Bridesmaid Undercover: An incredibly steamy, hilarious, friends to lovers, love triangle romantic comedy

EVERLY

“Wow, there is no way I can do that,” Maple says as she looks at the cute yarn pom-pom centerpiece I made for the bridal shower.

“Trust me, it’s so easy.”

“I’m really not crafty at all,” Maple says as she pulls her legs up on the couch in our new storefront. We still need to decorate and there are touch-ups that need to be made, but I asked Maggie if it was okay to meet Maple here to work on centerpieces and she approved. Thank God, because doing this in my tiny apartment would not have been ideal.

“You don’t need to be crafty. The least crafty person can do this thanks to these.” I pull out two different sized pom-pom makers, ridged plastic disks that will make this a breeze for her. “Think you can wrap yarn?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” she says, looking hopeful.

“Then you can make pom-pom centerpieces. Look.” I pull out one of the pom-poms from the bouquet. “We make the pom-pom, and then we just glue the stick to one end. We do this in all different lengths and sizes and then put them all together. All I need you to do is help me with the pom-poms and gluing the sticks, then I can do the arranging.”

“That doesn’t seem that hard,” she says.

“I promise, it won’t be hard at all.” I then dump a bag of yarn between us, all different shades of pink and salmon. “Let’s get to work.”

I give her a quick tutorial on how to use the pom-pom maker and it takes her a second to get used to it, but once she figures it out, she smiles to herself. I can see the pride in her eyes. And this is what I love, right here, helping someone do something for someone else. Not sure I ever thought this would be part of my career, but I enjoy being able to step in and be the essential behind-the-scenes person.

“I really like that we’re making these instead of using real florals,” Maple says. “Because you said you can save them and use them for another event, right?”

“Yup,” I reply. “We have a large storage room in this building for this exact reason, so we can help supplement events with décor. It’s a very eco- and budget-friendly model that is not only important to me and Maggie, but to the cooperative as well. The Cane brothers are big on sustainability.”

“What’s the cooperative?” she asks as she continues to circle yarn over the maker.

“Oh, that’s the company that Hudson and Hardy started with the Cane brothers. Not sure how in the know you are, but Huxley, JP, and Breaker are the Canes, and they were direct competition with Reginald Hopper. Because things went sour between Hudson, Hardy, and their dad, they decided to join forces with the Canes. I won’t get into details because that’s not my place, but you can google the joint venture. It’s been all over the business forums.”

“Oh…interesting,” Maple says. I watch her twist her lips for a second and a little piece of me—okay, a big piece of me—is hoping that doesn’t intrigue her, but when she looks up at me I know that’s not the case. “He seemed different the other day.”

“Oh?” I ask. “How so?”

“Well, he just seemed, nervous, fidgety, unlike himself. I’ve never seen him so unbalanced. In college, he was always very confident and sure of himself. Hardy from the other day was a far cry from college Hardy.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s a reason for that. Probably nervous to see you again. And then he went and slipped right into your chest—I’m sure that set him into a tailspin after.”

Maple smiles. “I know that in the moment, I was just as startled as the rest of us, but it was kind of funny thinking about it later. Hardy from college would have dropped dead if he ever did anything that embarrassing.”

“Really?” I ask, feeling slightly jealous that she knows a different side of Hardy.

“Yeah. He was definitely the cool guy back then, but now, it’s as if he completely shed his confident exoskeleton and he’s just…goofy.”

“Maybe at times,” I say. “But he still has that cool guy persona.”

“Oh really?” she asks. “Do you guys know each other well?”

Oh shit.

“Uh, not really,” I say. “Not as well as you know him. I’ve only seen how he’s interacted with us since the joint venture, and he’s always been so chill and professional. His behavior the other day surprised me.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, to be honest, it was nice to see him act more down to earth.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, swallowing hard. “That’s, uh…good. Maybe that means something.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“Oh, you know, if you ever wanted to get back together, you’ll feel confident that people change.”

She shakes her head. “We won’t be getting back together.”

Ahh, what a shame.

“Why not?” I ask.

Her eyes meet mine. “I just think we’re different people than we were back then, and I just don’t think we’re as compatible as we used to be.”

Probably for the best, good luck with your future dating endeavors.

“People change sometimes for the better,” I say for some stupid reason, as if I’m convincing her to date him.

