Helen Hoang - The Bride Test

Just as she was coiling up to make a jump for it, the door in the other room squeaked open.

No.

Was it the bride? Was she going to change her dress again?

She stood still and held her breath. Measured footsteps padded around. Who was it?

There was the pop and hiss of a can of soda being opened, and the footsteps came closer.

No, no, no, no.

She couldn’t get caught in her underwear like this. Holding her arms to her breasts, she glanced about the room in a blind panic. No way out, only a closet. Without further thought, she sprinted into the closet and shut herself inside.

The door was the shuttered kind, and looking through the slats, she had a good view of the doorway. Step, step, step, step. The footsteps sounded heavy, male. Was it the groom? A hotel janitor? What was the most embarrassing thing that could happen? Knowing her stinky luck, she should expect that.

Khải strode into the room.

She pressed her forehead to the closet door in defeat. Of course it was him. He scanned the room and sat in an empty armchair across from the closet. After taking a sip of his Coca-Cola, he set it on the floor by his feet and continued reading the book with the spaceship and alien demon thing on the cover.

She almost groaned in frustration. She couldn’t continue hiding in the closet waiting for him to finish reading when he was reading waiting for her. She had to walk out and explain herself. How could she word things so he didn’t laugh as much?

He reached for his Coke can, but as he was lifting it to his mouth, his gaze caught on something. Following his line of sight, she saw her discarded dress and shoes. Did he recognize them?

Oh no, was he drawing certain conclusions?

There was nothing for it. She had to come out and explain herself. She pressed her palms to the closet door, preparing to push it open, but Khải jumped to his feet.

He angled his head to the side like he was listening to something.

That was when she heard it.

Stumbling footsteps in the adjoining room. They came closer. And closer. A loud thump sounded, like someone had slammed themselves against the wall. A moan.

Khải backed away from the door. He contemplated the window before his gaze locked on the closet.

Another thump on the wall. The footsteps grew louder. Another moan.

In three long strides, he crossed the room and yanked the closet door open. His jaw fell open when he saw her, but there wasn’t time for surprise. He shut himself in the closet with her right as a couple stumbled through the door.

Naked.

That was the only thought Khai’s brain was capable of.

Naked.

He’d looked at her for less than a second before he shut them both in the closet, but it had been enough to see almost everything. Bare shoulders, full breasts that threatened to overflow the cage of her arms, tucked-in waist, lush hips, and white cotton panties with a little bow in the middle.

Delete, delete, delete. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to erase the image from his mind. But that made the sounds from the other side of the closet door louder.

Heavy breathing. Wet kissing sounds. Hands on fabric. The zzzzip of pants coming undone. Oh fuck, were they doing what he thought they were doing?

He looked through the slats and saw the couple intertwined on the floor. He didn’t recognize the woman, but her blond hair marked her as a friend of the family. With his jerry curls and red leather jacket, the man couldn’t be mistaken as anyone other than his cousin Van. Maybe he was pursuing his fourth marriage now. Khai had no clue how that look worked so well for his cousin.

The two moaned simultaneously before their bodies began writhing rhythmically.

Dammit.

Khai turned away from the slats, but then he was looking at Esme again. Light spilled in alluring stripes over her smooth skin, outlining the length of her neck, the ripe curve of her breast, and—

Rule Number Six.

He covered his eyes with a hand and wished he was anywhere else in the world. He’d had enough of thinking about Andy, making people cry, and wanting Esme.

Antarctica would be a good change of pace. Glacial mountain peaks, barren expanses of pristine snow, emptiness, calm, the smallness of man—

“Oh wow. Wow. Wow,” the woman cried out. “Wowie!”

Khai’s focus shattered, and he dropped his hand away from his eyes. Wowie? Really? What the hell was Van doing out there?

A smothered choking sound drew his attention before he could spy on the couple again, and he found Esme’s shoulders shaking as she laughed into her palm. He supposed it was kind of funny, but he never laughed along with her. She’d taken an arm away from her chest, and he swore he could almost see one of her nipples. He wasn’t sure with all the shadows, but there was a dark—

Hell. He was in hell.

