“Sure. This is also sort of edible though. If you want, you can do this.” I squirt the mixture into my mouth until it’s full, then I push it out, letting the liquid spill over my lower lip and chin and down my neck.
“Cool,” Isabella says, lining up to get more bloodied.
Byron asks to be splattered next. Now that Isabella is back in the country, it seems he’s coming home from Gatton every weekend and every chance he gets. I spray “blood” on his dress and arms. He takes a big gulp of my home brew and lets it spill over his chin, then chases Isabella to kiss her.
Keats steps up to me next, eyes on the loved up couple.
“You’re staring,” I tell him and he wrenches his eyes away and smiles at me.
“Hey, Hay-gen.” He sounds resigned, and I wonder if he’s still in love with Isabella or just too stubborn to give up on winning her back.
“Where do you want it?” I ask him.
Before he could answer, we hear a squeal and see that the zombie bride has caught the former Ginger Spice around the waist and is bloodying her neck with his mouth.
“Right here,” Keats says to me, using his fingers to pretend he’s pointing a gun at his temple. He fires and mimes blood and brain coming out the other side.
“Peach looks good on you,” I tease as I squirt blood down one of his temples. It’s too awkward not to say anything when his eyes are on my face.
“I’m showing too much cleavage.”
We both look down at the heart-shaped neckline of his corset top and the smidgen of light brown hair between his pecs.
“Plus, I obviously didn’t shave.” He lifts the skirt of his frock a fraction so we can check out his legs.
“Maybe the look will take off,” I joke, though he certainly can make it look sexy.
Keats shakes his head, a self-deprecating smile on his face. I cup his jaw in one hand to apply blood across the muscled column of his neck, revelling in the fact I can touch him. Friends do that, right? The fact I enjoy it more than a friend should is something he doesn’t need to know.
“So, how’s Booty Call Neil?” Keats asks while I’m busy layering the fake blood on his neck.
“Great,” I answer automatically. I paste on a smile and nod to make my reply even more believable. The truth is, I’ve only seen Neil twice more since the first time we’d slept together. Both times had been booty calls—fun but meaningless.
Keats’ Adam’s apple bobs before he says, “You’re still seeing him, huh?”
“Hm-hm.” I’m not about to admit that I have no intention of calling Neil again. It seems, he’s just interested in living up to his title as my booty call guy. And I’ve realised that a sex-only relationship is just not working for me anymore. Not when Neil’s not the guy I want to be naked with. Besides, having any kind of relationship with him felt too much like cheating on my unwitting boyfrenemy.
Keats purses his lips with a thoughtful nod. “Byron’s loss.”
Our eyes meet for a beat, but before I can read his expression his gaze suddenly zones in on something over my shoulders. “Who the hell is that?”
I follow Keats’ gaze and find a tall, tanned woman walking towards us with purposeful strides. She’s about the same height as me, but with her figure, she could be a swimsuit model instead of being called “Tank” throughout high school. She’s in a long blonde wig arranged in two ponytails at the sides of her head and a knee-length sack-like pale pink dress that doesn’t hide her killer body nor her shapely long legs. Her face is made-up to look like she has dark half-circles under her dark eyes, and blue lips.
“Querida!” she yells, waving a graceful long arm to attract Isabella’s attention. Her perky breasts jiggle a little with the action, the motion hypnotic.
“Sofie, hi!” Isabella squeals, running over to the exotic beauty. They air kiss—hopefully because Isabella is covered in fake blood rather than because she’s become one of those people who air kisses. “I’m so glad you can make it.”
“Of course.” She turns to the zombie bride. “By-hon, docinho, so good to see you again! How’s life at Gatton? Got a secret relationship with a cow yet?”
“Yeah, I did, but I had to break it off. I’m home most weekends now with this one.”
Isabella slaps him playfully on the stomach with the back of her hand.
“Good choice,” Sofie says with a wink as the others return with their one-serving boxes of pizza.
“Everyone, this is my uni friend, Sofie Oliveira. She’s the newest member of the bridal party, now that Fiona isn’t allowed to be on her feet.”
My stomach drops. This is the first I’ve heard of this.
I’m suddenly glad I’m maid of honour. I’ll probably be standing next to Isabella at the church and in the wedding photos. Sofie as the last bridesmaid will most likely be at the other end of the shots. Isabella is obviously not choosing bridesmaids so she can be the prettiest in the bunch on the day, because Sofie will no doubt steal the show.
I watch Penny and Mia greet our newest member, Babe Spice, impressed by their genuine-looking smiles and friendliness. Am I the only one who thinks this is a terrible idea?
“Sofie’s a member of the in-house counsel at Real Mines Australia,” Isabella tells the bridal party, then proceeds to introduce everyone to her.
They all seem enthralled by Sofie, who looks like a cross between Sofia Vergara and Catherine Zeta-Jones. The only thing paying attention to me is a bee hovering near the corn syrup “blood” on my arms.
“And this is Keats, Byron’s brother. He’s an investment banker at the Bank of Australian Investments,” Isabella says, making my head snap to attention away from the buzzing insect.
“Oh, the ex-boyfriend. How awkward,” Sofie says, with
