Page 43 of Bridesmaid to Bride

I groan. “Unfortunately, it does.”

“Let me guess—kids can be cruel assholes.”

“Pretty much.” I lean back, feeling the weight of years press down on me. “Shit, it’s silly.”

“West, honey, if it still has real estate in your head, it’s not silly.” Dior is now licking her hand.

“Right.” I sigh, realizing that the room feels too small.

“Spill it.”

“Okay, okay.” I go to run a hand down my face but stop when I realize it’s been on Balls. “I was fourteen, and I thought, for a second, that I’d broken into the cool club. Boy, was I wrong.”

“I think I know where this is going,” she says, her usual lightness replaced by something fierce.

I launch into the story—one I’ve never told anyone before…

I’m gliding around the roller rink—awkward, wobbly, but still vertical. It’s Friday night, and the place buzzes with angst and hormones. The smell of sweat, cheap pizza, and desperation hangs in the air.

“Watch it, West!” my buddy hollers as I narrowly avoid a collision with a couple making out against the rink wall.

And then I see her. Rebecca Hammond. She’s like a vision from the rom com where the dork gets the hot girl, and everything magically works out. Her blonde hair bounces with each skate stroke. She’s surrounded by her usual posse, the standard hot mean girls.

“Hey, West,” Rebecca says, her voice like sweet tea. I can’t believe she knows my name.

“Uh, hey.” Smooth, West.

“Want to skate a loop?” She tilts her head. The fluorescent lights halo her, and I swear she looks angelic.

“Sure.” I’m trying to play it cool, but inside I’m losing my shit. My palms sweat, and my heart is trying to punch its way out of my chest.

She skates up next to me, and her pinky loops around mine.

I’ve won the fricking lottery.

As we skate, I’m on top of the world. We’re in sync, our skates keeping time with the thumping bass of “Drop It Like It’s Hot.” My mind races ahead. Rebecca Hammond is going to be my girlfriend. I’ll be the king of this little town. Dammit, I might even get invited to parties where they don’t just play Dungeons & Dragons.

When we finish our victory lap, I’m already planning our future—one point five kids, a dog, maybe a cat if she’s into that.

She pulls away, skating over to her friends where I’m sure she’s about to tell them how amazing our skate was. I watch on, smiling, waiting for her to come back and do it again when I see her friends fishing dollar bills out of their pockets.

My heart sinks to my scuffed rental roller skates as the truth hits me.

A bet? A fucking bet?

I’m not getting the girl. I’m just the sideshow entertainment.

The rink is suddenly too bright, the laughter of Rebecca and her entourage harsh. Her voice, all sugar a moment ago, now venom. “Come on, Weirdo West. You didn’t actually think I liked you?” Rebecca’s eyes are cold.

I try to muster bravado, but it’s like trying to catch smoke. “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly my type either,” I lie through my teeth.

“You and all your weirdo sex toys your parents bring home.” Jessica Markowski punctuates each word with a giggle.

My face is a bonfire. The snickers cut through me, a blade finding an old wound and twisting. My parents’ shop might as well be a brothel in our peach-pie town.

“Original,” I snap, though it hangs limp in the air.

One minute I’m on cloud nine with a girl out of my league, and the next I’m the joke at the end of their mean-girl punchline.

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