E P I L O G U E

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Three Years Later


I'm trying to open my lipstick, but my hands will not stop trembling. Finally, I put the tube down and press my hands on the cold porcelain sink in front of me, leaning. I stare at my reflection in the mirror and focus on my breathing, trying to lower my heart rate.

Breathe. You can do this.

I don't know why I am so nervous about this. I know basically everyone that will be there, and everyone will be rooting for me. I've got this.

I nod at myself in my reflection, pick up the red lipstick, and carefully apply it. My lips are now cherry red, and my confidence has increased 100% percent.

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I am the luckiest man on this planet," A man's voice says behind me.

I look in the reflection, and I feel my eyes grow wide. I quickly turn around, and point my finger at him.

"You, are not meant to be here! You're supposed to be getting ready with the guys!" I scold him.

He rolls his eyes, and gestures to his suit.

"When you're this good looking, it doesn't take long to get ready," He says with a smirk.

Damn him. He's wearing a classic black suit, but with a pink button up shirt, and a navy tie, so dark you would almost think it's black. Damn, he does look good. Really, really good. Robert chose the boys clothes, and I'm thankful he did.

"Still Joe, I don't think you're meant to see us yet," I tell him quietly, so the girls don't hear that he's here.

Joe laughs, and comes closer to me. Snaking his hands around my waist and pulling me closer.

"I don't think it works quite like that. Anyways, I'm a rebel. Born to be bad," He says to me, his eyes wild.

I throw my head back, and laugh heartily. I feel my body shake as the laughter vibrates through me, and it feels good.

Joe brings his face closer to mine, and my heart races at the proximity.

"Joe," I choke out, my voice going hoarse.

"I really, really want to ruin that lipstick right now," He whispers, his breath fanning my lips.

I almost let out an involuntary moan, and swallow it down before shoving him away.

"Maya would actually murder you, and I don't think that's how we want this day remembered," I tell him, turning back to the mirror and fixing my hair in the reflection.

"Have you got your speech ready?" Joe asks me, ignoring the potential threat on his life.

I make eye contact with Joe in the mirror.

"I've had it ready for three years," I inform him, "I hope you have yours ready,"

Joe grins at me, like I'm being unnecessarily silly, and pats his pants pocket, indicating it's sitting safely there, ready to be read out later on tonight.

"I just hope no one mentions the dinner party," Joe says.

I turn around, and lean my bank against the sink.

Method Acting || Joe KeeryWhere stories live. Discover now