"The man of my dreams is a girl" + "I love you, bitch" + almost wedding crashing + a hint of the coffee shop au I never got around to writing

Thanks for the support over the past months. I really appreciate the favorites and reviews. I hope you enjoy this final installment and I'll see ya'll later :))

Getting married on Valentine's Day was such a damn cliché. The fact that Jess loved the idea of it made her insides curl up into a tightly-wound, fiery hot ball of rage.

The rage was directed at no one else besides herself. There was a major dilemma on her hands, and it was her own fault she was nose-deep in this mess.

Her best friend in the whole wide world was tying the knot today. She was making it official with some jerk who didn't know the first thing about true romance. Sure, he would whip up a sweet "I love you" card from Hallmark, a bouquet of rich red roses, and a box of velvety chocolates— but that was all bullshit. Today, her best friend was tethering herself to the completely wrong person and it was all a mistake and Jess had to stop this at all costs.

There was another issue, however: she was not invited to this cursed wedding… so she decided desperate measures had to be taken.

This whole debacle began about two years ago, when Jess met her best friend in the whole wide world working in a coffee shop. Em was a terrible barista, complete with butter fingers that dropped the smallest of things and a knack for mixing up orders, then getting angry at the customer for her own screw-up.

She was probably about a day away from getting fired when Jess scooped her up. She had been watching Em from afar for a while, considering all the possibilities those chocolate eyes and sour smirk held. One day she finally drew up the courage to march up to the counter, order a venti caramel latte— because she was definitely gonna be there a while— and slip a piece of paper with her number on it into Em's hand along with the dollar bills.

It worked like a charm. Until it didn't. Her intentions were not matched nor reciprocated by Emily. Her offers of not-exactly-chaste cheek kisses and not-exactly casual brushing of their fingers backfired. It did not lead to lovely make out sessions and long-term hand holding. It only seemed to push Em farther away from her, deeper into strictly platonic territory.

And then she met Matt. Jess hated him upon first sight. Em loved him, obviously, from first sight. And the worst part of this was: Matt was a great guy. He was genuine, he was sweet, he was heartfelt. He was just terrible with the whole romance thing— he gave her the most generic-ass gifts a girl could (not) ask for.

Jess tried to set out to put a stop to this, but she was a little slow on the uptake. As she fell deeper into love with her best friend, her best friend was swept into the arms of adorable, nice, former football player Matt. When he proposed, her answer was obvious. They set the date for good ol' V-day, because what else could be any more cliché than that?

Then, a few weeks ago, Jess fucked it up. She was at the top of the pack, beta maid of honor to Em's alpha bridezilla. She was comfortable in her little slot of power, scurrying around helping make preparations while ill intentions of sabotage brewed in her mind. She even tried to confide in Mike, Em's former boyfriend, but he was useless as always.

So it ended with bitter confrontation. Emily was heartbroken, Jess was heartbroken, it was terrible. The worst part of this was: Jess failed to admit her feelings. All she revealed was her plans to ruin all the festivities— and naturally that didn't sit too well with the bride-to-be. So Jess was kicked out and replaced with that goody-goody bookish redhead Ashley from Emily's work. So much for friendship.

But now, at last, she had formulated an effective plan to win Em back: break down the doors of the church, yell "I object!" dramatically, and take off with Em's elbow linked in hers while Em wrapped her arms behind Jessica's neck and kissed her beautifully. The scene was so idyllic, colorful, and flawless in her mind. Nothing could go wrong!

Jess stood behind the tree, hugging its rough, bark-lined trunk as she leaned around it to spy on the church. It was about five or so minutes into the ceremony, she estimated, and anytime now she would make her great entrance.

Just a few more minutes. Okay, a few more seconds. Then she would go storming in.

But something resembling hesitation— where the hell did that come from? — simmers in her gut. Still, she forces her legs to move forward, on up the front steps of the church, and stand on tip toe so she could look through the window.

The image inside was distorted by the stained glass. Jessica's furiously darting eyes spotted Emily and Matt at the altar, her shaded in red and him shaded in green from the glass. She pulled her head back, letting her forehead rest forlornly against the door. The old wood groaned at the pressure, and she turned around and stomped back down the steps.

The storm continued to whirl within her, throwing around its torrent of emotions. She thought with anger of their lost friendship, she thought with envy of the huge rock of an engagement ring wrapped safely around Em's finger, she thought with despair of Em spending the rest of her life with him.

Then, all at once, the storm ended. The emotions dropped into her stomach one by one, landing like heavy boulders of debris. She completely crashed, and collapsed on the grassy area to the side of the church. Patches of slushy snow were scattered about on the lawn, and the gross February sky with all its mushy clouds scowled down at her. She could feel mud sinking into her clothes, its hungry staining power eating up the fabric with brown— and she couldn't care less. Em was lost to her.

Jess was roused by soft lace brushing her cheek. She murmured and tried to swat it away to no avail. Her tear-crusted eyes cracked open. A breeze whispered past and the lace of Em's dress tickled her nose.

She wiped away an almost-sneeze and propped herself up on tired elbows. Em was the picture of contentment as she sat next to her on the swampy ground, weaving and unweaving her slender fingers.

"I was wondering if you would lie there forever looking like a piece of roadkill," Emily remarked, tilting her chin down and aiming her precisely narrow face at Jess. Her lips were ruby red and skin a supple, healthy cream color with a smearing of pink under her eyes from the wind.

"Nope," Jess sighed, casting her gaze to the sky again because god forbid she lock eyes with that. "Why're you here?"

"Just rewriting my life. You?"

"I almost crashed a wedding, but I decided not to."

Em's eyes were hot on her, burning into her skin like smoldering coals. Sweat sprang up in beads that dripped down the back of Jessica's neck. "That's funny," Em said after a long moment. "I almost crashed a wedding too. Except instead of almost crashing it, I actually did crash it."

This piqued Jessica's interest. She glanced back at the other woman and tried not to laugh as the feeling of joy set in and dissolved throughout her system.

"I think," Emily mused, "I think the man of my dreams is a girl." Her contemplative frown morphed into a wan grin. "But I don't know how to tell her I love her."

"And let me guess— you don't know how to tell her that you made a mistake?" Jess suggested.

"Possibly."

"And you don't know how to tell her that she was right and had a hunch all along?"

Emily threw her head back, letting out something that began as an exasperated sigh and ended as a chuckle. "Kiss my ass, Riley."

"I can think of another part of you to kiss, Davis," Jess countered.

"Please, show me."

She did. Gladly. And when they separated, though not quite separated because Jessica's lips were still ghosting over Emily's, and someone's fingers were crawling through the frosty grass blades to find an inviting hand— her voice was soft on the cold air.

"I love you, bitch."

Then she got up and took off across the lawn, feet barely grazing the grass. Emily ran just behind. Her dress billowed behind her in rippling white waves.