I sigh as I look in the mirror at my reflection. I brush my hair instinctively, trying to buy more time in my tiny hotel bedroom. Today is the day, you look fine. Stop touching your hair before you ruin it. My inner conscience won't shut up. Even she knows I have to go to this wedding, but I'd rather go running through a lightning storm with a huge medal pole. That would probably be more tolerable than this event I'm about to attend. It's not that I don't want to go to my cousin, Jessica's, wedding; it's just that I'd probably feel more comfortable staying home and studying for one of my many exams.

Jessica and I go way back, and by "way back" I mean she obviously did something horrifyingly bitchy towards me. Just in case you didn't catch that. It all started when I was a senior in high school, a naïve, unconfident, unattractive senior. I was living the high school dream, in my mind. In my peer's mind, I was a frizzy haired, smart girl. Don't get me wrong, I had friends, but most overlooked me as if I was invisible. But that was okay with me. Anyway, about halfway through my senior year, I got my first boyfriend, Mike. Mike was average, short blonde hair, blue eyes, toned body. We spent almost all of our time together, and after a few short months I knew I loved him. We weren't "in love", but we definitely had some mixed up high school version of love. It all started the day of my graduation. Everybody's graduation was a happy occasion full of hellos, goodbyes, and good lucks; except for mine. At my graduation party, not only did I find Jessica and Mike making out in my basement, but I also found out that they had been seeing each other for about 2 months. Apparently when they met at my great-aunt's birthday party, there was no turning back. I just wasn't important enough to be let in on their secret I suppose. They "couldn't contain their love" and "were meant for each other". I used to say bullshit back then, but now, 3 years later, it's their wedding day. All those years of cursing their relationship really paid off, not. In greater news, I've learned the wonders of hair and acne products, and shed a few fabulous pounds.

I let out an exasperated sigh as my roommate and wedding date, Rosalie Hale, yells my name from our hotel room's living room. She's been ready for about fifteen minutes now, and I've been stalling. I'll admit it any day, I'm the biggest procrastinator. Like the 'writing a paper last minute', 'getting ready with 5 minutes left' kind of procrastinator. As she calls my name again, I decide that I have to face my fear and leave the comfort of my hotel bedroom. You don't want to mess with Rosalie, she's a tough one.

I met Rose at freshmen orientation at New York University. Recently prettier, I was feeling more confident than usual, walking into the strange college. The moment I saw Rose all the confidence I had built up dropped. All the boys were already following her around like a puppy. Rosalie is drop dead gorgeous, one glance and you'll self-esteem will drop. Her long and thick blonde hair falls just above the bottom of her ribcage, and her ice blue eyes are enough to intimidate any human being, including me. We had just finished orientation when Scarlett approached me. Her exact words were "You seem normal, we're going to be great friends," and ever since them we have been great friends.

"Isabella Marie Swan! If you do not get your sweet ass down here I will come up there and drag you down here!" Rosalie's one of those people who will come up here and drag me by my Christian Loubitions down to the wedding. Oh, and I hate Christian Loubitions, but they were a present from Rose's parents and she's making me wear them.

Taking one last look in the mirror, I head downstairs. I take my sweet time going down the stairs, killing time, but also needing to go slow so I don't trip over my 6 inch heels. Rose's waiting at the bottom, impatiently tapping her Loubition clad foot. As I near the bottom, she gives me the ice queen death glare. I shoot her a look of caution, but she knows I'm trying to stall.

"Honestly Bella, you have nothing to worry about. You're over that loser, and you look fierce. Much better than Jess does, hell, you'll probably look better than her in her wedding dress! So stop being depressed and let's go, it starts in a half hour." Rosalie's pretty to the point. I have to admit, I do look pretty good. My strapless ocean blue and gold silk dress ends just above my knees and my Loubitions make my legs look miles long. Rose looks better in her ruby red silk v-neck halter dress, and I'm a hundred percent positive that her legs look way longer than mine.

"I know you're dying to get to this wedding and scope out possible man-meat Rose, but I'll admit, I really don't want to go!" She already knows this, but yet here I am, going to the wedding. I don't even wait for her response; I'm out the hotel door, walking down the hallway to the lobby. I hear the click of her heels as she follows me, but Rose doesn't catch me until I've made it to the lobby. We both maneuver the revolving door, out into the Cape Cod air, where a sleek black SUV is waiting for us (Blondie called ahead). Rose is shooting daggers at me, obviously wanting to get to the bottom of why I don't want to go if Mike and I are over, but I keep my eyes trained on the driver who's walking around the car to open the door for us. I climb into the car, and slide across the smooth black leather seats to make room for Rose. She hesitates; locking eyes with me, letting me know she's going to ask questions, before she gracefully gets in. After the driver has gone back to his seat and starts to pull away from our hotel, it starts.

"Why is this wedding such a big deal, Bella?" Rosalie turns to look at me. Here we go…

"You really want to know?" If she must know, I'll tell her. Even if she's going to lecture me. I'm really not in the mood for a lecture.

"No, Bella. I don't want to. I just asked so you wouldn't tell me." She glares at me.

