Three Strikes

I stood in the bathroom, applying my mascara carefully. Joe was in his bedroom. He’d come over earlier than planned in hopes of calming his nerves before the big ‘do.’ The dress was beautiful; it hugged my hips and flattered my pale skin. My complex was what separated and distinguished me from all of the LA tanned blondes. With my dark hair and light skin I was the sore thumb. After finishing the mascara I dusted my eyelids lightly with some glitter shadow and ran a straight line of grey eyeliner under the lids.

The dress was a striking ruby red; Joe and I had both decided that wearing anything ‘white’ or ‘pearl’ was a big no-no. It only the engagement party, not the actual wedding. My kitten heels were a striking red that matched the dress and my hair was pinned back in a butterfly clip. I avoided the rouge for tonight - my cheeks would be painted pink all night due to nerves. I grabbed my black satin purse as Joe knocked on the en-suite door. “Rose?”

I unlocked the door to see Joe standing in his semi-casual suit; it was like something he’d wear on stage (or so he told me). His pants were a dark grey as was his suit jacket. Beneath the jacket he wore a black waist coat, white crinkled shirt and tie. “I’m taking the jacket off as soon as we’re there,” he said, fiddling with his tie that he’d done moments beforehand. He looked up and smiled. “You look lovely.”

I pulled at the dress and shrugged. “It’s pretty,” I said. “I think it looked better on the mannequin though.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “Stop putting yourself down, idiot. You look fine.”

I rolled my eyes, “Full of compliments aren’t you, Jonas.”

“As always, Fletcher.” Joe winked and took a step back, surveying me. “And no flirting with other bigshots tonight, alright?”

“Why? Jealous?” I grinned. It was Joe’s turn to roll his eyes.

“No, not really. Just remember who you’re engaged to is all. Where’s the ring?” Joe asked, gazing at my hands.

I unclasped my purse and took out the heavy ring. Joe slipped it on my ring finger and smiled slightly. “Okay.”

“Right Jonas-in-the-Ranks, you ready?”

I smacked his arm, gliding past him. “Could you stop with that stupid name?” I asked him, exasperated.

Joe smiled mischievously. “Nope,” he sang, taking my hand. “C’mon. Rob’s driving us.”

“Rob?”

“Big Rob. Big, tall guy who drives me around when I ask him to. That Rob.” Joe said simply. “He offered to drive us.”

I rose a brow. “Offered or you made him?”

“Hey!” Joe cried, grabbing my hand as we left my apartment. “Rob’s a friend of my family. He was more than happy. He offered. I’m not the whole rock star throwing television sets out of the windows.” He pouted at me. “What do you take me for, Rosie?”

“A mug.” I answered, honestly, grinning as his eyes widened. He took a step backwards and suddenly his hands were on me, tickling every inch of skin he could reach. I giggled and screamed, trying as hard I could to get his hands off of me. “Joe!” I shouted as he carried on, laughing in my ear. “I’ll shout rape!”

His hands were off me in a flash and I nodded, proud of myself. Joe rolled his eyes and took my hand to the car that was waiting for us. He tried to hide it, but I could clearly see the smile playing on his lips.