***FYI This is the second of three chapters that will be shared here on BC***

CHAPTER TWO

Gigi looked at me for a moment, confused more than anything else.

“Shit, did I forget to put the letter in there?”

I didn’t even know how to respond. What the hell kind of surprise was this?

“You… You want me to be…” I stumbled over my words.

“A bridesmaid!” Gigi leaped in to finish my thought. “For my wedding!”

I don’t know how, but I was able to snap out of my stunned disbelief and address her properly.

“Gigi, I… What are you talking about?” I lifted the letter from the box, revealing a whole assortment of goodies beneath it. A bottle of rosé, a cocktail shaker, a candle, assorted chocolates — every bit of it bursting with pink, glittery goodness.

“Colin, I just told you. My wedding’s on the books! This is my way of asking if you’d stand up with me on the big day.”

My head and heart were torn. I was beyond honored that she considered me such a close friend. And to be with her as she tied the knot with Kyle was a deeply humbling thought.

“I mean… I’d love to, but… As a bridesmaid?”

Gigi looked at me, finally recognizing my hesitancy. “Oh, well not a maid, silly! A bridesman. The box just says bridesmaid.”

“Oh…” I said. My heart rate sharply dropped. My nerves returned to normal. “Good, because, you know…”

Gigi sensed the mislabeled box triggered the flighty response she certainly wasn’t going for.

“Check this out,” she began, pulling up a photo collage on her phone and walking me through it. “Bridesmen are pretty common nowadays. Suits and ties match the colors of the bridesmaid dresses, you wear a boutonniere that pairs the girls’ flowers… It’s great!”

She swiped through a few pictures of multi-gender wedding parties and sure enough, they looked quite normal.

As I thought about it more, I remembered stories of acquaintances doing this exact thing. It’s not the 1900s after all. Girls can be close friends with guys. Why shouldn’t they stand up in each other’s weddings?

With the gender issue set aside, a new batch of overwhelming thoughts rushed in. From everything she’d said about her social life and from what I could tell, Gigi was a super popular girl. Out of all of Gigi’s friends, why me?

“I’m… so flattered, Gigi. Like, seriously. But…”

She smiled warmly. “So you’ll do it?”

Again, I was caught in a trance staring down at the glitzy bridesmaid — er, bridesman – box and five-word proposition letter. Why was it so hard just to say yes?

The longer I paused, the more Gigi’s smile started to fade. Her joy turned to concern, which rapidly turned into embarrassment — all for asking her work husband to join her wedding party. Fuck, I needed to say something.

“Gigi, I’m honored you’d want me. But… I feel like you have all these incredible, like, female friends who’d give you everything. Why muck it all up with a guy?”

She stared at me plainly. “Because you’re a really important part of my life too. I love my girls, but I want you because you’re not like them. You’d be such a good addition.”

I hung my head, fiddling with the bright pink cocktail shaker printed with the phrase ‘For the Girls!’. How ironic.

“Look, I understand if this feels out of nowhere, but I’m serious, Colin. I want you to be a bridesman,” she leaned in closer, then gestured widely to the office. “This job’s pretty soul-sucking. You know that as much as me. But hell if you haven’t made this shitty job easier to swallow…”

I couldn’t help but blush, pushing one of my long blonde locks out of my eyes. “I mean, you too.”

Gigi leaned forward to grab my hands. “How about this? My other three bridesmaids are coming to my house Saturday night for a cocktail night. Super chill. How about you come by and see if you fit in with the group. I mean, they’re awesome and you’re awesome, so you totally will — but see how that goes and make your decision then. Sound good?”

It was clear Gigi wanted to make sure I was comfortable. For as quirky and occasionally ditzy as she could be, her sincerity and thoughtfulness meant a lot.

The thought of being a bridesman — particularly my work wife’s bridesman — gave me a good bout of imposter syndrome. But taking it one step at a time couldn’t hurt.

“Drinks would be great,” I answered happily, returning the shaker and letter to the box and packing it away. “It’s a date.”

Gigi reached forward and booped my nose playfully. “That’s the work husband I know.”

Just as she did that, another paralegal stomped into the kitchen, pissy and poised to vent about an assignment he just got. Quickly, I shoved the bridesmaid box under the table and out of sight as Gigi and I let him rant.