He stared at the wall, trying his best not to respond to the live porn both outside and inside the closet. It was impossible. The woman’s cries kept getting louder. Did Esme make those sounds? He hoped she didn’t say wowie. But something else. Like maybe … his name. His entire body hardened at the thought, and his skin went ultrasensitive. His pulse sped up. He attempted to put more space between them, but the side of the closet brought him up short. There was no escape.

How much longer could this go on? Were Van and his lady trying to set some sort of world record?

Eventually, the noises came to a horrible crescendo and then quieted. Van tottered drunkenly to his feet and helped his partner up. They straightened their clothes with awkward conversation and disappeared. Khai waited for a count of sixty before he pushed the closet door open and walked out. He took a breath, and the air smelled like — no, he wasn’t going to think about what the air smelled like. An involuntary shudder coursed through him.

Esme followed him out of the closet, her cheeks reddened to a fantastic lobstery sheen, and went to get her green dress and shoes — he’d thought they looked familiar. Keeping her back to him, she stepped into her dress and pulled it up. A woman’s back wasn’t one of the restricted body parts mentioned in the footnotes of the Rules, so he let himself look. But it still felt like rule breaking. The curve at the base of her spine was one of the most elegant things he’d ever seen.

“Help me?” she asked, looking at him over her shoulder.

His feet took him to her on their own. As his heart pounded loud in his ears, he fumbled with the zipper and pulled it along the graceful line of her back, covering her perfect skin. When he finished, she turned around, and their eyes met.

“I wanted to wear the wedding dress,” she whispered. “But I couldn’t reach it.”

He glanced at the wedding gown hanging on the curtain rod. Yeah, she was definitely too short for that. “Do you want me to get it down for you?”

A smile worked over her face, one of those mind-scrambling, breathtaking smiles that made her eyes greener. He’d caused that smile. The knowledge sent warmth melting through him, better than a big sweater fresh from the dryer.

“Why are you smiling?” he asked.

Her smile widened. “You didn’t laugh.”

“Why would I?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Where did you go? I looked everywhere for you.”

“I took a walk outside. To clear my head. I’m not … good with people.” And the banquet hall and hotel had felt suffocating. Once he’d realized what was missing, he’d started to notice all the places where Andy should have been. Getting a drink at the wet bar, standing with the groomsmen, at Khai’s side …

“I’m also not good with people,” she said.

That was a revelation to Khai, and when he looked at her then, her imperfections stuck out for the first time. One of her eyebrows arched more than the other. Her nose wasn’t as straight as he’d thought. There, on the left side of her neck, a tiny birthmark. She wasn’t a photoshopped image on a magazine. She was a real person, flawed. Oddly, that made her more beautiful. She was also smart in her own strange way, with a sense of fairness that resonated with his own. She wasn’t at all what he’d thought in the beginning.

She stepped toward him, and when she bit her bottom lip, his eyes tracked the movement, mesmerized by the way her white teeth scraped over the full red skin. What if he leaned down and kissed her?

Would she let him? What would it be like to bring their mouths together? To feel those red lips against his own? To delve inside and claim—

Something skated lightly against his hand.

Cold. Unexpected. Wrong.

“What the—” He jerked away on reflex, way too quickly and violently, and she startled and backed away from him with wide eyes.

“Sorry,” she said as she hugged her hand to her chest. She’d touched him, maybe to hold hands, and he’d frightened her. He hated frightening people.

Explanations piled up on his tongue, but he didn’t know where to start. He didn’t even know if he should bother. What was the point? After this summer, they were never going to see each other again.

The impression of her touch remained on his skin, shimmery and unpleasant, and he knew from experience the sensation wouldn’t fade for another day. Light touches did that, and it was worse when people caught him by surprise. Like she had. If she’d warned him, and if she’d touched him the right way, maybe … He shook his head at his thoughts. There was no maybe.