Page 1 of Had To Be You

Chapter One

Ellie

“I never want to see another penis again as long as I live.”

“Having second thoughts, Liv? It’s not too late to back out now.”

Olivia, my best friend and the bride-to-be, scowls at me, taking another sip of her cranberry vodka drink. She scowls for a second time when her lips pop off the penis straw that I, like the best friend I am, made sure to add to her drink.

“Really, Ells? I’m starting to regret telling you that you could throw me a bachelorette party. This feels more like a giant penis orgy. There are penises everywhere. Penis necklaces, penis straws, penis-shaped shot glasses. And I think we all could have done without penis tattoos,” she says, flipping her arm over to show me the one plastered to the inside of her wrist.

“I disagree. You specifically told me that you wanted to have fun and penises are the most fun.”

Okay, maybe I took things a little too far with the party. Out of the two of us, Olivia is definitely the reserved one whereas I am the definition of an extrovert to a T. That might be the reason we get along so well. She’s the yin to my yang, the Ethel to my Lucy, the salt to my pepper. That’s not to say that she’s not a ton of fun - maybe just don’t take her to a nightclub, cover her in penis paraphernalia and hire a stripper to grind his junk all over her leg. Shit! I think I might have messed up this night.

Olivia blows out a breath and turns to wade through the crowd towards our VIP table that her hot, uber rich, practically perfect fiancé Parker Bennett is footing the bill for. He wouldn’t have had it any other way. When he’s not sending her ridiculously expensive gifts or whisking her away on romantic weekend getaways, he’s running the most successful hotel chain on the east coast with his father. He is the guy that every girl dreams of.

I follow Olivia, making a quick stop at the bar to order a round of shots to the table before squishing in next to Olivia’s sister Kate, Parker’s sister Jules and six more of the bride-to-be’s closest friends. The plush velvet booth has a perfect view of the dance floor as well as a bouncer, per Parker’s request, who is there to keep creepy guys from getting too close. A server arrives with the round of shots I ordered, plus a second round on the house.

“Cheers to Olivia!”

We raise our shots in the air toasting Olivia, and I watch as she laughs and tips her glass back. Maybe she’s forgotten for a minute that she hates all of the penis bits and bobs. Phew. She flashes me a smile and in return I blow her a kiss. I’m determined that she has the best night ever. After all, if anyone knows how to have a good time, it’s me!

“Round two!” We all toss the second round of tequila shots back and I wince as the burn of the clear liquid slides down my throat.

“Ladies, follow me. It’s time we burn up the dance floor,” Kate hollers over the bass that’s thumping through the club.

“Kate, are you suddenly eighty years old, for Pete’s sake? Nobody ‘burns up the dance floor’ anymore,” I tease, sliding my body from the velvet bench. “I clearly need to get you out of the house more -especially since our three-pack is turning into a two-pack at the end of the month when Olivia gets hitched.”

Kate rolls her eyes and follows our group past the bouncer to the dance floor. We spend the next hour dancing to top forty songs and occasionally fending off guys who seem to think we love it when they hump our legs with their bodies. Why would anyone think that’s a turn-on?

My hands are in the air and my hips are swaying to the music when I hear our code word, “Pineapple,” being called out from across the dance floor. Olivia, Kate and I had decided years ago that we needed a safe word to rescue each other from train wreck dates. And believe me, there have been plenty of those. I search the crowd, immediately laughing when I spot Kate smashed between two guys in a creepy testosterone sandwich. They are both hip thrusting their lower bodies into her, while she grimaces in annoyance. I’ve got this. Pushing my way through the crowded dance floor, I reach her and slip my hand in hers.

“Excuse me, boys,” I say, looking in turn to the short guy behind Kate and the really tall one who’s latched on to the front of her. “It’s my turn to dance with my girlfriend. Right, future wife?”

The short guy backs away, his hands going up like a pair of stop signs. The tall one looks at me like I’m riding a motorcycle while doing a handstand and then turns and pads away. And that’s how it’s done, folks.

“Thanks, Ells. I didn’t see that one coming,” Kate shouts over the music.

“No one ever does, that’s how they getcha!” We dance for a while until Olivia announces she needs a bathroom break. I follow her to the restroom, where we each slip into a stall.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Ells,” I hear Olivia shout in her annoyed voice from the stall next to mine. “Your name and phone number are still Sharpied on the back of the door.”

“Oh my gosh, Olivia. Remember when I did that? Sarah Porter, who is now married with at least thirty three kids, dared me to do it. I was so drunk that night and remember- “

“Ells, I remember. I don’t need my memory refreshed. You really need to get rid of this.”

“Oh right, cuz I carry a permanent marker in my pocket with me everywhere I go. I’ll get right on that.” I shake my head like she can see me through the wall and make my way to the sink where she meets me seconds later.

At the sink, I meet her deep brown eyes in the reflection of the mirror. “Are you having fun, Olivia?”

“I am, Ells. Thank you for planning tonight. You are the bestest of the best. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you more than you know,” I tell her, because it’s true. Olivia and I are more than best friends, we are also business partners. We opened the first location of our flower shop, Bloom, here in Reed Point shortly after college and our second just last year in Cape May, a small town roughly two and a half hours away. I run the Reed Point location and Olivia runs the Cape May one since she moved there to be closer to Parker. Unfortunately, that means we don’t get to see each other nearly enough these days.

I apply another coat of gloss on my lips then turn to Olivia, pulling her in for a hug. “Are you ready for phase two of your bachelorette party to begin?”

“There are phases? I’m scared to ask,” she says, pausing the brush of her lip gloss at the center of her lip.

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