Sixteen

                                    

                                          
Sixteen 
                          
14 days until the wedding 
                          
     My blue romper is making a reappearance since the sun is shining, but the light breeze has me pairing it with a light grey cardigan. My mom and I have been planning Aubrey's bridal shower for weeks, and although I'm happy with the way it turned out, I'm more relieved to finally be getting it over with. 
                          
     We booked three tables in the corner of Aubrey's favorite diner. The first table is for family and the bridal party. The second table is for Aubrey's friends, which includes some work friends, and the third table is for whoever else decides to show up. I honestly didn't pay much attention to the guest list. That was my mom's job. I, on the other hand, dubbed myself as the decorator. Even though I'm not super crafty, decorating is the best part. 
                          
     The diner is already cozy. The walls are purposely a cream color and the tables are rustic and wooden. I only "Aubrey-ed" it up a little by adding some lavender tablecloths and stuffing some glass jars with fairy lights and fake flowers. I'm happy with the way it all turned out, but I can't say I'm in the mood to play maid of honor today. I haven't been in the mood for a while now. That's why I let Brenna take care of the balloons and allowed Sasha to make up some of those silly games that people only play at bridal, or baby showers. 
                          
     Once a few balloons are tied around a chair for Aubrey, and the rest of the bunches are scattered throughout our little corner, Sasha and Brenna go to pick up my sister, who thinks they're just going out to lunch, while my mom and I wait for guests to trickle in. My mom sends greetings while I send small smiles, but when people stop acknowledging my presence I make my way over to my seat and begin to play with the floral paper napkin in front of me. 
                          
     "Guess who?" 
                          
     Before I can even register the question, my face is covered by two coconut lotion smelling hands. Only after my body recovers from the jolt I made in surprise do my hands finally try to peel away the fingers darkening my vision. 
                          
     "Mikayla!" I sing-song her name in the same way she sing-songed the question. 
                          
     "How'd you know?" she demands, and I laugh at the slight pout in her voice as she coils her arms around my shoulders and gives me a proper squeeze in a greeting before she plops down in the chair beside me. "How are you?" She smiles as she rests her elbow on the table and her head in her hand. Her brown eyes flicker down to my attire, and she instantly flicks her other hand out to feel my sweater. "You look cute." 
                          
     "Thank you." She has me smiling again, and as my eyes dart around what she's wearing I can't help but reciprocate the gesture. "So do you." 
                          
     "Thank you." She mockingly flips her hand over her shoulder before quickly adjusting the sleeve of the off-the-shoulder top she's wearing that moved with the effort. It was only a mock hair flip since her hair is thrown up in a ponytail. 
                          
     "So, are you here to stay?" I ask as my fingers once again find the napkin I was initially playing with. 
                          
    "I wish." Mikayla juts out her lower lip and blows a stray piece of hair out of her face. "But I could only get off from work for the weekend. My mom also wishes she could be here, but you're stuck with me." Mikayla sticks her tongue out when we lock eyes, but I quickly shove her arm and make her laugh away that expression. 
                          
     "You're fine." I wave her off, but then shove her arm again when she makes a grab for the napkin in my hand. 
                          
     We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes as other guests trickle in. Mikayla's occupied by her phone while I'm occupied by the napkins. I attempt to fold the napkins around me in the triangle formation that all the waiters know how to do at all the fancy restaurants, but just when I think I finally have the hang of it, Mikayla's gasp makes my hand jolt away all my hard work.