“True.” She shakes her head. “Honestly, I just want to get Polly married and focus on my work. The last thing I want to do right now is date someone.”

Yes, focus on your work, Maple, probably smart.

“I can understand that,” I say as I tie off one of the pom-poms and toss it into the center where we are starting a collection. “I was like that all last year, just focusing on work and getting settled. But now that I feel like I’m actually doing well, leading the charge on a new branch of business, the rest of my life feels disconnected.”

“How so?” Maple asks, her kind eyes meeting mine as she pauses in her yarn wrapping. And I want to hate those kind eyes, I really do, but man, she makes it hard.

“I feel like I’m missing someone to share it with. I feel sad after I get home from work. There’s no one to talk to, no one to hang out with, no one to share a meal with. It just feels lonely, and I don’t want to feel lonely. And when I do feel lonely, I lean more into work, but I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to wake up one day and think I missed so much because I was working all the time.”

“But do you feel fulfilled with work?” she asks.

“I do,” I answer, wondering how this became a therapy session for me, but those kind eyes are making me talk. “But I don’t want it to define me, and that’s okay if that’s something you might want. I just…I’m surrounded by love daily. I see what a relationship can bring to someone’s life, and I know that I shouldn’t, but at times I feel jealous. I want that. I love watching couples walking down the street, holding hands. That’s such a simple level of intimacy, a level that I haven’t been able to truly experience myself. The men I dated in college were not really the coupling type, more in it for a good time. But that doesn’t mean I don’t long for that kind of intimacy. Kissing someone good night. Sharing a morning cup of coffee or a late-night glass of wine. Simple things. Couple things. I want that, you know?”

She slowly nods. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I was seeing this guy when I was in Peru. He was one of my co-researchers, and everything felt better when he was around.”

Oh God, she was dating someone?

And why does that information make me feel like a CIA operative, like the enemy just revealed a big mystery that I’ve been waiting for.

“How did it end?” I ask. “I mean…if it did end.”

“It ended. He was transferred to the San Diego Zoo.” She shrugs. “We knew it was temporary. It’s hard to get placed in the same zoo, especially when you study the same animal.”

“Do you still talk to him?” I ask.

“Yes, we stay in touch, but that’s all it is.” She lets out a big huff. “But I understand the feeling of not wanting to be alone. Who knows,” she continues, “maybe I’ll think about talking to Hardy again.”

Noooooooooo.

Go back to the Peru guy, he seemed…earthy.

“Oh yeah, cool,” I say as I pull out a new color of pink yarn from my bag of yarn.

Stupid freaking Peru guy, why couldn’t you study another animal? Huh?

“Do you like bowling?” she asks out of the blue.

I blink at her, confused by the subject change. “Uh, sure. I mean, I played it a couple of times, but I’m not very good at it.”

“Well, I joined a bowling league to try to meet some more people. My friend Timothy at the zoo got me to join, and I know this might be a bold ask since we just barely met, but we’re looking for another woman to round out the team. Think you might be interested?”

Timothy?

Or did she mean Tomothy?

Excuse me for being hugely concerned.

“Did you say Timothy or Tomothy?” I ask, needing some clarification.

She chuckles. “Timothy.”

“Are you sure?” I press.

“Positive,” she says with a strange expression, probably wondering why I’m so persistent.

“Okay, just making sure. I met a Tomothy that I would prefer never to see again.” I secure my pom-pom and remove it from the maker before setting the ball to the side, pleased with how it came out. “Um, I’m not very good at bowling.”

“Neither am I, but there are a lot of guys who play, and who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone.”

I consider it for a moment.

I do need to get out into real life more and not be so stuck in my event world.

If Maple decides she wants to get to know Hardy again, I know I’ll have no hope with him. That’s inevitable. So, I need to move on.

Bowling with some strangers might be just what I need. And who knows, maybe I’ll meet someone new and exciting. Someone who doesn’t mind the complexities of the female genitalia.

One can only hope.

“You know, Maple, I think I will join you.”

“Really?” she asks, looking very excited.

“Yeah, really. Could be fun and I’m into meeting new people.”

“That’s amazing. I’ll tell Timothy. He’ll be so excited.”

“By chance,” I say as I start making a new pom-pom, “is Timothy single?”

“He is,” she smiles. “He’s very much single.”

“Is he…your type?”

