An Angel Wears Hightops [A Sequel to The Devil Wears Girl Jeans]

An Angel Wears Hightops (Chapter 30)

FOUR MONTHS LATER:

“Uh oh.” Lacey groaned, staring down at her wedding dress with wide eyes. She tossed the Doritos bag she'd been holding onto the floor, and rushed over to the mirror to inspect the damage she'd caused, sheets of silk and lace billowing around her as she moved.

“What the hell did you do?” I asked in horror, taking in the bright orange streaks that ran down the front of her dress. I tossed the comb and bobby pins I'd been holding onto the counter, and hurried to her side.

“I may or may not have wiped my fingers on my dress.” she told me, and I sighed. Typical Lacey.

“Here, let me.” Aubrey ordered, materializing out nowhere with a spray bottle and a cloth. Her hair had been twisted up into a flawless bun for the occasion, her bridesmaids dress making her look like she'd just stepped off the runway. Mine on the other hand, made me look like I was wearing a sparkly blue paper bag. Awesome.

“Hartley, can you go check on the guys for me? I feel like they won't do anything unless you make them.”

“Aye aye, captain.” I told Aubrey with a little salute, heading off down the hall towards the dressing room where the guys were getting ready. Aubrey had flown over from New York on the first flight she could get, and had pretty much put herself in charge of making sure we didn't screw everything up. Which was good, since we were notorious for, y'know, screwing everything up.

“Can I come in?” I asked without knocking, pushing the door open before I'd even got a response. I was greeted by a full view of Mickey and Tristan standing in the middle of the room in their boxers,  both of them waving casually as I entered.

“You look beautiful.” Tristan told me, taking my hand and twirling me around in a quick circle, causing my skirt to puff out around me like a parachute. Poe smirked at us from where he was lounging by the windowsill, a lit cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth. Bits of ash tumbled off the end of it as he inhaled, speckling the white fabric of his tuxedo, but I ignored him. Whatever snarky comments he had to say about us could be kept to himself.

“That would've been a lot cuter if you were wearing pants.” I told Tristan, getting a lopsided grin in return.

In the four months since Dallas's release dinner, Tristan and I had managed to bridge the gap that the distance had created between us. Although it had been awkward at first, we'd slowly started to return back to the way things had been before. Of course, it wasn't the same, and it never would be, but we were friends again, and that was more than I could ever have hoped for.

“You sure you're ready to get married, dude?” Quinn asked, pulling a piece of lint off of Gunner's tuxedo jacket, “I mean, a wife is like a really extreme version of a girlfriend. And since she's not pregnant, it's not like you have to feel obligated or anything anymore. Like, why rush it?”

“Wait, she's not pregnant? Why did she never tell me that?” I asked, taking a seat on the dressing room table that was now littered with various hair gels and cologne bottles. The whole room smelled like teenage boys, and it made me want to puke a little bit, to be honest.

“Yeah, it was just stomach flu or something, which is why I cant stress enough that YOU DO NOT NEED TO MARRY MY 18 YEAR OLD SISTER.” Quinn cried, raising his voice as he turned to Gunner, shooting him an intimidating look that only really possessive older brothers were capable of pulling off.

“Oooookay Quinn, why don't you go take a seat over there, and let Gunner worry about that later, okay? He's a busy man, he's getting married in less than an hour. Let him do his thing.” Seth told him, leading him over to the seat beside Poe.