Book #3 in the Medley Series
ZEKE MITCHELL:
With the World Championship in swimming approaching and our medley team in better condition than ever, nothing can stop us.
Expect, as the season starts, an old injury rears its ugly head again, potential...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Is it disrespectful to spend an entire wedding ceremony staring at one of the bridesmaids?
I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be enraptured by the bride gushing over her as she glides down the aisle. Or, at the very least, be mildly interested in the vows being exchanged. Ignoring the whole ordeal feels impolite. And in any regard, looking at Maya the way I want to is just plain wrong.
But, oh boy, am I looking.
We arrived at the wedding venue this morning, heading upstairs to place our bags in our room. Jen had asked if we were okay sharing a room since it was a little tight fitting in all the guests. We've had enough sleepovers through the years not to mind, especially since neither of us seems keen on hooking up with anyone tonight.
Once we got to the room, Maya had entered first and promptly halted, so I barreled directly into her back, securing her with a hand across her stomach so neither of us would tumble to the floor.
Then I looked further into the room to see what had prompted her reaction and noticed the very large, singular bed in the middle of the space.
Maya had looked over her shoulder with a coy smile, saying, "You know, I think I've read this fanfic."
Jen was dealing with wedding day jitters, and Sophie stood guard to determine which grievances were to be brought before the bride. In the end, neither Maya nor I wanted to bother them with this. We've shared a bed before. It's not a big deal.
Except when she entered the church after spending the whole morning with the other bridesmaids making sure Jen was pampered like she deserved, looking like a fucking dream, I regretted not pushing back a little.
She's wearing a pale pink dress. It makes her brown skin glow, and her curls are fixed in some fancy updo, revealing so much of her neck and shoulders that it almost feels indecent.
No, what's indecent is how my body reacts whenever my eyes stray to her cleavage. Which is a lot, I might add.
For the record, I do try to pay attention to the pastor. Today is the most important day of two of my closest friends' lives. I want to at least recall some of it.
But Maya spends the whole time beaming at the happy couple, so invested in their joy, even though she only met them four months ago. And I cannot tear my eyes away, especially not when our gazes connect from time to time, sending thrills down my spine.
God, she's so freaking beautiful.
She always has been, of course. I used to think it was only natural to notice such things, that it didn't mean anything. I truly believed that until she got a horrible flu during her sophomore year of college. I spent three days nursing her at my apartment in between practices, and despite her being on the brink of death, I couldn't help myself from admiring how pretty she was.
