Outside the Lines(7)

Danielle, on the other hand … well, I don’t know. I hope she’s worthy of my brother. I try not to obviously scrutinize her. She teaches sixth grade history here in Mistwood, so I assume the woman has patience to deal with pre-pubescent teens day in and day out. She is petite and pretty, with auburn hair and freckles dotted across her cheeks. They’ve been dating about a year and a half, and got engaged a few months before I took the job in Grand Rapids, making it hard for me to actually get to know her. She’s polite, excitedly talking wedding plans and details with the moms while the guys talked sports.

“Well,” Jake says and stands, giving Danielle a hand up. “You two better get going so you don’t miss your reservation.” His eyes fall on me.

“Where am I going?” I ask, pushing my hair back.

“Dinner,” Jake says, eyebrows raising, giving me a look that says I’m supposed to know this.

“Why me?” I blurt. He did say the two of us, meaning me and Danielle.

“All the bridesmaids are going,” Danielle says with a smile. “And you’re a bridesmaid.”

“Oh,” I say and shake my head. “Okay. Uh, when are we going?” I glance down at my Star Wars leggings and oversized black shirt. My hair had been up and down in a twisted bun all day and was currently hanging in a tangled mess around my makeup-free face.

“We should leave in no more than ten minutes,” Danielle says, voice edging on annoyance.

“I’ll get changed,” I say and stand, hurrying up to my old room. Great. How was I going to get ready in time? I unzip my bag and throw out all the clothes I brought. I hadn’t packed much, since I anticipated lounging around the house, the bridal shower, then going home.

I trade my leggings for dark jeans and the baggy T-shirt for a white tank top. I pull a gray button-up cardigan on, buttoning it halfway as I rush into the bathroom. I splash cold water on my face, dry it, then apply eyeliner, foundation, and mascara as fast as I can. I speed brush my teeth and comb my fingers through my hair. The natural waves are out in full force thanks to the rain and humidity. There’s no hope, so I rake it to the side and braid it. I’m halfway down the stairs before I remember I don’t have shoes, turn around, trip, and scramble to get them.

I make it back down in eight-and-a-half minutes.

“Thanks for going,” Jake says quietly to me and hands me the keys to my Malibu. Apparently, I’m the DD tonight too. “I really want Danny to feel like part of the family.”

I smile. “Of course. I want her to as well. And I don’t know her, so it would be a great way to get to know her.”

Jake beams, his eyes glazing over. Shit, he’s in deep. I broaden my smile, hating that a tiny bit of jealousy rolls around inside me. I want to be in love too. I want to plan a shower and a wedding and have everyone tell me how beautiful I will look in my dress.

Someday.

Maybe.

No.

It will happen.

Ugh.

I grab my purse and lead the way through the garage, unlocking the car. Danielle holds a pink Coach umbrella in one hand, the other on her head to keep her hair from blowing wild. The rain has picked up, and so has the wind.

“Hopefully your wedding day won’t be like this,” I say and get into the car. Danielle closes her umbrella, tucking it down by her feet, and gives me a horrified look. How dare I even mention rain and her wedding day?

“It’s usually nice here in July.” I smile. “So don’t worry.” I mentally curse at myself. Way to start a convo. “So,” I begin. “Do you have pretty much everything done?”

Danielle relaxes against the seat. “Pretty much. I have one final fitting for the dress, but that’s not until a month before the wedding. I’m trying to lose a few more pounds of course.”

I raise my eyebrows and cast a glance at her. She is thin enough already. Why brides always think they had to be model thin … I’ll never know. “I think you look great,” I tell her honestly.

“Thanks,” she says and lets out a breath. “I don’t look like the girl wearing my dress in the magazine ad.”

If possible, my eyebrow hikes even higher. I turn onto the main road and head into town. “You do know those ads are Photoshopped as fuck, right?”

She twists, giving me that same startled look. “Yeah, I’m sure they are a bit.”

I laugh. “Not just a bit. They are a lot. I worked a graphic design job for two whole weeks and was given photos to manipulate the hell out of. I felt evil to all womankind for doing that, hence the quitting. And it didn’t pay well. At all.”

Danielle just nods. “Well, whatever. I still want to look good.”