fiancee."

So I do.

Phillip takes me home. We don't have sex on the stairs because my condo does not have stairs. But I'm drunk enough to be feeling quite naughty, and Phillip doesn't seem to mind that at all.

I have the kind of massive headache that comes from mixing alcohol.

And sixty-eight dollars worth of tips in my coat pocket.

I really should know better than to mix alcohol like that.

Phillip is a sweetie. He took the day off with me. He's been watching movies while I sleep with my head on his lap.

I think maybe I was just scared.

There's no way God could not be Team Phillip.

It's just too right.

I think.

I'm still worried about what my head thinks though.

Shit. We were supposed to meet with Pastor last night. "Phillip, we skipped couple's counseling!"

"It's okay, I called and rescheduled for tomorrow night. Told him you got called out of town."

"Oh, thank you!"

"Although, I think we need to talk about what last night was all about."

"What do you mean?"

He shakes his head at me. "Princess, I know you. Last night was one of your spiraling out of control nights. Well, it could've been, had I not been there, and Bradley wasn't surprising cool."

"Oh, I need to check my phone. He was supposed to text me the name of that vodka. It was the smoothest stuff I've ever tasted!"

Phillip was taking a drink of beer as I uttered these words, and he literally spit sprayed beer back out of his mouth, all over the coffee table and my head. Now, he's laughing.

"What about vodka is so funny?"

He tries to control his laughter as he blurts out, "It was so smooth..........because, because....hahahahahahahahaha. Oh, I'm sorry, but it's just quite funny." He laughs some more.

"Never mind, Phillip."

I'm sorry, but he's being a bit of a jerk about it.

I get up and look for my phone. At some point last night, Phillip took it out of the rice bag. Thanks to Bradley's quick trick, my phone was rehabilitated. Thing powered right up.

There's a text from Bradley.

Hotass bartender:  You ever need a job, I will totally hire you and sexually harass the shit out of you.

Phillip is still snickering and pissing me off, so I figure what the hell and text him back.

Me:  I may be looking for both soon. Last night was fun. Thanks for letting me play waitress, reviving my phone, and introducing me to that vodka. What is the name of it?

Hotass bartender:  It wasn't vodka, baby. It was just plain water. You were drinking too much, and I was afraid if you got too drunk you might do something with me you would've regretted. And call me callous, but I would not have resisted.

I look over at Phillip, who's still trying not to laugh every time he looks at me.

Me:  Let me guess, you told Phillip about the vodka?

Hotass bartender:  Yeah.

Me:  He thinks it's hilarious.

Hotass bartender:  He's laughing at you?

Me:  Yes :(

Hotass bartender:  Do you recall that he drank a shot named Sex on the Stairs last night?

Me:  yeah....

Hotass bartender:  You win.

Me:  You're the best bartender ever! And thanks for saving my phone!

Hotass bartender:  You're welcome, baby. Don't be a stranger, okay? And Phillip's the right guy for you. Stop freaking out.

Me:  Thanks, Bradley.

Hotass bartender:  Anytime, and I mean ANY time ;)

I stop texting and say to Phillip, "So I get it, he made me think the water was some kind of amazing special vodka. Laugh all you want, but I think it was sweet of him."

I decide I really don't feel like talking to Phillip right now. "I'm gonna go take a shower. Get ready for dinner."

"Oh, good. I need a shower too. I'm very dirty," he raises his eyebrows at me.

For the first time in our relationship, I can honestly say that I have no desire to have sex with Phillip.

"Uh, I think I'd rather take a shower alone." I don't give him a chance to reply. I just walk in the bathroom and lock the door.

And in the shower, I'm thinking.

I'm thinking that I may have to lie. I'm gonna have to pretend to my friends that everything is fine with Phillip. That I can't wait to marry him, and how we'll have a happy and loved-filled life.

Truth is, I'm thinking maybe God really was trying to tell me something in my dream. I'm not sure I should marry Phillip.

What if I'm just overwhelmed right now with the surprising fact that sex with Phillip is amazing? And that's overshadowing the fact that life with Phillip is not going to be as easy as I think.

Pretty soon, I find myself crying in the shower. I don't know why I'm crying. I just feel sad. Helpless. Confused. Scared.

Alone.

Very alone.

I calm myself down, wash my hair, get out of the shower, and get ready.

Phillip's pouting about the no sex in the shower. He keeps looking at me kinda funny. I can't decide if he's sad or pissed. Finally he says in a very flat tone, "Amy called while you were in the shower."

"Oh, I'll call her back."

"You don't need to. She called me since you didn't answer."

"What'd she want?"

"She said we should have a little celebration today." Phillip's words are saying that we should have a celebration, but his face doesn't look like he's in the mood for any kind of celebrating. In fact, he's looking like he wishes he would've told her the wedding is off.

"Why's that?"

"She got our ceremony programs, menu, and reception cards back from the printer. Only ten more days."

"Uh, yeah. I'm gonna go grab some shoes, and then we better get going. We don't want to be late."

While I'm grabbing an adorable pair of leopard heels with red trim that I'm hoping will put me in a better mood, I'm trying not to freak.

Ten more days!!!

Ten more days??

I feel sick.

It's okay. Everyone says don't freak.

I'm trying. Really, I am.

Deep breath.

No, that won't work. I can't breathe right now. I may be having a heart attack.