The Good Girl's Guide to Bad Men by Jessica Brody Page A

that you're . . . you know, having sex. It's just that this means you'll have a date for my wedding. You finally have a plus one!"
    Zoë thought about that for a second. Sophie's statement seemed to perplex her, as if she had been caught in an awkward dilemma. "But I already RSVP'd for just one."
    Sophie waved this away with her hand. "I know, but I marked you down for two anyway. I knew you'd eventually find a date. So what's his name? We can make him a place card right now!" She reached across the coffee table and pulled a blank card from the stack. She popped the cap off her silver paint pen, like an Old Wild West bandit on the trigger, and sat poised and ready to write.
    All eyes were on Zoë, and for the first time in her life, she actually looked uncomfortable. I had known this girl for years, and never had I seen such a distraught look on her face. She was always so sharp, so quick with a comeback, so seemingly immune to typical girly drama. She always knew what to say, and she was always comfortable saying it. And now she looked as if she had just walked into a surprise party thrown three and a half months before her birthday.
    "What's the matter, Zo?" I asked. "Do we know him or something? Is it someone's ex-boyfriend?"
    John's eyes lit up. "I knew it. It's that guy I dated last year. That Byron guy. I totally knew he was straight!"
    Zoë shook her head. "No . . . it's not that," she stuttered. "It's just . . ."
    Sophie gestured exasperatedly with her paint pen. "So just tell me the name already."
    "I'm not taking him to the wedding," she finally declared.
    "Why not?" Sophie sounded insulted.
    "I . . . um . . . I just don't think we're ready for that." Zoë reached forward and grabbed her half-eaten slice of cold pizza and took an oversize bite.
    I studied her, intrigued. This was definitely not the Zoë I knew. Something was up. She was never one to follow any sort of society-accepted dating rules. That was much more Sophie's department. When Zoë wanted to sleep with a guy, she slept with him. When she wanted to say "I love you," she said it. And when she wanted to take him to a wedding, she took him. There were no games in Zoë's world. It just wasn't her style.
    "You do realize that she's the one walking down the aisle," John commented, pointing conspicuously at the top of Sophie's head. "All you have to do with the guy is dance to a few slow songs and share a piece of cake. It's not a lifelong commitment or anything."
    Zoë shrugged, swallowing her mouthful of pizza. "No, I know. I just don't want to bring him, okay? Can we drop it now?"
    Sophie frowned in confusion as she slipped the top back on the pen and threw it into her shopping bag. "Okay, whatever you say. But if you change your mind, you can always—"
    "I won't," Zoë stated firmly, and we all took that as a sign to change subjects yet again.
    The night eventually wound down, and one by one, my friends offered me a hug and another round of stunned congratulations and then drifted out the front door. Sophie with her one hundred and sixty perfectly (or close enough) glued place cards, Zoë with the last piece of pizza and apparently some kind of chip on her shoulder, and John with his stories about the size of his new boyfriend's package. Until it was just me . . . left alone with my big shiny ring.
    Jamie was staying at his own place tonight, and it felt almost surreal sitting alone in my living room, staring down at my finger, and imagining what my life would be like from here on out, all because of a little piece of jewelry.
    I sat on the couch, admiring it for a moment. I had never actually looked that closely at it before. I mean, really looked at it. I had no idea how many carats it was, because frankly, I knew nothing about that kind of stuff. But I did know it was beautiful. No, beautiful didn't quite do it justice. Spectacular was closer. Perfectly square and seated on a thin, gleaming band of platinum. Just looking at it made me want to run out