Drugs, Treasons and Other Demons

75. LADY IN RED

My heart was beating twice too fast, and I couldn't get rid of the shy grin on my lips. I gave the dress another twirl, and its long red train effortlessly wrapped around my ankles. I shimmied a little to shake the fabric loose.

"Is it too much?" I asked.

Pablo stood with his mouth half open, caressing his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue.

"Well, I told you to dress nice, but–"

"But what?" I mumbled, as a lump grew in my throat.

He smirked, and sighed. "The rule of thumb is that you don't outshine the bride"

I grabbed his hand before it slipped under the fabric, right where the dress' slit opened at the top of my hip.

"Rules are meant to be broken," I murmured. "And I'm going to break your thumbs."

He let out a chuckle and kissed me. Not on the temple, not on the forehead, not on the cheek. He kissed me right on my smiling lips, as his hand gently pressed between my shoulders, bringing his heart a little closer to me.

I could feel it thrumming in his chest, beneath his half-open shirt, pounding faster than it usually did. Perhaps it was because he'd just snorted yet another line of cocaine, or maybe it was just the effect my dress had on him.

"We should go," he said, as his hand slipped to the small of my back. "Hernan wants us to be there early."

"So I can wear this dress?" I asked. "Or is it too provocative?"

"I mean, at this point, it's this one or nothing," he shrugged. "And I don't think Manée would be happy if you showed up naked at her wedding."

"Do you think she'll be mad at me?"

"Of course, she will," he answered, and started walking me back to the car, "but there's no avoiding that, Gordita. You'd still outshine her in a potato sack."

Despite the few dozen cars blaring their horns behind our backs, Pablo still took the time to fix my hair once I sat in the passenger's seat. His fingers followed the curl of a loose strand, gently stroking my cheek on their way down.

I took a deep breath as he started the car, and began to drive down the street. No matter what came my way, I would survive this stupid wedding. I'd try my best to do so, at least.

"Don't open the window, you'll mess up your hair," he said, just as I lay my finger on the button.

I turned to face him, and he was staring right at me. Yet, the car was speeding ahead, Pablo's hands were steady on the steering wheel, and his foot pressed down on the gas pedal whenever we drove down a wider street.

"Look at the road," I told him.

"I can't," he replied. "I can't take my eyes off of you."

"You're about to drive off a cliff," I lied, as I pointed at the road ahead.

Pablo grinned, never breaking eye contact, and gently pat me on the knee. "That's okay, I'll die a happy man."

"Stop fucking around," I spat, pushing his hand off my thigh and back onto the steering wheel. "You're acting all creepy."

"I'm sorry, I can't help it."

I frowned at him as if I was annoyed, but pinched my lips to hold back a smile. After all, I was nothing but a silly love-starved girl who'd craved to be showered in compliments and longing gazes for my entire life.

I carefully picked up the long train of my dress, folding it over my knees so it wouldn't wrinkle too much. I caressed the soft fabric, delighted by how expensive it felt and made me feel.