The Girl Who Read The Dating Manual

rule eight: it pays to be prepared

Can all my good readers/friends please help a sister out and read the author's note? Dedication in upcoming chapter goes to the most helpful person :)

~~~~

Dedicated to sweghlife for her support with the hater as well. I'm trying to dedicate and show my appreciation everywhere, because you guys went out of your way to make me feel better despite the terrible messages I was receiving. Thanks for making me smile when the chips were down.

~~~~

Soundtrack:

What You Feel by Chris Levy - when Chance and Candi are at the wedding place

A Drop In the Ocean by Ron Pope - the conversation between Chance and Candi at the log cabin.

"You must be the lovely bride and groom. You make a wonderful couple," the woman said, smiling at us over her clipboard.

I almost choked, and Chance and I exchanged an uncomfortable look. "No, we're not-" I started.

"I'm not her-" Chance said at the exact same time.

"We're just friends!" we blurted together, needing to get that admission out into the world.

I'd known things would be awkward between Chance and I when we went to check out wedding venues together, but, surprisingly, Chance had seemed calm. I had a feeling a talk with Ava had done that. She could be very good at talks and advice when she wanted to be.

"My apologies," the owner of the first venue said, throwing us a serene smile. "Will the groom be joining us today?"

I shook my head. "No. He had prior engagements."

I probably just sounded formal and official to her, but really I was just trying to be witty by adding in a few puns. My humor went unnoticed.

"Right," she told me, learning to adapt to the already unconventional turn this wedding was heading. "Well, allow me to show you around the grounds, then."

She led us over lush green lawns. There was a large white hall with carved tapestries of angels, and a glittering blue lake to the left. Through the hall were clean tables with ivory linen cloths and polished wood floors. A large bar stacked with every alcohol imaginable stood by the dance floor, and outside was a red carpet surrounded by perfect white chairs and a small gazebo for the bride and groom.

Along the way the owner who was touring us-Amanda Atkinson, I believe she said her name was-explained the history of the place, the statistics, and the services they offered. Really, as long as it looked nice, I didn't care if it had first been erected in the sixteen-hundreds by a Scottish nobleman.