“Ugh, he has such a nice dick,” I moan as Ifinally reach thetable full of nicely wrapped presents.Just as I’m about to set it down, Fabia grabs the back of my dress andyanksme back.I yelp as the box flies out of my hands.Scrambling for it, I grab it before it can fall.My heart pounds wildly as Fabia turns me around to face her.
But my attention ison my box.I dig my fingers into the shiny paper and hold on tight as my world teeters.Hyattwillnotlike it if hegetsdropped.
“One, that’s not true.You drew me pics” –Fabiawrinkles her nose– “which I havenotforgiven you for by the way, and two, he came in, like, three seconds.”
I hiccup.“Four and a half.”I giggle.“I actually counted.”
Rolling her eyes, my best friend starts dragging meback through the sea of tables.
“Wait!I need to add my box to the pile!”I strain against her hold.I am so close to making it!
“No.” She yanks on my shoulder, pulling me back.
“Why are you being so mean?”I whine.“A good brownie is never mean.”
Sighing loudly, Fabia moves in front of me.“Because you came to the wedding full on drunk –”
“Did not.”I hiccup.A good brownie never lies, but I’m pretty sure I’m only 99.99999% drunk, so –
“And youalwaysdo stupid things when you’re drunk.”
“That’s not true!”
She raises a pretty lilac brow.“Six weeks ago, you went home with Karl.”
“He was sweet.”
“He was a nobhead.Still is.And he’s marrying yourmother.After having cheated on you with your sister.”
“But –”
“He broke up with you three days ago.Via an ad in the newspaper.”
“That was because he was busy.”
“Yeah,banging your mother.”
“But –”
“No.Stop making excuses for him.”She snaps her fingers in front of my face.I follow the movement, swaying on my feet.I wonder if she’s ever tried taming a centipede.Perhaps I can convince her to give it a go.It would make a great anniversarypresent for Mum and Karl.
I grin.
“In fact,” she adds, “stop making excuses for your whole messed up family.”
Hey!My family is not messed up.“Yeah, well, at least I have a family.”As soon as the words fly out of my mouth, my eyes widen.“Oh my gods.I didn’t mean that.I’m so sorry.”
She waves away my apology, causing me to frown.A good browniealwaysaccepts an apology.But I guess, in this case, Icanignore that.I did, after all, just use the family card on an orphan.
Maybe she is onto something about alcohol making me do stupid things…
But no, that can’t be right.
Because the last time I was drunk, I got a gorgeous tattoo on my butt.Best decision ever.
“And two days ago,” Fabia continued, “you tried to take out an ad telling everyone how lonely you were.And how even three seconds of action was better than the nothing you’d now be getting.You then went on to say how you didn’t want the last guy you had sex with to also be the same guy whose balls had touched your mother’s butt.”
I nod along even though I don’t understand her point.What woman wants their mother’s butt on theirs, put there by their fiancé’s balls?I gag.What woman wants their mother’s va–
