Virgin Lips

25. What could he be possibly hiding from me?

"Joanna?"

I heard my name coming from a familiar female voice. I swiftly turned around, so quick that I almost felt my head spin. "Hope?"

The tall blonde girl I hadn't seen in a while grinned, coming my way. "What are you doing here?" She wondered as she enveloped me in a tight hug. I had some photography equipment in my hands, so I tried to do my best to hug her back without breaking anything. She wore a green silk dress that made her absolutely stunning, I gotta say.

"I'm ... working." I mentioned as I pulled back.

"Working?"

I pointed at Ben, who was busy talking with brides and grooms. "Ben was hired for the photoshoots, I'm here as his assistant."

"That's wonderful!" Hope grinned, truthfully happy. "I'm here because Mr. Wharton is daddy's CFO," she rolled her eyes, "his wife is insufferable, and Libby Wharton is a nightmare, but ..." she shrugged, we had to." Rich people problems.

"Is Faith here, too?"

"I wish!" Hope scoffed. "That bitch made up some silly excuse not to come." She rolled her eyes. "It's probably for the best anyway, Libby and Faith ... well, better not have them in the same room."

I couldn't help but chuckle, nodding. I don't know what happened between the two, but 10 to 1, Libby Wharton wouldn't get out of a match with Faith alive. "Well, I gotta say it's nice to see a friendly face." I admitted.

"I know right!" Hope grabbed my hand, squeezing it. "You've been quite busy lately." She eyed Ben. "I guess love triangles tend to do that to a girl."

My eyes widened in shock. "What? No!" I unconsciously glanced at Ben, who was actually heading our way. "No, no ... we're ... I mean, he's gay!" Joanna, seriously. Your first answer should have been, I'm with Jeremy. Jesus, what is wrong with me?

Then again, am I with Jeremy? It's only been a month and we only kissed once. I mean, sure, he's called me every night this week, and we spent at least an hour talking, but ... in the end, did we define our relationship?

Hope took a long look at Ben, as if she was seeing him for the very first time. He was wearing black jeans, with a grey pullover over a white shirt – same as I was: on day 2, Mrs. Wharton presented us with a "uniform". I would wonder how did she find out my size, but I'm not sure I even want to know.

"Hey, Hope." Ben greeted with a tired smile. Only a few hours into the wedding day and we were both already exhausted, yeah. It was the last day, thankfully. We didn't even get out day off, because Mrs. Wharton decided we ought to make her money – or rather, her husband's money – worth, so while brides and grooms were having their bachelor and bachelorette parties, we had to all the way to the Wharton mansion in Hartford and take all the pictures we possibly could. It was totally unrelated to the weddings, actually. But, according to Mrs. Wharton, she was allowed to ask because her husband had been way too generous with our pay.

"Hey, Ben." Hope smiled politely, yet staring at him as if expecting something. A hug? They don't know each other well enough for that. Or maybe she was expecting him to gulp and faint at the sight of her heart-stopping beauty. She's still not convinced he's gay, it seems.

Ben took off his glasses for a moment, and raked a hand over his face. "Well, JoJo, it turns out we wasted the last 3 hours of the day." He sighed.

"What?" I turned to him, on the verge of a heart attack, because I don't think I can redo everything – again!

"Yeah, one of the brides doesn't like the photos we took by the fountain. She wants to redo them all."

"You gotta be kidding me ..."