“We were talking about the Bamboo Forest trails. You know, the one with the waterfalls,” the bridesmaid explains. “And how we have our nail appointments to go to instead.”
“Right,” Diana says with a nod. “But the trails are all muddy. So not my thing.”
“And your thing is everyone’s thing,” Danielle says under her breath. The bridesmaid hears her and tries not to smile. “So, Diana says you just got engaged.”
“Yeah.” Danielle’s eyes flick to mine. “Just a few weeks ago.”
“Congrats! That ring is gorgeous!”
“Thanks. He did a good job.” She wiggles her fingers. “I’m lucky.”
The bridesmaid looks at me. “Yeah, you are.”
“I’m the lucky one.” I reach across the table and take Danielle’s hand. It feels like the natural thing to do…but then again, so does kissing her. I force a smile and shove everything I’m feeling to the sideline where they’ve always been.
And I think they always will be.* * *
“I was a little worried Diana would pick hideous dresses.” Danielle does a twirl in front of the mirror. “But these are really pretty. I’d totally wear this for real.” She’s wearing her bridesmaid dress, and it looks beautiful on her. Though I’m pretty sure she could wrap herself up in a shower curtain and still look amazing.
The dress is a sea-green color, matching her eyes, and is shorter in the front than in the back. It’s flowy and swirls around her legs as she spins.
“Looks comfortable too.”
“It is, and it won’t be too hot for tomorrow, which is nice.” She looks down at the dress once more. “I should change, though. We need to head out if we want to make it to the Bamboo Forest. And I got the keys from my dad.”
“You took them, or he gave them to you?”
“Took them.”
“What a rebel,” I tease.
“This is just the start. I’m thinking about swiping that really soft robe from the hotel closet too.”
“I think they just charge it to your room.”
“Oh.” She wrinkles her nose. “Well, I’ll enjoy the freebie robe for like a few hours then until they realize it’s missing.” Opening the dresser drawer, she grabs her clothes and goes into the bathroom to change. My stuff is still in my suitcase where I’ll keep it the rest of the trip.
“Shit,” I hear Danielle swear from the bathroom.
“Everything okay in there?” I call.
“My hair is stuck in the zipper.”
“Need help?”
“Yes, please.” She comes out of the bathroom, holding the dress up over her breasts with one hand and turns around. The zipper made it about halfway down before she ran over her hair. “I tried zipping it back up, you know, like undoing what I did. And now it’s worse.”
I gather her hair up in my hand, separating it from the little section that’s caught in the zipper. I go to move it over her shoulder, and my fingers sweep across the soft skin on the nape of her neck. Swallowing hard, I look at the tangle of hair, trying to figure out the best way to get it out of the zipper without breaking off the long locks.
But now I’m looking at a little freckle she has on the back of her shoulder. She has tan lines that run down her back, disappearing beneath the light blue fabric of the dress.
“How bad is it?” She turns her head back, looking over her shoulder. She arches her back a bit, trying to get a better look, and her ass brushes against me, causing my cock to stir. I grit my teeth and look back at the zipper.
“Not that bad.”
“Good. Because that’s too much hair to cut. Also, I’m fairly certain if I broke the zipper on the dress, I’d be the dead body in the ocean. Diana won’t get her hands muddy, but she has no problem getting them bloody.”
“She’s very, uh, focused on the wedding,” I mumble. Heat radiates off of her, and being so close yet so far is the most infuriating thing in this whole fucking world. Shifting my gaze from her ass to her hair, I carefully move the zipper down, freeing a few strands of hair. A few pieces snap off, but the zipper keeps coming down, moving past the spot where it was stuck.
I should stop.
Let her finish unzipping the dress.
But I’ve lost control over my hands, and the zipper keeps moving down farther and farther until my fingers are hovering above the little dimple she has on her lower back. She reaches up, holding the dress with one hand, and feels her hair.
“How’s the zipper? I’m almost scared to look.”
“I think it’s okay.”
“Can you test it?” She looks over her shoulder again. “I’ll make sure to keep my hair out of the way this time.” Gathering her hair in one hand, she twists it and holds it out of the way. I pull the dress together, fumbling with the tiny zipper between my large fingers.