Maybe I wasn’t ready for the whole world to know I was considering this. It’ll be weird enough smuggling a glittery pink box out of the office tonight. But I had to remind myself that, despite its appearance, her ask was merely a gesture of friendship. Even if it does feel like a hell of a step.

All I have on the books is a casual cocktail night to meet Gigi’s friends. A simple night where, at the very least, I’d make a few new friends. Nothing wrong with that, right?

========

In LA, there’s no shortage of people who flash wealth like it’s their job. Fancy sports cars, designer clothes, and dinners with tabs that creep into the five figures are staples among that group. On the flip side, you find your humble millionaires. Basic cars, basic clothing — almost so under the radar that unless you put an x-ray to their bank account, you’d never know they were among the elite.

Gigi, I’d say, is somewhere in the middle.

I knew that Gigi not only worked in wildly expensive Calabasas, but she had a nice little apartment in town too with a wonderful five-minute commute to the office. In fact, she’s a born-and-bred Calabasian having attended a local, private high school, then to college at UCLA, only to come right back here to begin her career.

Tonight’s drinks, however, weren’t at her apartment or even at a nearby restaurant. The address she sent me was for a gated community in North Calabasas — the fanciest, bougiest area of the entire town.

‘It’s my parents’ place!’ she reminded me in a text. ‘Give the guard the code and my full name and he’ll let you in.’

I almost spit out my drink reading it. The guard? I knew she came from wealth, but a gated community in North Calabasas never crossed my mind. What kind of house were we talking?

For the entirety of my 45-minute drive from my Burbank apartment, I had swirling visions in my head of what her place could possibly look like. As if I wasn’t nervous enough meeting three of Gigi’s best friends while essentially auditioning to be a bridesman in her wedding, I now had to appear cool as a cucumber in the face of extreme family wealth.

I pulled up to her community’s gate as instructed, nervously reciting the code and Gigi’s name to the gruff, burly guard.

“Hmm,” he nodded, glancing just a tad judgmentally at my crappy, beige Mazda before ultimately handing me a piece of paper for my dashboard and saying, “Come on through.”

I followed the winding road up the hills of her community, passing progressively larger homes. But no, not just homes — mansions. There’s simply no other way to describe what had to be one of the priciest zip codes in the country.

When I finally reached her address, I wasn’t even certain I was there. The lawn itself was twice the size of my childhood home in suburban Chicago. There was a freaking fountain out front and a circular brick driveway, leading up to what I could only describe as the most extravagant house I’d ever seen.

The mansion was massive, towering over the treeline and somehow even dwarfing the other gigantic homes on the block. I could feel sweat bead on my neck and brow as I approached the door and readied my hand to knock on the behemoth front door. But then…

*CREAK*

The giant wood door opened before I even laid a hand on it. From the open space popped out a familiar, smiling face.

“Colin! Eeeee!” Gigi squealed, grabbing my hand and yanking me inside with such force that I nearly dropped the bottle of wine I’d brought as a gift.

“Welcome, welcome!” she leaned in for a hug as my eyes darted around the beautifully decorated cavern of a foyer. “Thank you for making the trip.”

“Heh, sure! Wouldn’t miss it.”

Her eyes traced to the bottle of wine. “Oh is this for me? Thank you!”

I obviously felt foolish presenting a $10 bottle of wine to a family who, by the looks of it, probably owned a vineyard. But Gigi seemed happy nonetheless.

After a bit of chit-chat, Gigi insisted she give me a brief tour of her home. Well, not her home, as she was quick to correct.

I found the space to be as marvelous as it was intimidating. Not only did it have the typical kitchen, living room, and dining room setup, but Gigi’s house had an abundance of single-use spaces like a billiard room, a craft room, and a conservatory. And that’s just the first floor.

Gigi suggested we make a quick visit to her equally sprawling basement — finished, of course — home to an impressively large sitting area, golf simulator, and most notably a wine cellar where dozens if not hundreds of wines were stacked and stored on gorgeous wooden shelves.

“We’re good on red… Let’s grab a white too so everyone’s happy.”