"I just don't understand." I stop her before she asks what the hell I don't understand. "I don't understand how she can make him happier than I could. Why couldn't this be me right now? I had Mike first, and I know I'm over him and everything, but what if Jessica didn't happen and this was me? Would I be in love with Mike and be getting married to him? I hate to think that Jess ruined my fairytale because in my mind, she did." There was no beating around the bush. Rose wanted to know, so I put it all out there. Honestly, what if Jess and Mike didn't happen, and Mike and I continued our relationship? I could be crying tears of happiness with my mother and walking down that aisle blissfully with my father by my side, giving me away to the man of my dreams.

"Oh, Bella." Rose moves closer to me and pulls me into a hug. "Let's think about this. Is Mike the man of your dreams?"

"No."

"See? You wouldn't have realized this without Jess, so in reality this is a good thing. You should embrace it, actually. Go up to them and say 'Damn, Jessica, I'm glad you stole my boyfriend because now I realize he sucks!' or something equally bashful." I laugh. Rose always manages to make me feel better.

"I suppose you're right. Mike is definitely not the man of my dreams and I wish him and Jessica all the best in whatever they decide to do with their lives!" Rose laughs and gives me a 'Woo, you go girl' look because we've arrived at the wedding destination, a beach.

"…You may now kiss the bride!" Mike pulled Jessica into an over the top, gross, make-out session. Really? You could have a little class…

"I think I need a bucket, slut." Rosalie's shaking her head in disgust. I realize I'm doing the exact same thing. This really is nasty. Plus, Mike's a sloppy kisser, and you can totally tell right now.

"How much spit do you think they'll have to swap before Mike passes his STD to her?" I cock my head to one side, studying their continuous make-out.

"I'd give it about five minutes; you think it'll go for that long?" Right as Rose finishes her sentence, Mike and Jessica break apart. Finally.

They clasp hands and turn to face their audience. Everyone stands and politely claps, except for Mike's idiot fans who scream 'you get that!' Rose and I roll our eyes, but laugh. As soon as Mike and Jess are out of sight, all the guests begin to make their way from the beach ceremony , up a massive hill, to a ballroom in a fancy hotel.

"Fuck Bella, her dress was just… I don't even know the correct word. I'm appalled." I don't even look at Rose's face, because I know I'll burst out laughing.

"I know Rose, bad choice." Jess' choice of a mermaid style dress was not okay. First, her body type did not accentuate the tight fit of the dress. Second, it was too mermaid, if possible. The bottom literally had white fake scales. Jess either wanted to be Ariel, or went too far with the beach theme. I personally think it was both. And in my opinion, very tacky.

Rosalie and I joke about Jess' dream of becoming Ariel and marrying Prince Eric when we reach the ballroom. The ballroom has three large chandeliers hung on the high ceiling. The theme of the ballroom is, naturally, reds, golds, and browns. Jessica's decorations were… awful. She, unfortunately, stuck with her beach theme. The light and dark blues and sandy tones did not go with the colors of the ballroom. I actually feel bad for Jess, it's that bad.

We quickly find our table, the Starfish Table (yes, they're names after fish), and sit together. Most of the guests are floating around the venue, taking in the overlook of the ocean and the decorations. I have to admit, it's a gorgeous view. Stupid Jess and Mike's venue.

"I need a drink." Rosalie stands and looks at me. "The usual?"

"Definitely need the usual, maybe two?" I give her an uneasy look and she understands immediately. I definitely need the confidence right now.

Rose walks away, and I take a glance around the room. Jess and Mike are standing by the dance floor, accepting congratulations from guests. Ugh, fuck you all. Not that I'd want to be married at 21, but Mike was my last boyfriend. I'm sorely lacking in the relationship department. Don't get me wrong, I've had those drunk college hookups, but never a serious boyfriend. I just hate men. Well, that's not true. I just wish I'd find somebody who liked me for me.

My thoughts were interrupted by Rose putting two Jack and Coke's in front of me. Maybe they're not the frilliest drinks, but they taste damn good. I suddenly realized that we were not alone at the table. An older couple and a young couple with a small child sat at the table. The older couple were cooing at the baby, who was screaming his tiny head off. The parents to this baby were shoving bottles and pacifiers in his mouth, but he just spit them out. Learn how to take care of one before you have one.

I steal a glance at Rose who just rolls her eyes and focus' on the DJ tapping and testing the microphone. I take one long sip of my Jack and Coke.

"Testing? Hello? Testing?" The DJ man taps his microphone obnoxiously. "I'd like to have everyone take their seats so the bride and groom may share their first dance." He gestures towards the tables and all the guests scurry to their seats. Once everybody's seated, he beckons Jess and Mike onto the dance floor.

'Free' by Zac Brown Band starts playing softly over the speakers in the ballroom. Not my favorite choice for a first dance song, but I guess its okay. Mike and Jess wrap their arms around each other and sway gently to the music. It almost resembles a prom type of slow dance. Jess leans her head on his chest, and Mike lays his head on top of hers. Gag.

Rosalie nudges me while snickering at something. She discreetly points to the bottom of Jess' dress. I stand on my tip-toes to catch a look, and I silently laugh. The scales on the bottom of her dress have began falling off and now leave tiny holes in her dress, as well as scales all over the dance floor. I roll my eyes at Rosalie. She lifts up her apple martini and I clink it with my Jack and Coke. We nod in a silent agreement, cheers to that, bitch.