Cousin - Improper (A Bad Boy Romance)

by Wilde, Delilah

  I laughed. Hard. The words pouring from her lips sounded more absurd to me than just about anything else. "Have you been reading bad romance novels or something? Or did you seriously just fall on your head a few too many times? Get over yourself, Marti. Get over me.

  "You really mean to tell me that you never think of us? Come on, Tim. No one forgets their first. And even if you're not hung up on me like that, what's wrong with a little roll in the sack before I get married? Since when have you ever grown a conscience?"

  "It's not about growing a conscience. It's you. Okay? I want nothing to do with you."

  "Then why the fuck are you even here?"

  "Grams asked me to come."

  "Grams did?"

  "Yea."

  She scoffed and huffed as she paced about in a circle. "And you really didn't come for me?"

  "Fuck no." I turned to walk back to the house, leaving her standing with her mouth hanging open.

  ***

  I pulled my tee shirt over my clean bra and glanced out the window. I wished I hadn't done that.

  There I was, standing in nothing but fresh panties and a tee shirt and I could see Tim standing with Marti at the gazebo. My heart sank and the corners of my mouth tugged into a frown.

  I couldn't even tell what I was feeling at that moment. Angry? Heartbroken?

  Confused.

  Why the hell would Tim get suckered back into Marti's crap? And what did I care if she took him for another ride.

  When he trotted out of the gazebo and up to the house, I swiped the drapes closed and turned my back to the window. My eyes fell on the small pile of clothes I had just peeled off of me. The soaked panties still sitting on top. How was it possible that I was swooning over Tim and upset that he was outside spending time with Marti?

  The only way this was going to fix itself would be if I ignored everything I just saw for the rest of the weekend and went about the wedding as planned. Finish getting Marti's preparations in order tonight. Do my duties as a bridesmaid tomorrow. Then come Monday, I never had to deal with this wedding, my sister, or Tim ever again.

  Oh crap. Job interview Monday. "Obviously I will just have to skip it." I told myself out loud. "Otherwise he'll just show up. Gloating to his friends about a new notch he just happened to carve into his headboard."

  I kicked the clothes over into the closet and pulled on some sweatpants.

  The yelling downstairs was already brewing as Marti started demanding people get into the places.

  "Damn it," I whispered. "Rehearsal's tonight?"

  I stepped off the bottom stair and walked into a small crowd of fancy dresses and suits.

  My sweatpants were very self conscious.

  "Angela? What the hell is wrong with you?" Mom asked.

  "Nothing I just. I don't have anything to wear. I just got out of work and I didn't want to wear the tennis uniform."

  "So you thought a tee shirt that says Fight Like a Girl and sweat pants were appropriate?"

  "I-um. I don't know about appropriate, really. But better than naked?" I mumbled. My nerves started to grab hold of me. The butterflies swimming around in my stomach demanded a nervous smile. And they were about to get one.

  I hated the fact that I smiled whenever I got nervous. It always made people angry with me. They always said I wasn't taking them seriously. But it was just something that happened that I couldn't control.

  My mother rolled her eyes and turned around to Marti. "Well Marti, you're going to have to find something she can borrow. Otherwise she's going to ruin the pictures."

  "Ugh," Marti whined and grabbed my wrist to drag me upstairs.

  Flashbacks of when I was ten ran through my head. I twisted my wrist away from her grip and glared at her. "I can walk on my own, thank you."

  "I'm starting to wonder."

  "Fuck you, Marti."

  "Language! Angela!" My mother yelled from downstairs.

  I rolled my eyes and walked behind Marti to her room.

  "Here," she spit as she talked. "You're bigger than I am so it won't fit right. But at least it'll be better than what you're wearing. We'll just have to put you in the back for the pictures."

  "Then why can't you just put me in the back for pictures like this?" I grabbed the dress from her.

  Crap. It was pink.

  And not just any pink. But some awful, neon pink with neon fuchsia pink polka dots.