“Everyone?” I repeated. “The others are here?”

“Sure are! We’re just hanging around. Didn’t want to start drinking without ya!”

While I knew nothing about wine, I had a strong suspicion the white bottle she grabbed was at least ten times the price of what I brought. Nevertheless, she treated both bottles of equal importance.

Wine in hand, I followed Gigi back up to the first floor, then up the gaudy, foyer staircase and down the long, second-floor corridor. I genuinely can’t express how much this place felt like a real-life castle both in size and style. I mean, what kind of home has hallways as wide as my living room? And wall art worth as much as my car?

We approached the one open door at the end of the hallway — the only room with a light on. Girlish giggles emanated from inside.

I gulped. “Is that—”

“My friends? Yeah.” Gigi answered, though rolled her eyes. “They better not be messing up my stuff.”

I raised an eyebrow, a bit unclear where exactly we were headed until Gigi again yanked my hand and led me into what was not a lounge, a bar, or anywhere I’d expect to be making cocktails or drinking wine. No, it was her super-pink, super girly childhood bedroom.

“He’s here! Everyone, meet Colin. Colin, that’s Marie, Lizzie, and sitting on the floor rudely not paying attention, Amelia.”

I blinked for a couple of moments, motionless and accepting the strange fact I was in my adult coworker’s childhood bedroom plastered with dated One Direction and Justin Bieber posters. Though mostly, I was distracted by what Amelia, seated on the floor and leaning up against Gigi’s soft pink canopy bed, was doing holding a strange, metal tool.

“Colin?” Gigi nudged my arm. “You good?”

I guess I got caught staring a little too long, because the second Amelia picked her head up, a tiny smirk grew on her face.

“Well there you go, Gigi. Someone’s interested in your old flat iron.”

I finally snapped out of my trance and smiled for the three girls, hoping I wasn’t too impolite. But the damage may have already been done.

“I’m sorry, uh… a flat iron?”

Amelia held the blue metallic tool higher up. “A flat iron. You know, to straighten hair?”

I felt my throat turn dry, self-conscious that, already, I wasn’t fitting in. But that was nowhere near my biggest problem.

Amelia smirked again, tossing the tool between her hands. “You know, Colin, with how long your hair is, maybe it’d be fun to use it on you. Ever straightened your hair before?”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

One more sample chapter coming this week, but the entire book is available right now on Amazon!

Thanks everyone :)

-Jennifer

AMAZON LINK: https://www.amazon.com/Will-You-Be-Bridesmaid-Feminization-e...

***FYI This is the third of three chapters that will be shared here on BC***

CHAPTER THREE

“Ooh! Yes yes yes!” Lizzie cheered before I could get a word in. Marie, meanwhile, sat there rolling her eyes and chuckling.

Of course, I turned red as a beet. What kind of question was that!? Have I — a boy — ever had my hair straightened? But what was I supposed to do, snap at her? Yell at a girl I just met for asking such a ridiculous question?

“Uh, no,” I answered plainly but firmly. “I’ve never straightened my hair.”

I looked over to Gigi who, thankfully, seemed to be on my side with this one.

“Guys, come on. Stop it.” She walked over to Amelia, still on the ground, and snatched the flat iron from her hand. “You’re welcome in my room, but not if you go digging through my old stuff, okay?”

Amelia groaned, annoyed by Gigi’s buzz-killing. She promptly placed it on her bright pink, glittery wooden vanity. The vanity, like everything else in her room, looked like it was bought at a teenage princess’s garage sale.

“Anyway…” Gigi continued. “Colin and I brought wine!”

The girls hurrah'd, eager to begin their Saturday night drinking. Gigi, to my surprise, reached deep beneath her bed, summoning not wine glasses or even normal glasses, but a dusty stack of red solo cups which she distributed to each of us.

“Plastic cups? For wine?” I clarified.

Gigi winked. “What, you’re not a goodie-two-shoes who has to drink from a glass, are you?”

“Oh, uh, no! I just—”

Gigi put her hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye. “Colin, I’m kidding. You gotta relax. We’re here to have fun.”

“Relax…” I echoed. Admittedly it’s hard to fully relax in a brand new environment — particularly when it’s your coworker’s childhood bedroom in her parents’ mansion. Not exactly familiar territory.

