Page 36 of This

Keaton and I share an end of the couch with the other two in the beanbags. It shocks me to the core that Keaton hasn’t insisted on buying more furniture. She finishes eating and disappears into the kitchen to reorganize the fridge, unsatisfied with the way Liam and I shoved all the leftovers in.

“So,” Dane says from his bag to Liam’s, “because you bribed Bennett to come back a week early to go wedding dress shopping, we now have to find our tuxes tomorrow instead of in January, like we planned?”

“Yep.” Liam shovels a forkful of pasta into his mouth.

“Because it somehow messes with the timeline?”

Mouth full, he nods. “Mmhmm.”

“Exactly how does the math work out on that?”

Liam points the fork between the kitchen and me. “Ca-ray-zay. Math doesn’t have to math for them, dude.”

Dane glances up at me and mouths,Ca-ray-zay.

I shrug.

If he hasn’t figured out how right Liam is by now, there’s no hope for him.

At midnight, I light the jasmine candle I spent forty bucks on from the boutique for Keaton to blow out. She squeals again at thetwooutfits she pulls out of the bag. Dane wipes a hand over his mouth, hiding a smile. He leaves shortly after when Liam starts heavily hinting that he wants Keaton to go to bed. Once their bedroom door latches, I sneak out to the hallway where Dane is leaning against the wall. I say we should go inside, he says his truck, so we split the difference. We stay there and make out like a couple of high schoolers. It’s one of the better days I’ve had in Phoenix in a long time.

When Keaton and I finallybegin functioning as humans in the morning, we have enough time to lunch and make our appointment at the dress studio—studio becauseevery dress is art.I snap a picture of one of the mannequins, lipstick drawn on a featureless face, no arms, and in an ivory dress with gold threading throughout. I send it to Aria.

Haunting,she texts.Beauty in the incomplete.

I smile, deciding I like that.

A few minutes later, I get a slightly different take on the subject.

Steve:Dafuq? They call that art? Delusional.

The dresses are beautiful though, only a few of each made. Keaton seems intimidated, so I offer myself as a sacrificial lamb and try on a variety of bridesmaid dresses. She chooses a few different styles and settles on a color, and once she’s warmed up, there’s no stopping her from sorting through rack after rack of bridal gowns.

I watch her twirl on the riser and help hold up different veils, but when she walks out inthedress, I don’t even bother getting out of my chair.

“That’s it.”

“It is,” she whispers. Then she starts gnawing at her fingernails. “So, I only pulled dresses in my budget at first, but when I saw this one, I grabbed it, thinking if I liked it, I could find something similar—”

“How much?” I ask.

“Hmm?” She has a wild look in her eyes like she might bolt with the dress on. Being her best friend and maid of honor, it will fall on me to block for her if any bitch tries to stop her, so I’d rather she not.

“How much out of budget, Keats?”

She hesitates, nail between her teeth. “Two thousand.”

Silence. So quiet she hears my swallow.

“OhmyGod, Bennie, it’s perfect though.” She picks up the skirt and rushes to the dressing room.

I catch up as she digs her phone out of her purse on the bench.

“Liam built in some wiggle room in case we need it, but I’m not sure how much.” She holds the phone up to her ear, chewing her finger again.

I give her a few minutes to sweet-talk him and pretend to look at jewelry.

It turns out, I give her a few minutes too long.

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