  "You seriously want me to wear this?"

  "Angela. So far this weekend I have seen you wear a cheerleading uniform, a robe, sweatpants with a ridiculous tee shirt, and a tennis uniform. You are not allowed to question my sense of fashion"

  I couldn't argue with her about all that. Except for my Serenity tee shirt. I loved that tee shirt. But for the rest of it, she was pretty much spot on. Still though, I'd almost go to the wedding in that cheerleading uniform than in this wretched thing.

  "You need to get ready fast," she barked. "The pastor is going to be here any minute and he's going to want to get started." Marti sauntered off out of the room before I could respond.

  ***

  "Hey Grams," I said as I walked into the kitchen.

  She turned around and offered that same cheerful smile she always has and nodded. "Hi Timmy."

  "I have a question. Who finished up the tree?"

  "I called someone."

  "Aww, you didn't have to do that. I would have gotten it finished and put up in time."

  "Oh I know, Timmy. But I thought you did quite enough today. And besides, you were kind enough to give Angela a ride to work and everything. I didn't want to overload you."

  "Grams. Come on. That's why you called me here, isn't it? So I could help out?"

  "Yes but the tree wasn't part of the plan. That fell after you got here."

  I grunted and headed over to her coffee pot.

  "Uh-uh," she said. "You are supposed to be getting ready."

  "Getting ready for what?"

  "The rehearsal tonight. Come on. Into a suit."

  "A suit?"

  "You heard me."

  I shrugged and turned my back to the coffee maker. "Well, it was empty anyway."

  She smiled as though that had been on purpose.

  "So, Grams. When are you going to tell anyone else about what's really going on?"

  "After the wedding."

  "You know, no one's going to like that. I mean, I guess I understand why you don't want them to know before the wedding. But if you wait until after they aren't going to be thinking oh, well, at least she didn't tell us before the wedding! They're going to be upset that you didn't tell them earlier."

  "What do I care if they're upset? Besides, I would have thought that you would have loved all the suspense and intrigue. Is she going to tell them? Is she not? Is she going to write any of them into her will?"

  I laughed. "Stop joking Grams."

  "You worry too much, Tim. You always have."

  "Yea well, none of them think so."

  "None of them think I have cancer, either. Doesn't mean they're right."

  I nodded and stared at the floor in front of her feet. I wished she were lying as much as she were joking. But I knew better.

  People were yelling in the living room: So you thought a tee shirt that says Fight Like a Girl and sweat pants were appropriate?

  Curiosity was killing me to find out who they were talking to and why. But it felt like I hadn't spent enough time with Grams yet today. And I wanted to stay a little while longer.

  "All right," I finally muttered after a few seconds of silence. "I should go get into that suit, then, I suppose."

  She smiled and nodded.

  Whatever commotion had happened in the living room had all but cleared up by the time I walked through. The doorbell rang and most everyone cleared a paths the pastor walked in. I nodded as politely as I could and shot up the stairs to see if I could set a new record for how fast I could put on a suit.

  ***

  Pouring myself into this dress
was the least fun I'd had in a long time. The side zipper was the worst part because I couldn't wrap my arms around me at the right angles to pull the flaps together and work the zipper up.

  "You okay in here?" Tim said from the other side of the door.

  "Um, yea."

  I went back to struggling with the zipper, hoping he would go away.

  A few seconds later, he tapped at the door again. "I'll help you with yours if you help me with mine?"

  Despite my best efforts to stifle a laugh, it came roaring out anyway. I walked up to the door and flung it open. Tim, standing half dressed in a suit. I swallowed to keep from drooling. Half dressed because his shirt was untucked, the bow tie hung loose around his neck and the collar was just a mess.

  "I can't get the zipper," I confessed. I hoped he wouldn't take this opportunity to talk to me about the motorcycle. Please, just let me get through the rest of this weekend without mentioning the motorcycle.