“Yeah, relax! We’re all friends here.” Gigi leaned in. “Or at least, I’m hoping? I mean, that’s what tonight’s all about. See if you vibe with the rest of the bridal party?”

I noticed the girls had begun pouring wine and chatting like nothing was wrong. To their credit, they seemed totally unfazed by the presence of a boy. Why then should I be so uncomfortable around the girls?

Having a moment to reset and breathe helped immensely. I managed to force a smile and address the group.

“Heh, sorry about that. So are we drinking wine or what?”

Marie, a tall, beautiful brunette who must be at least 6’1”, held both open bottles in her hands.

“Red or white?” she asked.

“White please.”

As strange as it felt to sip $100+ wine from a two-cent plastic cup, I knew the little bit of alcohol would do wonders for my nerves. It’s not called a social lubricant for nothing.

“Wanna sit next to me?” Gigi asked, patting an empty spot on her bed.

I smiled and did so, plopping my butt on the bed beside her as the other girls spread out around the room with their drinks.

An inevitable awkward silence fell over the room.

“So… How do you guys all know each other?” I asked simply.

“The club,” Lizzie said plainly.

“Yeah, the club,” Amelia added.

“Same,” said Marie.

I glanced over at Gigi, confused. “The club?”

Gigi looked just as confused. “The country club. Wait, I never told you about Westie?”

I shook my head and shrugged.

“All our families belong to the same place. Westmore Country Club. We call it Westie though.”

“Huh,” I muttered, half surprised I had no idea about Westmore — er, Westie — and half embarrassed I was already such an outsider.

“Our dads all work together. That’s how we met!”

Gigi dangled her feet off the bed like an antsy child. “They’re all in banking. We’ve known each other since we were kids! Thank God, too, because we’re all only-children. These girls were basically my sisters growing up.”

“I’ve spent, like, a million nights in this room,” Amelia laughed. “Some better than others.”

I chuckled along nervously. “Heh, well, I hope this is one of the good ones?”

Amelia smiled back. “So far, so good!”

Over the next hour, I got into a rhythm of asking questions and learning everything I could about the girls, their personal lives, and their friendship with Gigi. Facts mixed with stories that went off on ridiculous tangents, but by the end of it, I had a pretty good sense of each girl.

Like Gigi, all were all in their mid-20s. They went to the same elementary, middle, and high school, and while they went their separate ways for college, all three made the respectable choice to return to their hometown of Calabasas to live and work. Though for how nearly identical these girls were in background, their personalities had some variance.

Marie — who they call the ‘big sister’ of the group because she’s both the tallest and the oldest by a few months — teaches at an elementary school and has an apartment just a few blocks from Gigi. She’s also the quietest and subsequently the most serious. If there’s a moment when everyone needs to chill out or focus, Marie’s the one to get the group in order.

Lizzie I could immediately tell was the spastic one. She’s a hyper, eager, and perpetually upbeat blonde with a petite frame. While I’m sure she could be exhausting at times, I personally found her delightful. She’s always making people laugh and laughing herself. A great personality trait for someone who, as I just learned, works in sales.

Last but not least was Amelia — the most sarcastic of the bunch. She’s fun, upbeat, and armed with a wonderfully dry wit and brutal honesty. Not to mention quite the flirt. I got the sense that if these girls ever got in trouble in high school, it was Amelia’s doing. With her deep blue eyes, long, beautiful black hair, and killer figure, there’s no doubt she can get any guy she wants.

Each of these girls seemed like not only a great person but a great friend to Gigi. And their traits perfectly complemented Gigi’s quirky earnestness. I could see why they stuck together all these years.

Not that their company wasn’t appreciated, but one thing I still couldn’t fully get is why they’d hang out with me — nerdy, scrawny, awkward Colin. Frankly, high school me would’ve done a spit-take if he knew I’d be in a situation like this. Saturday night with four beautiful women? Too bad it had to wait till I turned 24.

Nevertheless, the vibes were good and the night felt like an old-school, high school or college dorm room hang. Friends sitting around, sipping wine, and telling stories.

