Firefly

38: salsa to Despacito

Chapter 38: salsa to Despacito.

Elena

The wedding turned out to be beyond amazing. Every puzzle piece fit like it was meant to. Harley walked his last daughter down the aisle, the vows, the ceremony, just on point. The white and green aesthetic of the chapel hall had a complete contrary theme of a dark masquerade party on the second floor. 

Black masks detailed with gold glitters and motifs were a sight in themselves. We were all instructed to take off our masks once the bride and the groom performed their first dance and opened the dance floor for everyone else. 

I sucked in a sharp breath at the reflection of myself on the glass windows. The rich green popped against my skin and gave it an ethereal glow while the tastefully low V-neck transformed my modest B-cups into something more luscious. The skirt draped to the floor in graceful folds and would've been almost demure had it not been for the daring slit up one side. 

I brushed a hand ironing the dress. I was greeted with shimmering and subtle luminescence every time I moved, and when I turned and twisted my head, I could see the delicate straps crisscrossing over my back. 

The dress hugged my body like it was made for me. And the emerald set that now matched the ring on my hand made the look more elegant and minimalistic. 

"Here you go," I face the voice. I accept the glass of water that Ace hands me with a smile. He adjusts a strand of my curtained hair before pushing the waves behind my shoulders. I feel the length of the waves Spencer spent hours curling brush across my bare skin on my lower back. "Gorgeous." 

"Likewise, Mr. Dempsey," I say as my eyes scan his tuxedo. He flashes me a pleased smile. 

Our conversation remains temporal when Penelope Castor grabs Ace by his arm in a squall. "There's some issue with the valet. Charlotte needs you." 

I lionize how he comes back with another glass of water for Penelope before he takes off. 

She chugs the water, fanning sighs in between. Her strapless black gown with a low formal bun doesn't suit her fervid duty list. 

"Considering your itinerary, sweats would've been befitting," I admit. She chokes on her water as she juggles a laugh. My timing stinks. 

I hold onto her glass as she pacifies. She turns florid from the neck above. "Don't tempt me like that, Elena." I slacken at the flatness in her voice. "Not going to lie, two of my friends just asked me if I'd be willing to set you up on a blind date with their sons." She laughs before I pucker. "You dress up like that, you're bound to get betrothal offers, darling." 

I'm internally scandalized but I don't show it. "That's creepy." 

"I got it handled." Suddenly, I don't trust her boff or her wink. 

I pucker my bows. "How, if I may ask?" 

"I told them you're already with someone." I wheeze and Penelope holds my wrist. "And when they asked who, I said I didn't know." 

Yeah, I don't know either. But thanks for the imaginative boyfriend. It's a somewhat comforting excuse and it doesn't make me seem sad and lonely. 

I finally give in, creasing up. "Despite your need for sweats, you look stunning." 

She tints crimson while she flatters her hand on her dress. "Thank you. I can handle all this. I'm just praying that it doesn't rain." 

"It must be hard to pray against something you're so fond of." I squeeze her hands. 

Her sneer is confounding. "Not for me. I've always disliked the rainy weather. Wet weather has always triggered my OCD symptoms." She flashes her teeth to someone behind me. "Duty calls. Go dance." She instructs me before attending to the guests.