She chuckles. “No, he’s just a friend.”

“Well then, I guess I should start thinking about my debut bowling outfit.”

To: Hardy Hopper

From: Everly Plum

Subject: Pom-Poms

Henrietta,

I have some news. I spent some time with Maple today. We were making pom-pom décor for the bridal shower and we got to talking. She mentioned you and how…different you were the other day. Seemed like there’s a possibility there for the two of you. I think you can move on to stage two.

You’re welcome,

The Prof

To: Everly Plum

From: Hardy Hopper

Subject: RE: Pom-Poms

Wait…really?

After the other day, after my fumbling and bumbling?

After falling through a wall?

After falling into her breasts as a greeting…

You think she’s interested?

How the fuck does that happen?

You know what? Don’t answer that, I’m just going to accept what you said and ask, how do you propose we move to stage two? Me being able to actually talk to her outside of the events. I feel like there needs to be a smooth transition.

About these pom-poms, are you still making them? Maybe it’s something I can help with.

A grateful Henrietta

To: Hardy Hopper

From: Everly Plum

Subject: RE: Pom-Poms

It had something to do with you being less cool…her words, not mine. Although, I might have agreed with her.

I don’t know, maybe she liked the idea of you being a goof, but either way, she seemed open. Well, more open than before.

We do still have to make some pom-poms as well as a few other décor items, so you can come help as well if you want. I’m finalizing details with Maple, but it will probably be after work today. Hopefully you can make that happen. I’ll let you know what time once I hear from her.

Until then, think of more ways to embarrass yourself. She seemed to like that.

Maybe you can bend over and your pants split, right down the crack. Or I can loosen the screws on one of the chairs in the storefront so when you take a seat, you land flat on your ass. Maybe you accidentally glue a pom-pom to your hand…or your head…or your elbow.

Perhaps you could think you’re cutting the string for the pom-poms but accidentally cut your shirt instead.

Let me know. I’d be more than happy to help you embarrass yourself.

The Prof

To: Everly Plum

From: Hardy Hopper

Subject: Splitting my pants

I don’t know why I’m gravitating toward ripped pants, but there’s something about it that screams a must-do. Maybe in a Harry Styles kind of way. Did you see that clip that went viral of him splitting his pants during his tour? Right up the front. I think a frontal rip is better than a back rip. Back rip makes me think there’s a bit too much cake in the trunks, whereas a frontal rip is all about what’s happening in the crotchal—yes, I made up that word—region.

What do you think? Should I pre-tear my pants in an inconspicuous way and then lunge to grab something, only to split the crotch wide open?

Feels like a winning situation all around.

Henrietta

To: Hardy Hopper

From: Everly Plum

Subject: RE: Splitting my pants

You know, I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who wants to have a crotch split in public, but here we are, discussing your best options for letting the breeze in through the front door.

I have to ask, what’s the state of your underwear?

Before we start ripping pants open, I think we need to account for what your underwear looks like right now. Especially if a full frontal is involved, we have to be certain that the underwear is up to standards.

The Prof

To:Everly Plum

From: Hardy Hopper

Subject: Best Undies IN TOWN!

Plum…I’m surprised you even have to ask the state of my underwear.

I’m a clean man.

I wash in all crevices, a daily deep clean.

Clothes are always laundered with care, folded, and gently used.

There are no holes, no frail hems, no…stains.

My underwear is the most impeccable underwear you will ever come across. So please…please don’t ever question if my underwear is ready to flap in the breeze, because it is. It’s more than ready. It’s prepared to be strung up on a flagpole and waved around like a flag because of how perfect it is.

Some might say my underwear can double as a napkin.

A placemat.

A pillowcase.

A washcloth.

People have said they wish I would give away my underwear because of how amazing it is. So, yes, my underwear is more than ready. No need to converse about the fabric that clings to my crotch every day.

No underwear will ever be better than this underwear.

Henrietta

To: Hardy Hopper

From: Everly Plum

Subject: Dear…God…

You know, Henrietta, a simple “yes, my underwear is good” would have been just fine.

Now I have the image of your underwear being used as a placemat ingrained in my head.

Not happy.

The Prof

To: Everly Plum

From: JP Cane

Subject: Dear Friend

Dear Friend,

Did you know that the people of ancient Rome used to eat flamingo tongue as a delicacy? Think about that for a moment…tongue from innocent flamingos. It’s so horrific.

