Page 645 of Hell Hath No Fury
ARROW & SALEM
SAFFRON A. KENT
Salem
“You can’t go.”
The voice echoes around my room as if the person that it belongs to—one of my best friends from high school, Callie Thorne—is here with me, in my bedroom, instead of peering at me through the computer screen.
I stop what I’m doing, which is super boring and not like me at all—picking out an outfit for my lunch date. My bed is covered in heaps and heaps of clothes and I have no idea what I’m gonna wear.
Usually, I would just throw on my cargo pants and a t-shirt for such things.
Well, okay. So sometimes I’ll also wear tiny skirts and cute tops but that’s only for very, very special occasions and for a very, very,veryspecial someone.
That being said, this is a special occasion too.
One I don’t think I’ll get to experience a lot in my life, so I need to look good.
First though, I need to deal with my friend. I look up from a dress that I bought like months ago but never really wore; the computer is sitting on my nightstand and Callie has a fierce frown on her sweet, angelic face.
“I have to,” I tell her.
“You’re insane.”
“That’s nothing new.” I raise my eyebrows. “But I’m going.”
She stares at me with her round blue eyes, which I’m realizing can be very scary and stern when she wants them to be.
Then she sighs and purses her lips. “What do you think he’d say if he found out?”
My heart jumps. “Nothing. He’d say nothing.”
“Really? Your fiancé would say nothing about what you’re going to do. A week before the wedding. Aweek, Salem. Before yourwedding.”
I’m about to respond to her but Callie sits up on her bed—she’s been lounging all this time—and gets really close to the camera as if by doing that she can see me even more clearly.
“Oh my God, is that what this is about? The wedding? Is it finally happening? Are you finally losing your mind over it? Because I have to say you’ve been very calm about the whole thing. Like, eerily calm. Brides aren’t supposed to be this calm, Salem. This is the freak-out time for everybody and you have not thrown one tantrum. For someone as dramatic as you, that’s cause for concern.”
Well, I can’t argue with her logic.
Ihaven’tthrown one tantrum and I’m known to be pretty dramatic.
But I think the reason I haven’t thrown any tantrums or had any bridal meltdowns about the wedding is because I don’t really care about the wedding.
I only care about him.
The guy I’m marrying. The love of my life. My sun.
The one they call The Blond Arrow, one of the best pro soccer players in the country, the star of his team the LA Galaxy.
Arrow Carlisle.
My fiancé.
He’s been my fiancé for about six months now—ever since he popped the question after his championship game last year—and I never ever miss a chance to call him that. Maybe because I never even thought that I’d get to call him my boyfriend, let alone my fiancé. And the road to calling him either of those things has not been easy.
It involved a lot of heartache, a lot of longing, a lot of tears and pining and unrequited love since the age of ten.