  He nodded and spun me around to grab the zipper.

  I sucked in my stomach and held my arms out. He tugged and poked, nearly knocking me off my feet, but finally the zipper climbed as far as he could reach.

  "All right, turn around." He said.

  "What?"

  "Well, walk or something. How do you test these things out in the store?"

  "Test these things out? Did you just ask how we test dresses out in a store?"

  His face was set on serious. He wasn't laughing.

  "Yea, like to make sure the zippers aren't faulty or something."

  "Oh, Tim," I took in a deep breath and smiled.

  "You're about to call me stupid aren't you?"

  "No. Not at all. Just.... We test them out by dancing. Come here and let me fix that bow tie."

  He stepped up and puffed out his chest to tuck in his shirt. I straightened out his jacket sleeves and then tried to button his collar. He stretched his neck up and held his breath as I folded his collar.

  "Well, it's no wonder you had trouble." I said.

  "How do you mean?"

  "This bow tie is way too small for you."

  "Ugh," he took a deep breath and grabbed the bow tie from my hand. "Well, we're already late. Let's just go."

  He started for the door and we headed down the stairs. Everyone stood in a circle. Every arm crossed at the elbow and all eyes on us.

  I sighed and tried my best to duck behind everyone into a back corner.

  "Right, well, if we could get started. Is everyone here now?"

  "Everyone but the groom," my father said.

  "Where's he?"

  "He said he was caught up in a meeting," said Marti. "He'll be here tomorrow."

  "Okay, well, we can get moving on this and get everyone else set up, but then tomorrow you'll need to show him where to go and everything. Do we have someone who can stand in for him?"

  Eyes flew about the room. All the men in the room shook their heads.

  "No, everyone here is in the wedding," said Marti.

  "Okay. Then we'll just have to work without a decoy. So, this is where the wedding party is going to gather before the march." He turned to the French double doors leading out to the back yard and swung them open untrue grandiose fashion. "Let's get the order set up."

  The pastor started sorting through people. Lining everyone up and pairing guys and girls together for the march.

  Tim and Grams stayed behind.

  I was paired with Aaron. He stunk from being doused in too much cologne. Shorter and skinnier than Tim, it was clear that they had different parents. I held my breath and offered up the most polite smile I could and turned to listen to the pastor.

  "So we march," the pastor instructed.

  He started playing music and everyone started walking. A few seconds later, he interrupted everyone and pointed at Tim.

  "Wait, who are you? Are you in the party?"

  "No."

  "Okay, come stand in for the groom."

  "No thanks."

  "Come on, it'll be easy and that way you can help explain everything to the groom tomorrow. Just get up and walk with me outside."

  Tim sighed and glanced around at the rest of us. Finally he shook his head and took in a deep breath and walked outside. Minutes later, the pastor came back in and we started marching again.

  What probably should have taken twenty minutes to rehearse took closer to two hours. I was beginning to think none of these people had ever walked before. Even Aaron kept tripping over his own feet. Every time he did, he jerked my elbow and came very close to knocking me off my feet.

  "Okay, everyone. I think we've run through this as many times as we can and I'm sure we are all getting tired and hungry. So I will give you a quick minute to ask any last minute questions that you might have and then we will stop for the night and eat."

  Everyone glanced around at each other and shook their heads. The pastor finally nodded his head and motioned back toward the house where Grams had a feast ready and waiting for us. I smiled at the signal the night would soon be over. Being restricted to only shallow breaths made me lightheaded. My stomach growled at the food.

  I just hoped I could partake. Grams's cooking was always so good. And I was famished.

  ***

  I wasted no time loosening my collar and attacking the table for food. I wanted to grab a plate and run before the rest of the wedding party could rampage through everything. Thankfully, they were all so busy congratulating each other outside that I had plenty of time to dig into my favorites.

  With plate in tow, I scooted out the front door and headed toward the porch swing.