Thankfully, we’re not living in ancient Rome and the threat of flamingo tongue ending up on plates is no longer a concern, but do you know what is a concern? The fragile habitats these beautiful birds live in.

Please join me in helping save their habitats from destruction.

Donate Here.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

JP Cane

Everly:I’m sitting in my car, about to walk into a bowling alley for a bowling league that I agreed to take part in…as an actual bowling league member. I think this is the start of me losing my mind.

Ember: Losing your mind? I think this is a great idea! Look at you getting out there. Are you going with anyone?

Everly: Maple…yes, that Maple, the one that Hardy wants to date.

Ember: Ehhh, that’s a little weird.

Everly: I’m trying not to think about it. She said there’s a guy here, Timothy— that was not a typo: Timothy, not Tomothy— who might be a good match for me. So, I’m giving this dating thing the old college try.

Ember: Interesting. I guess anything is better than a second date with Tomothy.

Everly: Literally anything.

Ember: Are you nervous?

Everly:Of course, I’m nervous. I’ve never bowled for competition in my life, the last man I met spoke about licking his cat, and my hands are clammy no matter how many times I rub them on my pants.

Ember: Ahh, young love.

Everly:Young love? Love is not even in the picture at this point. I’m just trying to make sure I don’t make a fool of myself.

Ember: Ooo, good luck with that. Remember the time we took you to Trevor’s work party and you were talking to a guy and tried to drink your soda, but didn’t have your lips lined up with the hole, resulting in you pouring orange soda all over your face?

Everly: How is this helping?

Ember:It’s not but the memory made me laugh.

Everly:Glad I could entertain, but I’m going to have to go because I see Maple. Wish me luck.

Ember:Good luck! Text me later. I want to know all about Timothy.

I’m sure she does.

I stick my phone and keys in my purse and climb out of my car. “Hey, Maple,” I call out as she’s about to grab the door to the bowling alley. She glances over her shoulder and when she spots me, a relieved smile crosses her expression.

“You came,” she says as I close the space between us, and then to my surprise she gives me a hug.

“Did you think I wasn’t going to show up?” I ask.

“I was slightly worried that you might not, but I’m glad you did because I didn’t want to do this alone.”

“Have no fear—I’m here and I’m ready to grab a drink, so when I suck at bowling, I can blame the booze.”

She chuckles. “Very smart idea.”

“Stick with me, Maple, I have all the smart ideas.”

Together we walk into the incredibly crowded and boisterous bowling alley. This is not what I was anticipating. I thought maybe a few people milling about, fellow comrades talking about their latest night out, maybe a roll of a ball here and there. But this…wow. We’re talking full lanes, people in matching shirts and wrist guards analyzing bowling balls while polishing them with rags. Pints of beers crowd around plates of nachos and pizza, and the interesting scent of food mixed with stale feet floats through the air, despite the newer, renovated bowling alley.

It’s loud.

It’s overpopulated.

And there isn’t a chance in hell I’d stay if Maple wasn’t here with me.

“Uh, wow, this is intimidating,” I say while taking in the scene.

Maple steps closer. “Yeah, incredibly intimidating—what were we thinking?”

“We must have had a wild hair in us because my introvert is trying to crawl out of my skin at the moment,” I say.

“Yeah, this is more intense than I expected,” Maple replies.

“Maple,” a man says, walking up to her.

Tall with blond hair, he has the body of a swimmer, broad shoulders and a narrow waist, and perched on his nose is a pair of dark-rimmed glasses. Well, he’s a nice man to look at.

“Timothy,” Maple says with a smile. “Thank God. I don’t think I would’ve been able to find you in this crowd.”

“It’s why I headed toward the front. We’re over on lane twelve. I grabbed your shoes already—thanks for sending me the sizes in advance. And I’m about to run to the bar, so what can I get you to drink?”

“Well, first of all, this is Everly,” Maple says.Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Timothy says. “Where are my manners?” He holds his hand out to me, and I take it. “Everly, it’s really nice to meet you. Thank you for joining the team. We needed at least two girls, so you two being here allows us to play.”

“Not a problem. It’s always fun to do new things,” I say awkwardly because Timothy is an attractive man. A very attractive man. And apparently, I’ve lost all ability to function as a normal human.

