One Year Stand

It was the most hideous dress I had ever seen. It was the shade of cucumber, it was shaped like a cucumber, it had oversized, cucumber-colored bulbs on it that looked distinctly liked the bumps of a cucumber. I tried it on. Surprise, surprise, I looked like a freaking cucumber.

The dress was fine for a 6 year old in some kind of play about the sufferings of an ugly vegetable, but not good for a 26 year old maid of honor for her sister's wedding. Not good for a 28 year old who spent the last four years of her life having commitment-phobic boyfriends, a few broken hearts, and to top it all off, spent two years pining after a gorgeous but gay man.

Right now, I don't want commitment. I want to get drunk, be carried off by a hunk of a man, and have balls-to-the-walls sex. My mission, however, is impeded by this...this...gross, green puke colored cucumber...thing.

I heard muffled snorts from my right.

"This is for stealing her boyfriend in 2nd grade isn't it, Eric?" I moaned.

My brother smiled. He ruffled my hair, "Of course not Jess, she already got you back for that with the bed wetting incident in Australia. I'll go call Sherry in. She'll explain. If she's feeling merciful, maybe we can at least try to get those lumps off of it."

Eric is 8 years older than me and believes that the age gap allows him to treat me like a kid- a 28 year old kid who knows how to change diapers better than he does. My brother was married once, for about 2 weeks. He married long enough to legally be the father of the product of a drunken one night stand. The mother promptly jumped on the back of a large Harley Sportster, and rode off into a life of heroin and prostitution, or so I hoped. Bitch.

However, the baby, John, is the most amazing thing in my life. So amazing that I can look past the days of crapped up diapers and green pea mush vomit, and see his adorable face in the middle of a delighted gurgle.

Speaking of baby vomit, I gave eyed the cucumber dress once more, and slumped in an armchair, wincing as the bulbs stabbed into my butt cheeks. Maybe I'd "accidentally" drop a candle on myself during the dress rehearsal.

Sherry peeks in and grins, "How's the cucumber, Jess? I actually didn't have to order it made. Apparently, some other brides tend to be afraid of being out-prettied at their own weddings. This means that there are a few more such dresses in the wedding boutique, stored in case there's any kind of accident with this one."

"Why Sherry Why..." I moan. "This is overkill...these are for ugly brides with hot friends."

"Yes, well, it's actually because Mom doesn't want you hooking up with Jeff's third cousin's sister-in-law's best friend's brother or something, and neither do I. The dress is perfect for hiding all your curves and killing all your momentary self-confidence making you conveniently unlovable by passersby."

"What? Psh...why would I ever want to hook up with someone random...what gave you that idea?" I sputter.

She dangles a little black book in front of my face.

"That's my diary! You sneak!" I gasp. I grab for it, but unfortunately, Sherry got blessed with the tall genes. I got the puny genes. "How did you find it? I hid it so well," I pout.

She sighed, "A good hiding place is no use when you hide it in front of everyone." She threw the book back to me. "I have a date with a certain hunky man that I think is engaged to me. I expect you to be wearing the dress on Friday." She threw on her coat and scarf. As she left, she added, "If its any consolation, I had to have them make it uglier, just because you're too cute."

After she left, I stared at myself in the mirror. Ugh. I don't even like cucumber.

I think the world has doomed me to be unwillingly single forever, and is now rubbing it in my face. I slurp a large mouthful of bubble tea and sigh. Sugar is my fix. You know how depressed people go for alcohol? Well I find sugar is a much more dangerous and addictive substance. As a doctor, I know about all the evil effects of simple sugars and empty carbs. But I'm only human. Don't judge me. I need my fix.

And tonight, I need this fix badly. This is an emergency. Tomorrow is my sister's wedding, and my cucumber dress has not been accidentally torn to shreds yet. Time for action. It was now midnight.

I finish my heavenly drink, and put on my best ass-kicking clothes- black Pucci pants and a tight black pseudo leather "shirt" that one of my more free-spirited friends got me from some sex boutique.

I've never kicked anyone's ass before, but I imagine the ass-kickers out there would wear something like it. I added on a black leather belt to keep my weapons on. My weapon of choice I grabbed from the kitchen drawer on the way out.

My sister had cleverly chosen to keep the cucumber dress out of my reach until the day of. She left it in the wedding boutique, along with all the other bridesmaid dresses. I drove over, blasting Electric Avenue to psych myself up for my lawless actions.

I was all jittery when I got to the store. My first time on the dark side of the law. I took a deep breath and got out of the car. I walked up and gripped the boutique doors.

"Okay Jess, this is not that bad. Your sister has already paid for the dress. And I bet the shop owner would understand if she knew anyway."

Rationalization complete, I pulled on the doors...and realized I had a problem. The real reason why bridesmaids are stuck wearing their horrendous clothes is not because they valued their friendship with the bride, but because the damn doors to the boutique are locked at night.

I sat down and pondered the dilemma. For about half a second I considered doing the elbow into the glass window thing that you see on TV all the time, because I definitely would rather lose an arm than wear the cucumber dress. But then looking at my puny elbow, I realized my joint would shatter before the glass did.

And so I stared at the doors, hoping my glare would melt the metal off.

I was so caught up attempting pyrokinesis that I didn't notice footsteps coming my way. Suddenly an annoyingly bright LED light hit me, blinded me, freaked me out, and caused me to punch the flashlight's owner. My hand harmlessly glanced off some kind of rock, and a hand enveloped my wrist.

