I meet her emerald eyes in the reflection in the mirror, but when she tilts her head to the side and starts tapping her chin in a familiar way I’ve seen a thousand times, I furrow my brow.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
She shrugs. But also, grins.
“What are you scheming?”
That grin grows so wide it forces her red-painted lips to spread out across her face. “Do you really want me to enjoy my bachelorette party?”
I roll my eyes. What kind of question is that? “Of course I do.”
“Like you really, really want me to, and you’d do anything to make it happen?”
I narrow my eyes at her in the mirror. “Considering I gave you my very expensive event planning services for free and spent weeks planning this night, I’d say, yes, that’s the general sentiment.”
“Fantastic,” Belle responds and takes off her black jacket, her white bride-to-be sash, and begins unzipping the back of her short, silver-sequined dress.
“Wait…what are you doing?” I query and turn my head away from the mirror to look directly at her.
“Making sure I live to see the morning after my bachelorette party.”
I quirk a brow, but she ignores my confusion and shoves her jacket and sash into my chest.
“Switch me,” she demands and slides her heels off her feet. “You play bride for the rest of the night, and I’ll play maid of honor and party planner.”
“Belle,” I retort and shake my head. “No way.”
“Sophie,” she says and slides her dress off her body so she’s standing in the middle of the bathroom in only her bra and underwear. “Yes.”
“This feels like high school all over again,” I mutter and exhale a deep breath on a sigh. “We’re twenty-eight, Belle, don’t you think we’re a little old to be Parent-Trapping your fucking bachelorette party?”
“We’re identical twins, Soph,” she retorts and takes it upon herself to remove my faux fur jacket from my shoulders. “No one is going to know the damn difference.”
“Katelynn will.”
“Katelynn is too drunk to care.” She snorts and holds out a demanding hand that contains her dress. “Now, give me your clothes.”
I glance down at my favorite high-waisted dress pants and silky blouse and then at the dress in her hands.
You’d think since I’ve made a career out of planning parties and events, I would’ve been able to make sure my own sister’s bachelorette bash went off without a hitch, but here I am, right in the middle of a giant-fucking-snag.
When the sounds of pounding knocks filter in from the locked door of the restroom, I know I need to decide. And even though it’s not the direction I wanted the night to go, there’s really only one option here to keep things from spiraling out of control. Goddamn my Type 9 Enneagram people-pleasing core.
“You’re lucky I love you.” I snatch the dress out of her hands.
Belle beams just like a spoiled brat who got her way—because she is one.
I swear, the things I do for my sister.
“All right, it’s time for the bride-to-be to take her seat!”
The lights in our private VIP room are dimmed, and I’m ushered over to a chair that sits in the center of the small but spacious room.
When my ass hits the velvet cushion, I try to adjust the tight material of Belle’s dress, but it’s almost no use. The sequined-covered spandex is tight in all the wrong places, and I feel like I might inadvertently flash my goods at any second. To the untrained eye, our bodies are nearly identical, just like our faces—but my T and A have a little bit more meat than hers, and in a dress of this cut, a little bit goes a long way.
Good grief, for a girl who hates being the center of attention, my sister sure loves to dress in an attention-grabbing way…
I flash a discreet glare at Belle, but she just giggles and lifts her champagne glass in the air. “Cheers to the bride-to-be!”
My sister is a little biotch.
Katelynn and the rest of our group join in on her toast, and I’m tempted to flip Belle the middle finger. But I shake off my annoyance and try to remember the fact that my sister looks relaxed and happy—playing me for the night—and that’s the whole intention of this party.
To make sure my twin has a good time.
Even if it means I have to spend the next sixty minutes playing grab-ass with one of Club Craze’s male exotic dancers.
“Ladies, I’d like to introduce you to Jude,” our female hostess announces and opens the door to reveal a man dressed in black slacks and a white button-down shirt with sleeves folded to his forearms.
He’s tall, and the muscular lines of his body can’t be missed beneath his clothes.
With light brownish-blond hair and a little scruff on his chin, this guy reminds me of a young Brad Pitt. I’m talking sexy Fight-Club Brad Pitt mixed with Ocean’s-Eleven Brad Pitt to create some kind of insanely attractive superhuman.
“Good evening, ladies.” He flashes a sexy smirk that slides through the room and ultimately lands on my wide eyes. “As Kelsie said, I’m Jude, and I’ll be taking over to make sure you have a good time.”
I swear, those eyes of his are as blue as the freaking ocean, and their depths are downright hypnotic. It’s like I can’t look away even if I wanted to.
Holy hell.
Self-preservation in the form of distraction speeds up in my head, and somewhere in the whirling thoughts, a bell of recognition rings. I pull myself out of the insane trance of his eyes to focus on an inconsistency. “I thought Maverick was supposed to…” I start, only to pause when I realize my faux pas. I definitely shouldn’t be the one asking this question since, technically, I’m Belle for the night and every step of the itinerary has been a surprise for her, but luckily, no one picks up on the mistake. They’re all too busy staring at Jude.
“Unfortunately, Maverick realized he wasn’t man enough to handle this party of beautiful women, so I went ahead and stepped up to the plate.” Jude winks, and I throw up in my mouth a little. By God, the cheesiness of that line knows no bounds.
Our hostess snorts and nudges him in the side with her elbow, but he just laughs it off and moves his gaze back to me.
“I take it you’re the gorgeous bride-to-be?” he inquires with a little rasp in his voice.
I swallow thickly, trying to find the words in my dry mouth like an animal searches for water in the desert. It only takes a few moments to give up, however, because despite my debut as a mime, he’s striding right toward me. Each step is calculated and with purpose, and a shiver threatens to slip up my spine.
“She sure is!” Tonya shouts at the top of her lungs. “That’s our girl Belle!”
Kirsten and Laura pretend to fan themselves. Katelynn laughs. Belle stares at me over the top of a glass of champagne with wide, amused eyes.
With one long hand stretched out toward me and veins making themselves known on his forearms, Jude grips the fabric of the sash around my chest and smirks down at me.
“You ready to have some fun?”
Oh boy. Now that line or move isn’t cheesy. At all.
I nod. Gulp. Nod again. “Uh-huh.”