All of a sudden, Lizzie held up her hand, nearly spilling her wine as she remembered something. “Colin, I feel like we still don’t know you though. I mean, Gigi tells us like nothing.”

Marie sipped, smirking. “She keeps things very close to the vest.”

Gigi turned a little defensive. “What? I tell you guys things! I just don’t feel the need to talk about work all the time. But Colin’s super interesting.”

I smiled awkwardly, feeling the spotlight start to shift toward me.

“Oh yeah?” Amelia asked. “Colin, what’s the most interesting thing about you?”

My mind raced trying to come up with something Gigi-centered we could all focus on, but Gigi jumped at the chance.

“Colin loves mythology. He runs this cool little blog about history and myths from all over the world. It’s called PopMyth, and he’s got, what, a few thousand readers?”

“No fucking way!” Amelia exclaimed. “That’s so nerdy but also, like, so sick.”

Whether or not they were feigning interest, I appreciated the shoutout. PopMyth was my pride and joy and more or less kept me sane day to day. I always felt weird pitching the concept to people who weren’t in the ‘myth space’, but the girls were willing to humor me and were extremely encouraging.

It also probably helped that, by now, each girl had consumed at least three glasses of wine. And by the look of it, the night wasn’t slowing down as Gigi got up to fetch another bottle of wine from the cellar.

“I take it we're no longer doing cocktails?” I asked as she was leaving.

Gigi tilted her head. “Yeeeeah… Maybe best not to mix alcohol. And I don’t know about you, but I’m having a lot of fun right here.”

I looked at her and glanced toward the girls. Against all odds, sitting here in this girly, pink room and drinking expensive wine from cheap cups, I was somehow enjoying the night too. But most importantly, I felt welcomed. I felt wanted.

“Me too,” I said to her honestly.

“Love that. Be right back!”

Gigi scurried downstairs to get us another bottle or two.

Lizzie reached over and grabbed the cup out of my hand. “Just one cup?? Colin, you gotta catch up!”

I laughed. “Hey, I gotta drive home! I assume you’re all staying the night?”

The girls all nodded simultaneously.

“Nothing wrong with a good, old-fashioned adult sleepover,” Marie said.

Merely making conversation, I followed up asking, “And what does that consist of?”

Amelia shrugged. “Honestly? The same as back in high school. Drink too much wine, gossip, tell stories, do each other’s hair…”

Then, Amelia stopped, turning her head back to the vanity where she had over an hour ago placed the bright-blue flat iron.
Shit. I knew where this was heading.

“Uhh… Nuh-uh.” I said, though my voice wavered just enough to get all three girls laughing.

Lizzie, sitting closest to the vanity, picked it up and swiftly tossed it to Amelia.

“Oh come on, Colin. With hair like that, you’ve seriously never wondered what it’d be like to have it straightened?”

My face rapidly turned red like before, but this time Gigi wasn’t here to quickly put a stop to it. And God knows I don’t have the confidence to overrule three beautiful women.

“I, uh… I mean…”

I hadn’t given in but Amelia treated me as if I had, reaching for my hand and ushering me toward the stool at the vanity.

“It’s not like I’m doing anything permanent,” Amelia said as she gently ran her hair through my hair. She viscerally reacted. “Oh! Colin. You’re literally a hairdresser’s DREAM!”

“Wait, you’re a hairdresser?” I asked, now realizing she was the only one who hadn’t gone into detail about her work.

“Five years now. It’s a wonderful gig.” She stepped back for a moment to look at me directly. “So what do you say? It’ll be fun!”

There I sat, looking at my reflection in the ovular vanity mirror, my long blonde hair getting toyed with and tossed by Amelia who stood behind me. Lizzie couldn’t stop giggling while Marie sat quietly by.

God, what was taking Gigi so long? Surely she would’ve put a stop to this.

Or would she? The one thing Gigi wanted out of tonight was for me to get to know her friends in a fun, intimate evening. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Here, the Romans get tipsy and play with each other’s hair. So who am I to ruin the tradition?

I took a deep, concessionary breath. “Sure. I guess you can straighten it.”

“Yesssss!” Amelia pumped her fist in celebration. “Ah! You’re gonna love it. I promise!”

