Finally we made it to our first destination, the bridal shop to pick up the illustrious wedding dress. We may have had a couple of shots along the way, but that’s all. Just a little something to help me with the determination of not thinking about the incident in the restaurant.

The bridal shop was beautiful. Very spacious with bright lighting and some of the most breathtaking dresses I had ever seen. Not just wedding dresses, but ballgowns, bridesmaid dresses that didn’t look hideous—they even offered champagne (which we accepted even though we were already slightly buzzed). Towards the back of the store were the dressing rooms, which you could catch a glimpse of from the front, including the small stage for the bride-to-be to stand on, surrounded by full-length mirrors and plush, comfy-looking chairs. I have no idea what the shop in Michigan had looked like, but this one in Ohio would be any bride’s dream come true, as long as you had money falling out of your pockets. The prices were astronomical.

The dress was already at the counter, packaged and ready to go. So this should have been a quick pick up, and get back on the road. But, when Chase saw me mesmerized by all of the beautiful dresses, he caught me off guard with three little words made famous by Nike, “Just do it.”

“Since I’ll probably never have one of my own, why not?” Giggling like a school girl who was getting ready to buy her first prom dress, I grabbed five dresses and ran to the dressing rooms.

And then the fun began! I don’t know if it was the trying on each dress, and twirling around like some model with a one man audience that was more fun, or looking at the workers’ expressions. They seemed to be on the verge of having a panic attack. They were having a conniption fit since they suspected I wouldn’t be purchasing any of the dresses I was trying on. Of course, I was technically a paying customer, I already paid for a dress—just not my dress.

Things really got interesting when I was trying on the last dress, which was ironic since it was not only the least expensive one, but the one that made me feel the prettiest, like a princess. I had even pulled my hair up, looking into the mirror and picturing myself walking down some aisle with it on. What I should have been imagining, however, was how to get the damn thing off.

“Chase, uh, could you come here a minute?” I shouted from inside the dressing stall. When I saw his feet from below the door, I cracked it open to let him in. “Uh, as clichéd as this sounds, can you help me out of this damn thing? I can’t get this zipper to come down.”

I lifted up my hair as he went to stand behind me. When I gazed in the mirror at the two of us, I don’t know if it was from being slightly inebriated, but damn did we look good together. That train of thought got quickly dissipated as he said, “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, I got the zipper halfway down, but—”

“But, what?”

“My cufflink is now kind of stuck in it.”

“So. Unstick it. That did not sound right.”

“Uh, if I do that, I might rip the dress.”

“You’ve got to do something. We can’t go the rest of the day stuck together, not literally anyway.”

“I’ve got an idea. You might not like it, but it really is the best way to go about this.” Reading my irritated expression in the mirror, he hurried to explain his plan. “It’d probably be a whole lot easier to pry it loose if I take off the shirt and you slip out of the dress.”

“Problem. I seriously doubt I can just shimmy out of this dress.”

“You could, with my help.” Not even waiting to see what my response was going to be, Chase began unbuttoning his shirt. But, when you think about it, I guess it really was the best way for the dress to go unharmed.

And once that shirt was off it revealed a true work of art beneath it. Chase was toned to perfection: arms that promised to keep you safe and warm at night, a chest that was padded enough to prove he did work out but not so rock-hard that it wouldn’t feel just right against your face. His killer abs led one’s eyes down to wonder at what lay beneath the waistline.

When Chase said, “Your turn,” his voice sounded a lot huskier than usual. “I think we’ll have better luck going up than down.”

Raising both of my arms above my head, he began pulling the dress up as wiggled around trying to loosen it. After a few more rounds of bouncing, pulling, and tugging, I was finally freed from the contraption. But, I was also bare, butt naked except for a pair of black lace boy shorts. What? The dress had a built in bra; they all did. The price wasn’t for the brand name only. I didn’t even remember that I was braless until Chase had put both the dress and his shirt aside and just stood there staring at me like, well, I can’t really describe like what, and all he could manage to say was, “Wow.”

“Chase, you’ve seen naked women before.”

“Like I said earlier, none that even compare.” His eyes never left my body as he said this.

“Thought you said – umph.” My words were cut off as I started to trip over my own shoes on the floor. Chase reached out to catch me, only to start stumbling over the damn things himself. Still determined to not let either of us fall, he kept his grip on my back, but we ended up plastered against the wall anyway, with my breasts smashed against his chest, and his very ‘there’ erection pressed against my core.

There were no words said between us at that moment, just a searing heat that radiated off of both of our bodies, and a look of determination in Chase’s eyes. He began to bend his head closer to mine, when someone loudly cleared their throat, following that up by saying, “Need any help in there?”

I didn’t know whether I wanted to slap the woman for ruining what seemed to be a perfect moment, or to kiss her for saving me from making a huge mistake.