Chicks, Man

The tongue has no bones but is strong enough to break a heart.

—Proverbs 15:1

Levi

Kipley and Stacey’s Wedding Day

“Hell, look at all those chicks, man. It’s like a flock of fucking flamingos begging for some action.” Chase, one of my best friends and fellow groomsman, points out, refusing to take his eyes off the group of giggling bridesmaids huddled in the corner of the church. I pull on the bowtie strangling me and bring my eyes to the ridiculous amount of bridesmaids Stacey, Kip’s bride, chose.

“Who the fuck didn’t Stacey ask to stand up? Jesus.” Ben groans, trying to count the small colony of girls, all puffed out in Pepto Bismol pink.

I give up on my tie and scrape my hands down my face. “Dude, I have no idea. I was less worried about the headcount and more like what the hell was Kip thinking when he allowed his bride to pick pink?”

Dammit! I tug at my bowtie again. Either my neck grew a solid inch in circumference, or Stacey ordered all our shit a size too small.

Seven months ago, our best friend since grade school, Kipley Matthews, took the plunge and asked his girl to marry him, despite Chase arguing that tying himself down would ruin our bro-power.

The four of us all grew up in the same neighborhood in small town, USA. All the same age. Kipley was always the smartest. Stuck to the books while Chase stuck to chasing girls and getting the younger classmen to help him cheat. Ben and I focused mainly on football and the occasional double dates Chase would force us to go on—he always had a new girl, and she always had a friend. Now, years of friendship later, we’re all standing in Saint James Catholic Church, waiting for our boy to walk down the aisle.

“With that lineup, there’s no way we can’t pull an old-school Seven Minutes in Heaven. Just look at all those tits. It’s like a buffet of nipples. I mean, ten girls, really?” Chase grabs for his dick, and I punch him, shaking my head. Stacey is two years younger. Was top of her class and very popular. I’m actually shocked she only has ten. There are a few familiar faces from high school. Kendall Brice, a former cheerleader, now married with kids. Kristen Mills, girl voted most likely to end up at a strip club. Rebecca Fritz, the world’s biggest bitch.

As soon as the thought flashes in my mind, Rebecca hip-bumps the girl next to her. Always has been and always will be a bitch. I glower at Rebecca, realizing it’s little Hannah Matthews, Kip’s younger sister, as she catches herself before tripping over her too-long, pink puff-of-a-disaster. Hannah brushes her over-curled chestnut hair away from her face and tucks it behind her ear, her doe eyes frustrated and plump lips pouty. My curiosity piques, taking note of her missing braces and little girl features before my eyes wander shamelessly to her chest. Her tits sure have made their appearance since the last time I saw her. Wow, when did little Hannah Banana grow up? My dick twitches, and I close my eyes, raking my hands back down my face. What the hell has gotten into me?

“Kristen still looks like a fuckin’ stripper. I bet she would meet me in the closet for seven minutes. Ride me like she used to in high school.” I smack Chase. We’re in a damn church, and god forbid Kip or Stacey’s family overhears our conversation.

“What? You know you’re thinking the same thing. Weddings are meant for people to get laid. And it’s happening. Just like old times. Who are you targeting? Didn’t you use to have a thing for Kendall? I bet she would suck you off—”

This time, I punch him in the side. “She’s fucking married with two kids. Seriously, grow up,” I huff in frustration. The last thing on my mind is getting laid. Not since Teresa broke up with me—after finding someone to take my place.

Ben steps forward, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Man, don’t even think about that cheating ex of yours. She didn’t deserve you.” She most definitely didn’t. All that bull crap about women wanting a nice guy is just that. When they get one, they never fail to take advantage. I offer Ben an appreciative nod. Unlike Chase, who comprehends nothing about having a relationship longer than twenty-four hours, Ben’s like me. I was able to confide in him when shit hit the fan and I caught Teresa with another guy in our bed. I almost let her convince me what she did was a mistake and she loved me. Fortunately, I wised up—then I kicked her cheating ass out.

“Okay, fine. Geez, you don’t need to be a pussy about it. Might as well go for little Hannah Banana Matthews. Just as plain as she used to be, but damn, did she grow some tits.” Chase laughs, and my brows draw together, my frustration building. I’m not sure why I care. I never had before when he’d poke fun at Kip’s little sister. “Oh, what? Have I upset you? Do you want to hit little Matthews, Dent?” Both Ben and Chase gape at me, and I have no idea why it takes me so long to respond. God no, I don’t want to do anything with Hannah Matthews—the little runt with braces who used to bug the shit out of us when we were kids. I pull my eyes away, making the mistake of landing them back on Hannah.