  It seemed anywhere I went, privacy was simply going to be too much for me to ask. Minutes after I sat down, more people followed and sat down on the porch. Soon after that, Angela walked out with a plate. She glanced around and headed toward the gazebo. While everyone was engrossed in their own conversation, I decided to sneak off and join Angela.

  "Hey," I whispered.

  "Hi." She slid her plate off her lap and onto the bench next to her.

  "You okay?" I sat down across from her and began shoveling food into my mouth.

  "Yea, I'm fine. Jeez that rehearsal took forever. Didn't it?"

  "You'd think we were all a bunch of idiots."

  "I think Marti does think that way."

  We both laughed. I shook my head and chomped down on another spoonful of some sort of salad. "Well, after tomorrow, at least we'll be done with them. Right? Never have to see any of these people again."

  "Easy for you to say."

  "What do you mean?"

  "That's my sister. After tomorrow, she's going to be leaving to go on her honeymoon. And guess who she's going to ask to watch over her house while she's gone? Not to mention holiday gatherings and stuff. I'm never going to be rid of her."

  "Ha! But at least at your own wedding you can torment her the way she's tormenting you."

  Angela shook her head. "No way."

  "No way you aren't going to torment her?"

  "No way I'm never getting married."

  "What? I thought that's what all girls wanted. The perfect big wedding with the perfect dress, and the perfect cake, and the perfect photographs that hide the perfect arguments behind the scenes."

  "Not me. Weddings are awful. I mean, what's the point? So you can have a piece of paper that tells the world you've made a commitment and you want the government to honor that commitment if you die? Wills do the same thing and cost less."

  "You've put a lot of thought into that?" I said, not quite believing her. I've heard women say similar things in the past. They always changed their minds.

  It was as if they thought they could change my mind. Once we were dating for more than a few months, they wanted a commitment of forever and assumed I wanted the same thing. And some of them might have even just been lying from the very beginning. I never was really sure.

  But somehow I thought Angela might have been telling the truth.

  I looked her over. Her
long legs shaking tenderly against the chill in the air. She tried her best to cross one knee over the other, but didn't seem to have enough room.

  "Are you going to eat?" I asked, staring at the plate of untouched food next to her.

  She looked down at the plate and shrugged. I don't think I can.

  "Why not? Are you sick?"

  "No. I just. It's nothing, never mind."

  I really hated it when girls told me never mind even as their cheeks turned pink. Like they assumed I couldn't understand their complexities just because I think with a penis. "No. Not never mind. Why grab the food if you aren't going to eat it?"

  She glanced around and then stared down at her fingertips. "I can barely breathe in this dress."

  I nodded. And put my plate down.

  "Why don't you change out of it then?"

  "Are you kidding? If I go upstairs right now, Marti will have my head."

  "So you'd rather just pass out from not eating and lack of oxygen?" I took off my suit jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then I slipped my hands up her waist to that pesky side zipper and started to work it down.

  She took in a deep breath and smiled as I massaged the zipper down. "Oh my God," she groaned. "You have no idea how good that feels. That's better than sex."

  I nearly spit from laughing so hard.

  "But, is it better than the ride home after sex?"

  I should have kept my mouth shut. Why did I say that? She closed her eyes tight and her cheeks flushed immediately.

  "Oh my God," she whined. "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God."

  "It's. I'm," I tried. I couldn't make the words come out. Not the right words, anyway.

  She buried her face in her hands and stared at her knees. I grabbed my plate of food and rubbed her shoulder. "I don't know why you're so embarrassed," I said. "That was fucking hot."

  "What?" She sat back up and glared at me. "How was that hot?"

  "I don't know. I mean, I've never heard of anyone doing that before. That's got to be some kind of record or something."

  Her smile seemed to lean to one side and she grabbed her food and relaxed. "I guess. It just sucked because I spent the whole time thinking you were going to crash if I started squeezing you too tight or something."