"You know you can be put in jail for assaulting a police officer." The deep voice resonated through my body. Yum. Plus warm hand. Double yum.

I squinted, and smacked the light away from my face. "It's also rude to shine lights in people's faces. You're killing my eyes."

Yummy-voice-man turned off the light, but I could only see stars. "So tell me, what are you doing at one in the morning, staring at a wedding store and wearing some Angelina Jolie costume ripoff?"

"This is an ass kicking outfit. And for your information, my sister's getting married. She gave me freaking ugly dress. I was planning to go cut it up, but the damn boutique owners locked the door. Why would a wedding boutique lock their doors? Who would go steal a wedding dress?"

An amused deep chuckle came from somewhere in the dark. He was walking around me, making me feel on my guard, "To protect themselves from cute, angry bridesmaids who would like to cut up their dresses. You do realize it is breaking and entering?"

I silently cursed myself. Yes, tell a police officer you're about to commit a crime. Smart Jess. I spun around, still seeing stars, and started backing towards what I thought was the boutique, wanting to grab something in the dark before I tripped. I hit something hard, and clutched at it. Strangely, it was warm.

"Well Jessica, male police officers aren't usually sexually assaulted, but I think you can get jailed for that too." That amused voice rumbled against my hand.

Omagahh. While drooling slightly, I snatched my hand away. Then I realized what he said and my cheeks flamed. He should be the one indicted for sexual harassment. Who knew a body could be so hard. I bet he uses steroids and is now bald with tiny gonads.

I sputtered, and seeing no other escape, fled to my car, hearing a sexy laugh ringing in my burning ears.

The next morning, I woke to sunlight in my face. I willed it to shut off. It did.

Alarmed that I had maybe accidentally shut off the sun, I sat up and desperately tried to shake sleep from my eyes. A large cucumber green flower greeted me.

I groaned, "Kill me now..." The nearest implement for suicide was my pillow, and I put it to good use.

"There's going to be bubble tea at the wedding." Sherry waltzed around the room with the cucumber dress- probably the first and last time that dress ever got to dance.

I removed the pillow. Bubble tea was worth living for.

I sighed. This was her day, I guess I might as well be slightly cooperative. Hooking up at a wedding where all your relatives are is probably a bad idea anyway. Grandmothers will start cackling, mothers start plotting, etc.

"Let's make a deal. I get to put that dress on at the last possible moment before the wedding, and in return, I will help you through your wedding preparations."

"You love weddings. You would've helped me if your cat died the day before. But whatever, I just don't want you seducing anyone and getting your heart broken again. You know you're not one night stand material. You know you'll keep hoping for more."

"I watched Sex and the City. I know what to do for a one night stand!"

"So you think that Carrie Bradshaw knows you better than me or our mom? I'm sorry to break it to you, but what you see on TV is one way. No, James Franco cannot see you in your sexiest underwear even if you stick your booty right up to the screen."

"I can do it! The one night stand I mean."

She smiled at me condescendingly, "Just like you thought you could keep Jimmy. But nope, Karen stole him away from you a week after you took him from me."

"I knew it! You're still mad about it. Come on, it was in 2nd grade!"

She smirked. I smiled. We linked arms and marched off to be pampered at the spa. No matter how ugly the dress, I loved my sis. And weddings. And I'm never too petulant for a few hours at the spa.

"He was hot."

"Is that anything a soon-to-be bride should be saying?"

"Last minute bacheloretting."

"My masseur had a nicer butt."

"My masseur had washboard abs, and nicer pecs."

"My masseur can beat up your masseur any day."

The receptionist smiled, "I think Sherry's right this time. She got Tom, our hunkiest man. He used to be a bodybuilder."

She was just saying that because Sherry was going to get married today.

As we were on the car to the wedding boutique, I commented, "You know you're surprisingly calm."

"Well why should I be nervous?" Sherry gazed at me.

"I would tell you, but if you're not nervous, then I won't tell you."

"That kinda makes me nervous."

"Don't be nervous. I mean you're not like other brides."

"What? Wait. Why am I not like other brides? Is it abnormal that I wasn't nervous? What's wrong with me?" She sat straight up.

"Ooook, bad use of past tense, you're not having second thoughts are you? I mean, you're not nervous. Nothing's wrong with you. It's just that you are Sherry, Ms. Amazing. Nothing can make you nervous."

"Is that a bad thing? Should I be having second thoughts?"

"NO! Now be a good girl and think happy thoughts."

"I can't think happy thoughts. Should I be nervous and second thoughts? Is this some tradition? Will I screw up the rest of my life with Jeff if I'm not nervous? Maybe I need to have second thoughts so I won't screw it up. But then I might screw it up because of that."

"Well you definitely are nervous now, and somewhat on the right track for what to be nervous about."

"If I was nervous about the wrong thing does that screw it up? Wait, what should I be nervous about?"

Dear god, my bubble tea better be fully sugarized.

Two hours and three and a half nervous break downs later, I was nearly ready to just put the ugly dress on and wait in the lobby. Nearly, but not quite. Then I threatened to leave, and Sherry started another nervous breakdown.

Another half hour later, she was more or less kicked out of the beauty parlor and into the dressing room to wait.

Then she turned on me, a smile starting on her face. Shit.

"You know what would calm my nerves? Seeing you as a cucumber."

Author's Note: Revising entire story starts today. And I will be considering a sequel. Any suggestions on with who? Logan or Ryan? Or maybe more Jess?