As to follow traditions, all of the bridesmaids and the maid of honor stays over at the bride’s home the night before the wedding. Being there in the morning to help out each other and to help plan extras if needed.
"Girls! Someone help me!" Jennifer's voice shouted, as we all stopped talking.
I got up and charged down the stairs, peeking my head over the railing, there stood Austin who looked like he was about to puke any second.
"Whoa there Mister, why are you here? Shouldn't you be with the rest of the guys?" I scolded at him, waving my finger around.
He made a grab for my finger, and hushed me.
Jennifer looked at the two of us in awe and told me to take care of him, while she goes to make food.
"And I wonder who's going to have a nice hangover tomorrow." I giggled.
He snickered, "Don't worry, I'll still look just as hands-" before he could finish his sentence, he dived for the washroom.
That idiot. I walked over to the washroom slowly watching him kneel over the toilet. Few seconds later in came Jennifer holding a cup of water for him.
"I hope my brother's in a better condition, ‘cause I can totally imagine your sister screaming her head off when she sees his nasty face."
Austin shook his head at me, "Not happening love, he's in a worse condition than me. We made sure he drank until he wouldn't even remember his own name."
"You guys shouldn't even be drinking at all," I muttered shaking my head, as I rubbed my hand down his back. This poor guy is puking his guts out.
"Hey. I'm fine. See?" he said, pointing at himself.
"Uh no you're not. Now off to bed mister." I ordered, pulling him up. One tug and he got up, but another tug and he’s off, on the ground again.
"Austin Lane! Get off that fatass of yours and get to bed!"
"Tone down a bit, would you! And don't tell me what to do! You're not my mother!"
Oh, going there now?
"Right, well I suppose I'm not that caring girlfriend either, so fine be it that way!" I yelled out stomping away back upstairs leaving him lying on the washroom floor.
He knows better than to mess with me. Or he should, ‘cause I do remember winning every argument and fight with him back then. Young or not. I was born a fighter.