Page 19 of Wicked Love

Unknown:

9-1-1

Before I had time to reply, another message came through.

Unknown:

It’s Grace, by the way.

Anger pooled in my belly. How did she get my number? I thought I told her to forget about me the last time we talked. Sure, I knew we’d bump into each other at some point tonight, but I had planned on keeping as much distance between us as humanly possible.

Me:

Forget I exist. I thought I had been clear the last time.

Unknown:

I need your help. I wouldn’t ask if there was anyone else I could text.

Please.

Me:

Why?

Unknown:

It’s humiliating enough. Don’t ask for a picture.

Me:

Is it another one of your tricks?

Unknown:

Joe. Please. A girl needs help. Now. Or I’ll be late for our parents’ wedding.

Me:

Fine. Where are you?

Unknown:

My bedroom. Hurry.

I returned my attention to my cousin. “Sorry, man. Something came up. Can we talk later?”

“Sure. Go.” He dismissed me with a hand.

As I rushed toward the house, I wondered what Grace wanted help with. Deep down I hoped it wouldn’t be an orgasm. With her, nothing seemed too far-fetched.

The door of her bedroom opened before I could knock.

“What the—what did you do?” I asked, blinking at the scene unfolding in front of me.

“Shut up and help me out. I’m suffocating, and it’s gonna rip if you don’t remove it off me.”

Grace was stuck in her maid of honor gown. And when I said stuck, I wasn’t kidding. The fabric was strained and ballooned into a mess around her body. From where I stood, I had the perfect view of her creamy thighs and white panties. Layers of red and light gray tulle and taffeta went in all directions, and she had one arm hanging by her side and the other, straight in the air above her head as if she had tried to put the gown on and got attacked by it instead.