Page 52

52

CONNOR

A llie squares off like we’re about to duel.

I crack my knuckles. “I hope you’re ready to lose.”

She flips her hair. “I was born ready. To win.”

“Wait. Are those glow-in-the-dark heels?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

Gram yells, “Hit it, DJ!” and “Viva Las Vegas” starts blaring over the speakers. The competition is officially on.

I bust out every terrible dance move I know. The worm. The sprinkler. The menace shuffle, which currently has a copyright pending. I slide across the floor, narrowly avoiding a tourist’s nachos.

Allie starts busting out various dance moves. At one point, she twerks in rhythm with Showgirl Wendy.

Glitter rains over us, but we don’t stop.

Marilyn screams. Someone throws dollar bills.

Then Allie switches her moves and shimmies like her life depends on it.

Gram shrieks, “SHE SHIMMIED! IT’S OVER!”

I collapse dramatically on the chapel floor, defeated.

Elvis lifts her hand in the air like a boxing champ. “Your winner, and official honeymoon decider… the bride!”

Gram sobs into her tissue. “That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.”

Allie spins to me with a wicked grin. “Hope you packed sunscreen, menace.”

I look up at Allie from the floor. “You better not make me go to a beach.”

She leans down, kisses me, and whispers, “You’re gonna sweat, hot pants.”

And just like that, I realize I’ll eat a thousand pancakes, dance like a fool, and let her win every time.

Because this chaotic, glitter-covered woman with the huge smile on her face is mine.

Forever.