Amelia started digging through the vanity drawers, scrounging together all the needed products for my hair ‘transformation’.

“Eh, good enough,” Amelia muttered, pulling out an opaque white spray bottle. “Haven’t used this in forever. Remember this?”

Amelia held up the bottle to the other two giggling girls.

“Very 2014…” Lizzie reminisced.

I sat awkwardly as Amelia spritzed my hair and ran a comb through my long blonde strands.

“God I love your hair… Super full. Very healthy.”

“Uh, thanks…” I squeaked, not sure how to respond to a compliment like that. “I mean, I just shampoo and condition like normal.”

“Hey, that’s more than most guys! None of the guys I’ve dated even knew what conditioner is.”

Amelia wasn’t overly chatty as she prepped my hair, quietly listening to Lizzie and Marie talk in the background. I’d never been to an actual hair salon in my life, but I imagine it’s not far off from this.

“Anyone know where Gigi is?” I polled the room.

Marie shrugged. “Probably just got distracted. Wouldn’t be the first time. I mean, have you seen that cellar? This whole place, really.”
The fact that even Gigi’s rich friends found her house wildly impressive made me feel a tad better. Any more time pretending this mansion was ‘normal’ and I might’ve lost my mind.

With my hair prepped and silky smooth, Amelia declared it time for the flat iron. Because I had so much hair, it wasn’t as simple as just running the clamp down my scalp to the ends. So, using a ‘sectioning clip’, Amelia bunched parts of my hair atop my head and tackled one section at a time.

The whole experience felt weirdly intimate. Amelia’s thin fingers carefully gathered and tossed my hair. The mix of her perfume with the sweet smell of the hair spray. The heat from the iron so close to my face as she hot-pressed my messy blonde waves.

For as strange as this whole thing was, I appreciated being in the hands of a professional. This was no amateur, slumber-party hairstyling. Amelia really knew what she was doing. Before I knew it, 10 minutes had gone by and my messy blonde tresses had been transformed into shiny, stick-straight locks.

“What do we think?” Amelia asked softly, stepping away and allowing me to finally touch her masterpiece.

I gasped at first contact. It genuinely felt like I was touching another person’s hair. No way this could be mine, right?

“It’s… really something…” I muttered, now able to effortlessly run my fingers through my hair.

The other girls must’ve finally tuned back in because Lizzie almost lost it.

“OH MY GOD HE’S SO PRETTY!!!”

My head whipped over to her with a grimace. “Pretty?”

Amelia rested her hand on my shoulder, easing the tension. “She means it in a nice way.”

Oddly, Marie was giggling more than anyone. “Colin, you can’t deny you’re pretty. Or, at least that your hair is.”

I couldn’t stop marveling at how soft and shiny my hair was. Not only did it look and feel different, but it moved differently. Whipping my head side to side, I was mesmerized watching the golden strands seamlessly flow across my back and shoulders.

“Colin…?” a voice said behind me.

Gigi had finally returned — a fresh bottle of white wine in her hands and her jaw on the floor.

She wasn’t laughing, or even smiling. In fact, her eye makeup looked a little smeared. And it looked fresh, almost like she’d been crying. Or more likely her makeup just looked that way and I hadn’t noticed until now.

Shit. She’d expressly told us not to touch her things and here I was — well, Amelia — borrowing not only her flat iron, but her combs, brushes, clips, and fancy hair sprays. A pit grew in my stomach and I desperately needed to apologize.

“Gigi, I… I’m sor—”

But her expression changed rapidly, and a smile broke on her face before ultimately shaking her head.

“You let them get to you, didn’t you…”

Suddenly the room erupted in laughter. All four girls dying laughing. Hell, even myself! I mean, the whole situation was pretty insane.
Gigi placed the bottle of wine on the vanity in front of me where she promptly uncorked the bottle and gathered the girls’ cups to refill them.
“I guess if Amelia’s gonna raid my vanity, I’m glad she made you look as good as you do.”

Other than a few follow-up questions and some more teasing me over how shockingly pretty and sweet-smelling my hair was, the evening hang quickly returned to normal. Here I was, sitting at my coworker’s childhood bedroom vanity with newly straightened hair, smelling like a girl, and I somehow wasn’t deathly embarrassed. In fact, I felt quite comfortable. It’s a testament to these girls.

