Page 23 of She Used to Be Nice
Morgan darted her eyes back and forth between Avery and Blair. Avery could see the wheels turning in Morgan’s head as she tried to figure out how to diffuse the tension, which could be sliced with the mini foil cutter knife sticking out of the wine bottle opener on the coffee table. Avery busied herself by grabbing three glasses from the kitchen and opening the wine. Blair was the one who gossiped the most about how Avery had cheated on Ryan, not only within their friend group after Blair heard about it from Viraj but with the whole lacrosse team as well. Avery wasn’t naive enough to think Viraj wouldn’t have told anyone if it weren’t for Blair, but maybe he wouldn’t have made it this huge dramatic thing. Blair, meanwhile, loved to talk shit. Things weren’t the same between Blair and Avery after that.
Morgan flashed a pained grin. “We’re just browsing through some bridal magazines and looking at dresses. Sit, Blair!”
Blair sat on the couch, on the opposite end of Avery. With her off-white manicured nails, she grabbed a magazine and a pair of scissors from the coffee table. Avery sat a glass of wine down on the table in front of Blair, as an attempt at normalcy.
“Have you decided on a veil yet?” Blair asked Morgan, pointedly not acknowledging the wine with a thank you. “That’ll inform so much of your look.”
“I’m not sure if I’m doing a veil, actually,” Morgan said. She reached for the glass of wine Avery offered her. “Oh, thanks, Avery.”
“You’re very welcome,” Avery said.
She glared at Blair.Bitch.
Blair sat up straight and tall, like she was about to conduct a business meeting. Avery scanned Blair’s outfit: a puff-sleeve blouse, cropped black jeans, and gold kitten heels. There was once a time when Avery admired how elegant and put-together Blair was,when she found Blair’s South Carolinian formalities charming instead of the result of a stick up her ass. She’d even sought Blair’s help for her first date with Ryan, and Blair spent hours doing Avery’s hair and makeup and sifting through Avery’s closet to give her advice on what to wear. Their friendship was special to Avery in college. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe they’d fallen so far, that Blair had so viciously and vocally turned against her and encouraged all their friends to do the same.
“Well, there are lots of options,” Blair said. “There’s the cathedral or chapel veil. Those are pretty formal. Or short veils, which I don’t love, but they’re a bride favorite. There are mantillas, but they kind of look like tablecloths. My favorite is the fingertip.”
Avery flipped a page of her magazine so forcefully it almost ripped. “Morganjustsaid she doesn’t know if she wants a veil, Blair.”
Blair lifted her chin slightly, staring Avery down. Avery stared right back.
“I’m only trying to help,” Blair said with a shrug. The innocent tone of her voice was a skewer through Avery’s eardrums. Blair took a compact mirror out of her polka dot makeup bag and touched up her lipstick. “I was the maid of honor in my cousin’s wedding. I didsomuch research, so I have a lot of context.” She snapped her mirror shut and met Avery’s eye again, like a dare. “Have you ever been a maid of honor before, Avery?”
“Nope. First time.” Then Avery kicked herself for allowing Blair the moment of superiority. She and Blair weren’t best friends anymore. There was no place for honesty in their relationship.
“It can besuperoverwhelming. Did you know some brides have their maids of honor sign their marriage certificate as a witness? What a responsibility!” Blair popped her lipstick cap back on, then gave Avery a sickly sweet smile. “Seriously, let me know if you need help with anything. Being a first time maid of honor istough.”
Avery cleared her throat, the only appropriate response to Blair’s passive aggression. Then she summoned the fake-nice voice again.
“So how long are you in town for?” It was exhausting, being this phony, obliterating people with kindness. Avery didn’t know how Blair did it all the time.
“I’m actually staying until the middle of next week for a work conference!” Blair launched into a long-winded, self-indulgent monologue about all the “challenging but fulfilling” responsibilities she had at Deloitte, which Avery tuned out immediately. Blair always thought she was better than everyone in college because she worked the hardest, and clearly nothing had changed. Back then, Blair would even skip out on parties if she knew she’d be too hungover to do schoolwork the next morning. It gave her this false sense of morality, likeshecould stay in and be responsible whileeveryone elsewas easily swayed by childish vices. Avery used to laugh it off as Blair being Blair, and would sometimes even join Blair if she didn’t feel like going out either. Now, knowing how far that superiority complex could go—knowing it made her think she kneweverything—Avery wanted to smack her.
“That’s amazing,” Avery said when Blair’s speech felt over.
Morgan taped on a smile, sensing it was time for a subject change. “My mom’s making coquito for the engagement party. ’Tis the season. Get excited.”
“Hell yes!” Avery cheered. Gabriela always used to send Morgan back to campus after Thanksgiving with two homemade bottles, and it got everyone through the final slog until the December holiday break. “Your mom’s coquito is the best.”
“I know, I miss it. I’ve started looking up decorations for the party, too. I’m thinking pink. To match the color scheme of Sel Rrose.”
Sel Rrose was a rustic restaurant in the Lower East Side, with an entrance bordered by two pink doors and a bar with gold stools and exposed brick. It was beautiful, expensive-looking, and Instagrammable—the perfect spot for an engagement party. Avery had suggested the spot to Morgan after it was featured in aMetropolitanstory, and Morgan loved the urban, industrial romantic vibe.
“But you don’t want a hot pink,” Blair said, like this was the most astute clarification. “You want something chic. Like a muted dusty pink.”
Avery heaved a sigh. “Right. That’s the shade of pink in the restaurant.”
Blair blinked like a robot programmed to do human movements. “Great, just confirming. There are lots of shades of pink, you know.”
Frustration bounced around in Avery’s throat, like a cage fighter preparing for the ring.Shut the fuck up!she wanted to shout.Just shut the fuck up!
“This isn’t a Sweet Sixteen, Blair,” is what finally came foaming out of her mouth. “We wouldn’t do hot pink either way.”
Morgan’s lip twitched.
“Right.” Blair blinked again. “And maybe,Morgan, you could get some bubble letter balloons that spell out ‘love.’ I see them all over.”
Avery had seen those balloons online too and was going to suggest them to Morgan days ago. She chugged her wine, annoyed that she didn’t bring them up sooner.
