Maid of Honour (Terms Apply)

☾︎✿︎☽︎

Zoey’s eyes flew open. In a panic, she shoved Abby off her, sending him tumbling face first to the floor with a yelp.

"Owwww…." he groaned, his voice muffled.

Fortunately for them—and Zoey’s dignity—the high back of the couch was turned toward the door. The odds of anyone walking in on a truly traumatizing scene were blessedly low.

Zoey peeked over the couch to find Gigi standing in the doorway, eyes wide.

“Gigi! I wasn’t expecting you,” Zoey said, striving for casual and missing by a mile.

“Clearly,” Gigi said, slowly recovering from her shock. “I’ve been knocking on your door for the past five minutes with no answer, but it seems you were… busy.”

Zoey’s face flushed with embarrassment. “It’s not what it looks like—"

"It looks like you two were making out." Gigi cut her off flatly.

Zoey sputtered. "Whaaaaat? No!" She waved her hand. "Abby was just.... doing push-ups."

Gigi arched an eyebrow. "Doing push-ups?"

"Mhmm," Zoey replied, giving her a tight-lipped smile. 

"On the couch?”

“Yep.”

 “On top of you?”

“We… do a lot of unconventional fitness routines together.”

Gigi stared, her expression utterly deadpan. “Hey, Abel. You okay down there?”

“Other than my bruised pride and possibly a cracked rib, I’m just peachy,” Abby answered, his face still planted on the rug. 

“See? He’s fine…” Zoey muttered weakly.

“And how did he fall off the couch mid… push-up?”

“He’s… remarkably clumsy.”

“Right…” Gigi drew the word out, her tone dripping with disbelief. "Anyways, I'll be waiting in the car while you two.... sort yourselves." Gigi turned to leave before muttering, "Thank God, the back of the couch covered whatever those two were doing."

The door clicked shut behind her. Abby finally rolled on his back, rubbing his jaw.

"Well, that happened," He said, running a hand through his hair.

Zoey groaned as she fell back on the couch, covering her face with her hands. "Oh my God, just kill me now." 

Abby chuckled, finding the situation funny. "On the bright side, at least she’s got ‘push-ups’ to speculate about.”

Zoey grabbed a cushion and hurled it at him. It hit him square in the face with a soft thump.

“Ow! Hey!” He snatched the cushion and tossed it back. “I’m the victim here!”

“Putting you and ‘victim’ in the same sentence is like giving a trigger-happy hillbilly a machine gun and trusting the vibes,” Zoey retorted.

Abby shrugged, utterly unbothered. “I can be an innocent victim of circumstance.”

“Name one time you’ve ever been ‘innocent.’”

A slow, mischievous smirk spread across his face. “Right before we were about to get frea—ow! Damn it, Zo! That’s assault!”

Zoey simply rolled her eyes. "Tough cookies, country boy. I'm going to get changed."

“Fine. I’ll just… lie here and contemplate my life choices.”

“You do you, boo boo,” Zoey called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the bedroom.

Abby groaned. “Boo boo? Really?”

Zoey leaned back out of the doorway just to stick her tongue out at him.

“Real mature,” he replied, his voice flat.

☾︎✿︎☽︎

The bell above the door chimed, a sound of delicate crystal that shattered the heavy silence from Gigi’s car. Zoey followed her inside, enveloped by the scent of expensive linen, gardenia, and latent tension.

The boutique was a sun-drenched sanctuary of minimalist elegance. Racks of exquisite gowns stood like silent spectators, and three full-length mirrors reflected the anxiety Zoey was trying to swallow.

“Welcome,” The voice was warm, familiar, and carried a subtle edge of amusement. A dark tanned woman emerged from behind a sheer silk curtain, her gaze sweeping past Gigi and landing directly on Zoey. A genuine, knowing smile softened her sharp features. “Zoey? It’s that you?” 

“Hi, Tati,” Zoey said, her own smile feeling more natural than she expected. “It's been so long.”

Tati moved forward, pulling her into a welcoming embrace. She was slender, almost bird-like, but her grip was surprisingly strong.

"Too long, indeed," Tati echoed, her gaze appraising Zoey from head to toe. "You look just as youthful as I remember."

“Me? I should be saying that to you.” Zoey laughed.

“What can I say? Black don’t crack, and Asian don’t raisin. I’m the best of both.” Tati replied with a wink, her laughter light and easy.

They both chuckled, the shared history a warm, familiar blanket.

“I’m still convinced you sold your soul for your youth, though.”

Tati rolled her eyes fondly, leading her over to a plush velvet couch. “Flattery will get you nowhere, dear.”