Everything about their wedding was football themed, and trust me, I tried to talk her out of it.
“Look, cookies get eaten and then they’re history. Besides, you’re going to have a cake. Who wants wedding cake and a sugar cookie in the same night?” I shook my head. “Get the koozies. People will use them for years to come.”
Gemma nodded, chewing on her lip and my suggestion. “They would be cute to have at our tailgates this season…”
“See?” I said, gesturing to her laptop. “Problem solved. Now, what’s next?”
Gemma pulled her planner into her lap, thumbing through the pages. “I need to finalize the menu,” she looked at me then. “I still don’t know what to do about the vegetarian option. And I need to decide between the garlic mashed potatoes or the wedge fries. I feel like the wedge fries are more tailgate-ish, but are they too informal?”
She didn’t wait for me to answer before she turned her attention back to the planner in her lap.
“And I need to finalize the flowers… and finish the program design so I can get those printed.” Gemma tapped her chin with her pen. “I think that’s it for tonight, the rest can wait until next weekend.” She looked up to the sky with another deep breath. “You would think this would be my heaven, given how I love to plan so much.”
I chuckled. “It’s a little different when it’s your wedding. I mean, you want everything to be perfect.”
Her big eyes locked on mine. “I really do.”
“Can I tell you something?” I asked, and when she nodded, I wrinkled my nose. “It’s not going to be.”
Gemma’s shoulders deflated.
“I just mean don’t stress yourself out over trying to make it all exactly as you think it should be, okay? It’s a wedding, and hurdles are bound to happen. Just be as prepared as you can be and let the day-of planner take care of the rest. After all,” I reminded her, reaching down to squeeze her wrist. “It’s about you and that fine ass man three floors down getting married, not about the flowers or the football jersey guest book.”
“That is pretty awesome, though,” Gemma volleyed.
I rolled my eyes. “For some people, maybe.” But then, I smiled, squeezing her hand once more before I let it go. “Just order those favors so we can turn on a trashy TV show and crack open another bottle of wine. I’m tired of working.”
“Deal,” she said, flopping back down on her stomach in front of her laptop.
Not even a full minute went by before my phone pinged from the coffee table, and when I saw the name on the screen, I squeaked, all but throwing my laptop to the side and nearly spilling my wine in the process of reaching for it.
“What? Who is it?” Gemma asked, eyes wide with concern.
“It’s Makoa.”
Gemma squealed, abandoning her laptop to jump up on the couch next to me. She was practically on top of me as I read the text.
Makoa: Hey, gorgeous. How’s your Friday night going?
I hated how red and hot my cheeks were, how wide my smile was as Gemma squeezed my arm and shook me and giggled like a girl in the audience of a BTS concert.
Me: Well, I’m in sweatpants and already one wine bottle down, so I’d say pretty great. How about you?
Makoa: First you’ve got me imagining you in yoga pants, now sweats? You really are the devil.
Gemma quirked a brow at me then, but I waved her off just as a new text came through.
Makoa: My night is going okay, but I think my Saturday could be better.
I bit my lip, typing out Oh, and why’s that? as my response. Gemma and I were glued to my screen as the little bubbles bounced, letting us know he was typing, but then they went away. I frowned, looking to Gemma just as the phone buzzed in my hand.
With a picture of two tickets to Moulin Rouge! at the Nederlander.
“Oh my God!” Gemma grabbed the phone from my hands, zooming in on the picture. “Belle. These are third row tickets. In the freaking Orchestra! What even?!”
I tore my phone out of her hands, smiling at the screen. “Those had to cost a pretty penny.”
“I’d say,” she agreed. “He’s really showing out for you.”
I smiled again, gripping the phone a bit tighter as my heart raced. And the longer Gemma watched me, the harder that grip became.
“Belle.”
I refused to look at her.
“You like him, don’t you?”
“Hush,” I said, typing out my response to Makoa — which was just a string of excited emojis. Then, I asked what time he’d pick me up.
As soon as the text was sent, Gemma took my phone again, this time propping her ass up long enough to shove it under her and then sit on top of it.
“Hey!” I argued.
“You’ll get this back when you answer my question.”
I huffed. “Of course, I like him. Isn’t it obvious?”
“I mean, you like him like him.”
I blinked.
“Isn’t this going to be date three?”
I smiled at that, shimmying my hips. “It sure is.”
“Which means…”
“Bang town!” I jumped up, bending over the arm of my couch and arching my back as I looked behind me at Gemma. I made my best “O” face and twerked my ass. “Oh yeah, Zaddy Mak. Just like that. Right there, don’t stop!”
Gemma swatted my ass in a fit of laughter, and I plopped back down, reaching for my wine glass.
“Okay, yes, that’s one part of it,” she said when she finally stopped laughing. “But… are you really sure you want to let him go after this?”
All the laughter left the room with that question, and Gemma watched me with a sobering look of pity while my phone pinged under her ass. I looked at her crotch hopefully, but she swatted
