A/N: Texas readers, if you are going to the Dallas ROWYSO show, I would love to meet up with you. Follow me on twitter so you'll know where I will be hanging out. I'll tweet the day of so you know where to find me! I hope I can meet a few of you :)

Ruth's POV

Mine and Ashton's criminal act resulted in the bakery closing for the day. They had to give a refund to all the parents for having to cancel today's lesson. From the few text messages Ashton sent me this morning, he's in a shitload of trouble but told me not to worry, which is hard because I'm also at fault. If it weren't for instigating a playful chase, we wouldn't have made as much of a mess and would have finished earlier and probably could have avoided running from the police. But then again, I would repeat last night over and over again if I could.

I've been debating whether or not to stop by the bakery to apologize, but I'm a coward and don't want to be in the same predicament as Ashton. Instead, Serena picks me up from my apartment to spend the day wedding dress shopping. Given that she has less than three months until her wedding, she is going to have trouble finding a dress in time. What normally take eight to twelve months, Serena is going to do in three. If it were anyone else, I'd say it's impossible, but Serena always has a way with making things work.

"I was looking online and I found a few dresses that I liked," Serena says, switching glances between her phone and the road as she tries to find the bridal boutique. "When I sent the pictures to Mom, she flipped shit. 'That's too revealing.' 'You'll look like a nun in that one.' 'Why don't you just wear my dress?'" she mimics her mother's tone, her irritation and annoyance growing. "I didn't tell her we're going shopping today because she'll ruin everything and if there's one thing I can save, it'll be my dress. And yours. She's not going anywhere near yours."

I chuckle. "My future dress thanks you."

Serena circles around the block, finally finding a parking space not too far from the boutique. I lend her a few quarters for the parking meter after she dumps everything out of her purse looking for more change.

"So, catch me up," she says. "Has anything new happened with Ashton? Have feelings been reciprocated? Do I have to start planning your wedding?"

"I'm going to answer all three of those questions with no."

"C'mon, Ruth," she whines. "You live next door to the guy."

"Two doors down," I correct.

"Surely you talk every once in a while."

"Occasionally."

"I call bullshit."

"What?"

"Your phone hasn't stopped buzzing since I picked you up," she says, pointing to the small device sticking out from my purse, the screen lighting up. "Unless you've been slacking off with work or replaced me with a secret best friend, that has to be him."

"I do have other friends, Ser." I pull out the device, several missed calls and a few text messages from Ashton filling the notification screen. Before I can open any of the messages, the phone vibrates in my hand, Michael's number appearing on the caller ID.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Do you have something to do with the bakery being a mess?" Michael asks.

"Good morning to you too."

"Let me rephrase the question: were you here last night with Ashton?"

"Uh..." My eyes dart to Serena who mouths 'is it him' and I shake my head, mouthing that it's Michael. She grimaces.

"You're not going to get in trouble, Ruth," he assures. "I know it was you. Your hesitation gave it away."

"Okay, Mr. Detective. You caught me."

"Call me Holmes; Sherlock Holmes."

"At least say the phrase right."

His laugh puts a smile on my face. "First you say you like him and now you're trespassing property with him? I don't know if I like what he's turning you into," he teases.

"This probably isn't the best time to talk about this," I warn, eyeing Serena as she looks both ways across the street and drags me along with her towards the boutique. "I'm out wedding dress shopping with Ser."

"She hasn't gotten her dress yet? Good luck with that."

"Thanks."

"By the way, are you still up for learning how to cook?"

"Not really, but I guess I have to learn sooner or later."

"Do you want to come over tonight? I was thinking about making baked chicken. I thought I would start you off with something easy."

"You must not know me," I joke. "You know cooking doesn't come easy to me but sure, I'll come over."

"Great! I'll be home all day thanks to Ash—not that I'm complaining—so come by whenever you'd like." I agree and end the call just as we walk through the store entrance.

Everything is white. White walls, white furniture, white décor, white dresses. The essence of purity surrounds me and I feel an urge to repent and reclaim my virginity because of this place. An elderly woman with a tight ballerina bun high on her head welcomes us inside.

"It seems bride's these days are getting younger and younger!" she says, shaking my hand. Upon closer inspection, her nametag reads 'Pamela.' "You must be my next appointment. Serena, right?"

