“I bet you did,” Chelsea cackles, heading to wherever maniacs go this time in the morning.
I was sure that if I got up extra early, no one would spot me. It might have worked too if L’Corte hadn’t pulled me back into his apartment to kiss me stupid. He sent me on my way with an idiotic grin on my face and a promise to stop by the Requisitions Office to check on me in a few hours.
* * *
After a long,scorching hot shower, a ginormous breakfast (no judgments please, I burned quite a few calories last night), and some pointed questions from my roommates on my whereabouts the night before, I finally make my way to the Requisitions Office.
Turning the corner, my mouth drops open in shock. Dozens of women and quite a few lost-looking Cerastean males fill the hallway. The Requisitions Office is so full, people are spilling out of the room and down the hall.
I try to peek over some shoulders to see if I can spot D’Merx or any of the other guys who work in the office, but I’m too short even in my heels.
“Make room,” I yell, finally squeezing my way into the room.
I weave my way over to D’Merx’s desk, where he is sharing space with Natasha. Both of them look overwhelmed by the chaos reigning through the office.
I hear my name and turn to see L’Corte’s shocked eyes looking at me over the head of the worried bride-to-be just behind me.
“This isn’t going to work,” I announce loudly, attempting to speak over the murmuring crowd. “We need a space with way more room. Oh, and we need more computers!”
“Let me check with the chancellor and see if we can move this to the mess hall. I’ll be right back,” L’Corte calls out, before turning on his heel and making his way out of the crowd.
“Hey guys,” I yell, trying to get everyone’s attention. Only the few people closest to me notice the racket I’m making, so I try to yell again even louder but without success. I glance over at D’Merx and Natasha in concern. How are we going to manage this shitshow?
Natasha puts her index finger and thumb in her mouth and lets loose a loud, piercing whistle.
“Nice,” I compliment her before turning back to the now-silent crowd. “Hey everyone, I know this seems crazy right now. We are looking into moving this to an area with more room. As soon as we have a bigger space, I will let you know. For now, please just have patience, and we will get to each one of you. It just may take a little while.”
L’Corte comes rushing back a few minutes later and instructs everyone to head to the main mess hall to wait. He gets a few other Cerasteans to help grab extra computers, and we start setting up shop at the various tables in the main mess hall.
I spend the rest of the morning being called from one table to the next by brides needing a second opinion. I understand their predicament; it’s hard to make split decisions based on pictures on a computer screen. I dig deep for patience while the brides-to-be debate tea-length versus ball gown style versus mermaid silhouettes. It’s their big day, and I want to make sure they are happy.
“Trinh! Can you help me?” a voice calls out. I look over and see Krystal sitting in front of a computer with D’Uhurn hovering over her shoulder. I barely manage to contain my happy dance when I see him resting his hand on her shoulder. It looks like D’Uhurn didn’t waste any time after I talked to him yesterday.
L’Corte is standing nearby talking to them, but as I approach, he intercepts me. Sweeping me into his arms, he plants a kiss right on my lips in front of everyone. I guess he doesn’t mind PDA. When I hear a bunch of whoops and hoots around me, I raise a middle finger over L’Corte’s shoulder at these brats.
With a last smacking kiss, L’Corte sets me on my feet and nudges me towards Krystal and D’Uhurn.
“So… You and L’Corte, huh? Looks serious,” Krystal asks with a pleased grin.
“Definitely serious, but I’m not ready to put any labels on it yet. Everything’s so crazy right now with all the planning and the war. I’m just going with the flow,” I say with a shrug. I lean in to whisper, “Speaking of serious… It looks like things worked out between you and D’Uhurn?”
“Yeah. He just needed someone to talk some sense into him. Thank you for helping,” Krystal says, tugging me into a tight hug.
“Of course! I’m so happy for you both. Now, what did you need help with?”
Krystal is overwhelmed by all the ring choices. It takes a little while scrolling through all the styles and gem cuts, but by process of elimination, we narrow her choices down to two rings. She can’t decide between a cushion-cut solitaire ring or a square princess-cut ring with a simple white gold band. I finally suggest she close her eyes and picture her hand in fifty years.
“What ring do you see on your finger?” I ask.
Krystal’s eyes pop open with a gasp. “That one,” she exclaims, pointing at the princess-cut ring.
“Nice choice. It’s going to look amazing on you.”
“How do I know what size to order?”
“You don’t know your ring size?” I ask in mock-shock. “You need that information so D’Uhurn can start buying you gifts,” I tease, making D’Uhurn snort from behind me.
“What size is your ring finger? My hand is a bit bigger than yours,” Krystal asks, holding up her hand to compare to mine.