We hung out for a while longer, trading stories while the girls reminisced about their younger years before I eventually needed to head home.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Gigi said, rising from the bed.

By now, everyone had changed into their pajamas and seemed ready to move on to the movie portion of their slumber party. I turned to the girls who had already nestled into a mountain of pillows and blankets. Marie was hunting for a way to watch Legally Blonde, an apparent favorite of theirs.

“So nice meeting you all,” I announced to the group. “And, uh, thanks for including me in everything.”

“And thank you for letting us mess with your hair,” Amelia said. “You’re a good sport, Colin.”

“And, like, so pretty,” Lizzie added, obviously making me blush.

“Heh, well, uh… anytime, I guess.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Marie joked.

Everyone chuckled as Gigi led me downstairs and back to the foyer.

I crouched down to put on my shoes only to have my newly straightened hair tumble into my face.

“Ach! It’s so slippery!”

Gigi giggled. “Well, that’s what you get for giving in to my friends.”

I stood up and flipped a loose section of hair over my shoulder. “Eh, I guess it’s not as bad as I thought—” I froze, realizing something. “Wait, it won’t be like this for work on Monday?”

Gigi shook her head. “Just till your next shampoo. Wash it Monday morning and you’ll be fine.”

I breathed a big sigh of relief. Maybe I didn’t mind being seen like this in front of Gigi, but I’m certain the attorneys wouldn’t be as forgiving.
“But you had a good time tonight? Seems like you liked the girls. I know they liked you.” Gigi stuck her hand out to toss the other part of my hair. “And not just cause you let them do your hair.”

“Heh, everyone’s wonderful. No complaints.”

Gigi hung her head, shyly kicking at the air. “So… will you do it then? You’ll be my bridesman?”

For a moment, I’d actually forgotten that that’s what the night was about. Were there some weird moments? Sure. Did I maybe let Amelia get carried away with some of the hairstyling? Maybe. But I really couldn’t have asked for a more chill, welcoming, down-to-earth group. And Gigi’s incredible hospitality wouldn’t be forgotten.

I smiled. “I’d be honored.”

She lunged toward me with a big ‘ol bear hug.

“Colin, thank you thank you THANK you! Yay!! My party’s complete!”

“And thank you for always being so kind to me. Seriously, it means a lot.”

Gigi pulled back and smiled. “You know, not to take up too much of your weekend, but now that you’re officially in the bridal party, Kyle is hosting a little BBQ and pool party thing for the groomsmen and bridesmaids tomorrow afternoon. The girls and I are heading over after brunch. Would love it if you came!”

A pool party? Damn, how do I turn that down? Plus, it’s another chance to get to know the girls in a presumably more sober scenario.
“I’d love to. Text me the details?”

Gigi gave me one last hug but stopped me again before closing the door.

“Colin, I appreciate you being such a good sport tonight. Seriously. That means a lot that you’re willing to put up with my weirdo friends.”
“My pleasure,” I answered confidently. “They’re each weird but wonderful in their own way.”

Gigi looked relieved to hear me say that. “And for what it’s worth, I do love the hair. Even if it gives ‘maid’ more than ‘man.’”

“Well, maybe you just gotta pick me out a suit that looks good with this hairstyle!” I kidded. “Night, Gigi.”

As I buckled up and started the car, I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this… energized. An official member of my friend’s bridal party, invited out on back-to-back days, seamlessly making friends with fun, interesting people — what’s not to like?

Even the new hairstyle didn’t tank my mood. It surprisingly made me feel more part of the group. Crazy, since if you’d told me before tonight that I’d be leaving her house with flat-ironed, flowery-scented hair, I would’ve been too scared to come.

Instead? Well, I’d never admit this to anyone — even Gigi — but I actually kinda liked it.

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Thank you to all who have read the sample chapters and to everyone who has gone on to finish the book. So happy to report it's been sitting at #1 in the genre on Amazon for over a week now!! Thank you thank you thank you :)

-Jennifer

AMAZON LINK (now available in eBook AND Paperback!): https://www.amazon.com/Will-You-Be-Bridesmaid-Feminization-e...