He smiles kindly. “Well, can I get you anything to drink? We have two pizzas already and some buffalo wings. But I’m loading up on beer.”

“Could I get a seltzer?” Maple asks.

“Same,” I say.

“Alcoholic?” he asks, brows raised.

“Yes,” Maple and I say at the same time, making Timothy laugh.

“On it, ladies. Head down to lane twelve, the guys are waiting for you.”

“Thanks,” Maple says and then Timothy takes off.

I turn to her and whisper, “Okay, he’s hot.”

She laughs. “Timothy is one of the most highly sought-after zookeepers at the zoo, at least that’s what has been told to me. He doesn’t want to date anyone in the same profession though. Hence why we work so well together as new friends.”

“Good to know. What animal does he take care of?”

“The rhinos.”

“That’s so cool,” I say.

“If you ask him about his line of work, he won’t stop talking about them, so prepare yourself.”

“Noted,” I say as we head toward lane twelve.

We weave through people, past rows and rows of untouched bowling bars, and to the very end of the bowling alley where lane twelve is situated. And just like Timothy said, there are two pizzas on the high-top table, along with beers and buffalo wings.

Two guys are sitting on the bench and chatting as we walk up.

“Hey,” Maple says, raising her hand in greeting. “I’m Maple and this is Everly.”

“Hey, I’m Mario,” one of the guys says as he stands. Dark hair, dark features, with some dark chest hair peeking through the V-neck of his shirt.

“And I’m Sven,” the lighter-haired man says. “Great to meet you.”

We smile and then of course stand there awkwardly. Finally, I ask, “How do you know Timothy?”

“Went to school with him,” Mario says. “And before you ask, no, I’m not a zookeeper. I work in finance. I brought my other friend as well—he’s in the bathroom.”

“And Timothy used to date my sister,” Sven says. “She’s married to someone else now, and I told her I wasn’t giving up my friendship, so…here I am.”

That makes me chuckle. “At least you’re honest about it.”

“I was devastated when they broke up,” Sven says. “Worst mistake of her life and now she’s married to a guy who is just…okay. He sure as hell can’t tell me tales about rhinos, that’s for damn sure.”

“Maple? Everly?” A familiar voice pulls our attention to the right where Hardy comes into view.

Uh…

What is he doing here?

“Hardy?” Maple says.

He steps into our area and sticks his hands in his pockets. “Are you two playing with us tonight?”

“Us?” I ask, blinking a few times.

“Yeah,” Hardy says.

Maple and I exchange glances and then look back at the men.

“Uh, do you know each other?” Mario asks the obvious.

“We do,” Hardy says. “I used to date Maple back in college, and Everly works under the cooperative. She’s also helping with Polly and Ken’s wedding.”

“Oh wow, small world,” Mario says.

Incredibly small.

So small that it almost feels like someone is messing with us.

Because what are the actual odds?

“This isn’t going to be a problem, is it?” Sven asks, looking nervous. “Timothy was really looking forward to being able to put a team together. He’ll be so disappointed if you guys walk out.”

I look over at Maple again who is shyly glancing at Hardy.

Uh, will this be a problem?

Yes.

Yes, this will be a problem.

This will be a big problem for me.

The last thing I want to do is watch Hardy and Maple rekindle their relationship right in front of me. It’s one thing to help make that connection, but it’s another thing to witness it unfold.

I’m hoping Maple feels just uncomfortable enough to back out.

Fingers crossed.

“Well,” she says as she twists her hands in front of her. Go ahead, tell them this would be awkward, so we’re just going to go grab a drink at the bar and hang out there. “I don’t want to disappoint Timothy.” Uh, no, Maple. That’s not the correct answer. “So I guess we can stay. Unless you want to leave, Everly?”

All eyes fall on me.

Sven’s pleading eyes to not disappoint Timothy.

Mario’s interested eyes that keep scanning me up and down—not a fan of that.

Maple’s unsure eyes, begging me to stay.

And of course Hardy’s eyes, imploring me to grant him this opportunity to be closer to Maple.

Damn it.

Damn all of them.

Damn every single one of them and the bowling balls they picked out.

I hope they all throw gutter balls the entire night.

“Oh, no,” I answer, as chill as can be. “I’m ready to bowl.”

The group releases a collective sigh, pizza boxes are opened, and smiles are met all around.

Great. Can’t wait to see where this evening takes me.