Under the Same Stars(31)
A receptionist led our group through an archway into a spacious room lined with racks of gowns. Svelte mannequins modeled various colors and styles, and mirrors sparkled in the bright light. We were officially in bridesmaid heaven (or hell), no wedding dresses in sight. Katie hadn’t mentioned if she’d already said yes to her dress. “Please relax and feel free to enjoy some complimentary champagne,” the receptionist said, gesturing to a white chesterfield couch. A bottle of bubbly and empty flutes sat on the nearby glass coffee table. “Viv, our stylist, will be out shortly to assist you.”
“Pop it, Katie!” Meredith shouted several minutes later, over FaceTime on Yasmin’s phone. We cheered after the cork flew through the air, and Katie grinned as her mom took over to pour glasses for everyone.
“No, thank you,” I said when Mrs. Gallant offered me a fizzy flute. “I’ll stick with water.” I pointed to the Poland Spring bottles.
She smiled. “You are so responsible, just like your brother.”
“Not to mention, I’m very underage,” I quipped, though I was glad she respected Austin’s sobriety. Special occasions only!
I’ll be honest: I lost interest in dress shopping almost as soon as it began. My preferred shopping style was online from the comfort of my bed, and it turned out others felt that way, too. Three bridesmaids were elected to model the gowns while the rest of us squeezed together on the cushy couch, happy to assess like we were at New York Fashion Week. Reese, tall and slender, stood on the runway with petite Yasmin, along with Courtney, who winked at us and said, “In your dreams do you have my curves!”
The trio modeled off-the-shoulder sage green chiffon gowns, as well as some type of violet stretch fabric (whose high slit Mrs. Gallant immediately deemed too sexy), and a red wine–colored velvet dress with a deep V neckline and fluttery cap sleeves. “This is stunning,” Courtney said about the latter. She laughed. “But my boobs are totally in your face…”
“We can of course make alterations as needed,” stylist Viv said. “Velvet dresses are best suited for autumn or winter weddings. You’re having a December wedding, correct?”
“No offense, Katie,” Reese said from the runway, “but have you chosen your colors yet? These are a little all over the place.”
My thoughts exactly, I agreed. Maybe Katie did have a color in mind, but we were searching for a style first?
Katie looked uncomfortable, shifting in her seat. I caught her eyes flitting to her mom before they locked with Amanda to have what looked like a silent sister sidebar.
After a few beats, Amanda rose from her spot on the couch. “Mom, Katie and I are going to take another loop.” She turned to the stylist. “We could use your expertise, Viv. The velvet is gorgeous, but I think Katie is looking for something a little more unique style-wise.”
Mrs. Gallant’s brow crinkled. “Unique?”
Stylist Viv sensed the tension brewing. “Have you found your mother-of-the-bride dress yet, Stacy?” she asked. “Because if not, we have a lovely selection in the other room…”
Reese, Yasmin, and Courtney—still in their dresses—joined us on the couch after Mrs. Gallant and her glass of champagne wandered away with another stylist to browse.
“Paige, put your tablet away!” Courtney nudged her cousin. “Did you see Katie’s face earlier?”
“But I have a deadline,” Paige protested. “This YA cover is a trainwreck…” Then she added under her breath, “And you’re one to talk. You were on the phone.”
Courtney straightened up in her seat. “It was an emergency.”
Reese changed the subject. “So, Mads, why didn’t you tell us about last weekend?”
“Last weekend?” I asked, not really paying attention. Ever since Katie and Amanda had been swallowed up by the sea of dress racks, I’d been refreshing my Gmail account—hoping, wishing, praying that a new email would magically pop up from Penn’s coach. Austin said I’d been obsessing, and obviously he was right, but I was nervous about visiting Princeton next weekend without a sign from their rival. Because unofficial visits…they usually ended with an offer to commit. I didn’t want to commit to Princeton if Penn was still considering me.
“Yes, last weekend…” Reese said coyly.
“Specifically,” Paige picked up, tablet now tucked in her tote bag. “Your junior prom.”
Oh, I realized.
“Who was that guy in your Instagram post?” Yasmin asked. “He was hot!”
“It was the lax bro from Katie and Austin’s engagement party,” Reese answered before I could, that encounter apparently living in her head rent-free. “The one Mads insisted she didn’t have feelings for…” She raised a brow at me.
“Because it’s true.” I felt myself flush. Why did we have to talk about this again? It was embarrassing. “I don’t have feelings for Connor.”
“That picture totally says otherwise,” Paige said. “His hand on your waist while you’re smoothing down his hair, him smiling and you laughing…” She sighed. “Gah! If there weren’t a pool with a fake grotto and waterslide in the background, it would make an amazing book cover.” She Face-IDed into her phone. “Actually, I’m going to take a screenshot for inspiration.”