Save the Date by Tamara Summers Read Free Book Online

find it less fun if I had to do it for free.”
    “Shyeah,” I say. I’m feeling a bit less witty now that he’s standing literally inches away from me. His arm is practically brushing mine. He’s looking at the shelves of tiaras with intense interest, but I wonder if he’s noticed how close we’re standing.
    “So tell me about Victoria,” Leo says. “What kind of wedding is she having?”
    “The key word is flowers,” I say. “And the other key word is Renaissance festival.”
    “Yeeee, really?” Leo says. “I mean, ahem, sorry, professional face: That sounds SO lovely.I’m sure it’s going to be the most BEAUTIFUL day.”
    I giggle. “Think lace and pastel colors and Celtic harps, and you’ll be on the right track.”
    “All right,” he says. “Maybe…this one?” He pulls out a tiara that’s got silver daisies woven along it. It’s totally perfect.
    “Wow—yeah, that’s really Vicky,” I say admiringly.
    “Try these two as well,” he says, taking down two more that have flower motifs. “But she might want to skip the veil/tiara thing altogether and just wear flowers in her hair. I’ve seen a couple of brides do that, and it sounds like it would match her wedding.”
    Aha, I think regretfully. He’s gay. Well, that was a short-lived fantasy.
    “My mom’s been doing this a long time,” he explains, a little sheepishly.
    “Okay,” I say, taking the three tiaras. Our hands brush as he passes them over, and I feel a weird tingle of excitement shiver across my skin.
    “Thanks.” I smile at him, then turn to carrythem back to Victoria.
    “So,” he says quickly, “um…how’s your bridesmaid dress? Do you hate it?”
    “Oh, totally,” I say. “It’s horrendous.”
    “Can I see it?” he says charmingly. “I might be able to help.”
    “Definitely not,” I say, grinning at him. “You definitely can not see me in this dress.”
    He grins back, and I have to scamper behind the curtains before he sees how much I’m blushing.
    “OMG,” I whisper to Sofia. “Sexy Yo-Yo Guy is here.”
    “He is?” she says, bolting up out of her seat.
    “Where?” I seize her before she can poke her head out of the curtain.
    “Don’t look,” I hiss. “But guess what—he’s Carolina’s son.”
    “WHAT?”
    “Shhhhhhhhhhhh!”
    “You most certainly do not look like a whale, Lucille,” Carolina’s voice says patiently from the back room.
    “I dooooooooo!” Lucille howls. “My belly fat is sticking out all over the place!”
    “Did you talk to him?” Sofia whispers excitedly. I see Alex giving us a suspicious glance.
    “Yes—tell you later,” I whisper back. “I have to take these to Vicky.”
    “Good luck with that,” Sofia jokes. “She’s in a bit of a snit about Lucille’s tantrum.”
    Uh-oh. I sidle into the back room where Vicky is slouching in an armchair, fully outfitted in her bridal regalia, with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Lucille is standing on the pedestal in front of the mirror, with my mom and Carolina flitting anxiously around her.
    “I think you look fine,” Vicky snaps.
    “But loooooooook,” Lucille whines, poking her stomach.
    All right. It’s probably time for me to describe Victoria’s choice of bridesmaid dress. But first let me start by giving you some context—that is, by describing the last two bridesmaid dresses that I had to wear. That way you can appreciate the true horror of the relentless fashion crimes beingperpetrated on me.
    Alex’s wedding was a really traditional, classic affair, in a church, with pretty much everything you’d expect from the world’s two most boring people. Except for her bridesmaid dresses, which I don’t think any other bride has ever inflicted on her friends. She made us wear these strapless A-line red satin dresses—sounds okay so far, right? But for no apparent reason , these dresses came with giant poofy rosettes sewn on them—one on the left boob, one on the right hip, a whole row around