Free Dave: Junior Year (Three Daves #2) by Nicki Elson Page A

the fact.
    Maria eventually emerged from her room in a somber, reclusive mood. Jen didn’t ask about the photos, and Maria didn’t explain. Jen told Kate what had happened, and the two of them kept a tentative eye on Maria for the next few days. Maria pretended not to notice the weird way they looked at her.
    The incident sank Jen further into her downer on love. When she returned to her parents’ house for spring break amid the flurry of her brother’s wedding, she could only view the upcoming event with a cynical eye. She felt lucky to have escaped most of the pre-wedding preparations, but there was no escaping the bridesmaid dress. It actually wasn’t horrible—a floor-length, melon-colored, strapless gown—but there was still no chance she’d be caught dead wearing it again. The rhinestones at the waist assured that.
    The dress’ best feature was that it extended past her knees, covering the lingering remnants of the nasty scrapes she’d acquired on the brutal asphalt outside the Ritz. She’d had to buy a new pair of shoes when she’d gotten home. The one she’d rescued on the dance floor had gotten left behind, and there was no way she’d go back and ask for it. The Ritz was off her list of places she’d ever go again.
    As Jen examined herself in the full-length mirror on the morning of the wedding, she wondered for a brief second what Dave would’ve thought of the dress—or more accurately, what he’d have thought of her in it. She couldn’t believe that only a few weeks ago, she’d toyed with the idea of inviting him as her date to the wedding.
    The ceremony was long and boring, and the reception was headed in pretty much the same direction. Jen’s face hurt from smiling at all of her long-lost relatives, whose names she struggled to remember. In her romantically fragile state, she wasn’t the least bit tempted to scope out any of her brother’s friends. Even if she’d been interested, that would’ve waned the moment they started group singing and wearing their ties around their heads—frat boys to the end.
    Jen was still barely under the legal drinking age, but the bartender wasn’t carding. Her dad said she could have one of something her mother had called a Fuzzy Naval. After Jen’s third drink, she still felt no effect from the alcohol. Her tolerance level had grown beyond a few ounces of peach schnapps. She asked the bartender if he had anything stronger that looked like a Fuzzy Naval.
    “Ever had a Hairy Naval?” he asked.
    Hmm, David’s had been strictly fuzzy. Dave’s was smooth and firm and perfect…
    “It’s a Fuzzy Naval with a shot of vodka,” he explained when Jen didn’t answer right away.
    “Set me up,” Jen commanded. “Go heavy on the hair.”
    When Kelly Clarkson’s voice belted out of DJ’s speakers, she grabbed her drink from the bartender and slammed it one huge gulp, then dashed to the dance floor. The kiss-off lyrics of the song echoed the attitude she wanted to adapt toward Dave. After that song ended, she stayed to dance with a couple of the other bridesmaids to UB40’s reggae-esque version of “Red Red Wine.” Its drink-to-forget sentiment more closely matched her current state. The melancholy rhythm bled into the first disco beats of Sister Sledge. From out of nowhere, the rest of the bridesmaids descended upon her, hooking arms. They formed a circle around the bride, singing “We are Family” at the top of their lungs.
    Jen attempted to escape further assaults on what was left of her dignity by hiding out with some of the older guests at a table far, far away from the dance floor. The group included a few of her mother’s bowling league friends and a couple of aunts, including Jen’s godmother, Aunt Lou. Jen adored her godmother. She was funny and down-to-earth and never took anything too seriously.
    “Darling!” Aunt Lou greeted Jen in her rich, gravelly voice. Jen leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek, sitting down in the empty chair