Page 10 of Thoroughly Pucked

“But is pineapple cake settling?” Ledger muses. “It sounds kind of good to me.”

Dev tilts his head, seeming to consider the proposal for a beat, then agreeing. “You know, it kind of does. But it’s not on my diet.” He fishes into the chickpea bag and munches on one, and as we reach the car I’m struck by theJust Marriedsign dangling from the trunk.

Well, that won’t do.

“Allow me to handle this,” I say, then uncap the marker I just bought, kneel, and fix the sign.

I cross outJust Marriedand instead I write…Runaway Bride!

It’s not entirely true, but it feels true enough.

The trouble is a runaway bride can’t exactly ride a roller coaster in a wedding dress. “I can’t wear something this long to the amusement park.”

Dev crinkles his nose. “Do you want to go…shopping?” It sounds like he’s gargling dishwasher detergent.

I can’t resist teasing him. “The outlet mall is a couple miles away. You guys want to go?”

“Sure,” Ledger says, like, if there’s a fate worse than wearing Crocs, he’s found it in shopping.

Dev winces then pastes on a fake smile. “Whatever you need.”

Ha! I’ve found Dev’s kryptonite. He dreads commerce. But he loves helping more.

I have another plan though. But first, I need better shoes. “Can you pop the trunk?” I ask Ledger.

Fishing out the key fob from his pants, he complies. I root around inside my bag and grab my black lace-up boots my brother left for me. I’m going to owe him a lifetime of babysitting his twins for saving me today.

Hopping on one foot in the parking lot, I yank off a satin pump and toss it in the trunk. Then I tug on a boot and tie it up. I flamingo my way through the next one, then chuck the other white heel in the trunk too.

After slamming it closed, I clomp over to the passenger side, grabbing my purse from the floor of the car. “I’ll be right back,” I tell the guys.

I march into the store and grab what I need, paying with my phone and ignoring the messages that have lit up the screen like a Vegas slot machine.

I leave the store and find both men standing on the sidewalk, looking a little perplexed, until I wield a pair of scissors. I park my butt on the hot concrete. “Sometimes, you just need a new style.”

Concern flashes in Dev’s eyes. Ledger’s too. Maybe they’re worried I freaked out over a veil but am somehow willing to murder all this lace. “I bought the dress myself. This isn’t an heirloom,” I explain.

Dev’s expression flashes with understanding. “You’re gonna trash the dress.”

I’m impressed he knows what that means. “Yup.”

Ledger shoots him a curious look. “What is that? Is that a thing?”

“It was this whole trend for a while,” Dev explains as I gather up the material. “The bride ruins the dress on purpose after the wedding while a photographer snaps pictures. The bride and groom run through the ocean, or get covered in paint. Or they stand under a waterfall with her in the dress. Or she’s caked in mud in her dress on the side of the road, and he kisses her.”

While I snip the first chunk out of the dress, Ledger asks Dev, “How do you know that? You keep up on wedding news?”

“It’s not wedding news. It’s just news. And yes, I keep up on it. Try reading a paper once in a while.”

“A paper? How old are you?”

With the scissors, I bite off another satisfying heap of lace and tulle.

“Dude,” Dev says. “I’m five years younger than you! And they have papers online. There’s this thing called the Internet.”

“And here I thought the Internet was a portal to doomscrolling hell,” Ledger says, then they go silent.

For several seconds, I hack up the dress, only stopping when I realize they’re staring at me. I look up.

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