Good Lord, is it that hard to ask who the bride is before making assumptions? "No, I'm Ruth, she's Serena," I correct, pointing to my bubbly friend.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! You'd think after all these years I'd be better at picking out the bride," she says, rolling off on a tangent and sharing memories of past customers. "Well, Serena, do you have anything particular in mind for your dress?"

Serena begins throwing out dress terminology that flies over my head, but Pamela seems to know what she's talking about. While Pamela saunters off to grab a few dresses from their collection and has her assistant bring us complementary wine and cake, Serena and I browse the store.

"So what did Michael want?" Serena asks, examining a very puffy ball gown with far too many jewels around the bodice.

"Nothing really," I say, withholding a few minor details. My love life should be the least of her worries. Wedding plans are priority. "He just invited me over to teach me how to make baked chicken."

"Season it and stick it in the oven. It's not that hard, Ruth."

I throw my arms up in the air. "Does no one know me anymore?"

"Michael's a nice guy and all, but he gives me a bad vibe."

I hate that we keep having this disagreement. "Why—because he's actually a good person? I totally sense that too. Just thinking about it gives me the heebie-jeebies."

She purses her lips. "That's not what I'm talking about. Maybe I just favor Ashton over him."

"That doesn't seem fair to Michael," I say, my voice slightly rising. "I liked him for a reason in high school and that same reason stands today, but in a less romantic way. He's a good person. Just because you don't see what I see doesn't mean you shouldn't give him the benefit of the doubt."

"Sorry," she croaks, her eyes trailing to the redwood floor.

She hates when people yell at her and even though I wasn't yelling, it was close enough to cross the line. After being bullied, Serena can barely take any sort of verbal lashing may it be mild or extreme. I'm normally cautious and have learned to keep my voice steady for her sake. Poor Calum had to learn the hard way after they got into a small fight over who does the dishes. She locked herself in my closet until Calum removed the door from its hinges and apologized profusely. It was kind of cute until he couldn't figure out how to put the door back on.

"It's fine," I say, pulling her in for a short hug. "Just keep an open mind. Who knows, maybe I'll fall for Michael again before I fall for Ash."

She wiggles her eyebrows, her hurt demeanor changing to sly. "Since when do you call him Ash?"

Thankfully Pamela interrupts and guides us to the dressing rooms with several gowns hanging over her shoulder, the hems dragging along the floor. She gestures for me to sit on the suede couch, her assistant handing me a glass of white wine and a slice of what looks to be vanilla cake with a strawberry filling. While Pamela and Serena go into one of the dressing rooms, I take a bite of the cake and cringe. Not because the cake is bad but because it's nothing compared to Ashton's. The texture is slightly dry and it tastes like it came from a box. I almost don't want to eat the rest of it, but it's free and I skipped breakfast.

"I'm the only one who can satisfy that sweet tooth of yours." His voice rings in my head.

As much as I'd like to tell that cocky, flirtatious, charismatic, cute baker that he's wrong, my taste buds are preventing me from doing so. I'm so adamant about denying every emotion and truth; it's tiring and unnecessary. I've accepted Ashton and his flaws, and I've accepted that I want to be around him as much as I can. And he seems to like that, which is annoying because I can't control my curving lips when I think about it, but I like it too.

Nearly making me spill the wine in my hand, my phone rings loudly in my purse. Balancing the glass on the armrest, I carefully pull my phone out to find a text from Ashton.

"Baking lessons resume tomorrow. Will I be fortunate enough to see you there again, or will you be too busy repenting for committing a crime?"

Why do I have a feeling he was smirking when he sent this? "I'll be there," I write, pulling my lips back to erase my smile. Serena squeals inside the dressing room, heavy fabric rubbing against her skin and floor as Pamela helps her into the first dress. "Everything all right in there?" I ask, putting my phone away and mildly enjoying more cake.

"Yeah," Serena says breathlessly. "The corset is just a little tight."

She walks out of the dressing room, Pamela holding the train behind her, and perches onto the circular pedestal in front of three full-length mirrors. The sleeveless ivory ball gown is covered in lace with a satin ribbon corset on the back. The neckline is flat against her chest, unflattering to the minimal cleavage she has. The bodice may show off her waist, but all her other curves are being hidden by the puffy skirt.

"Nope," I say. "Take it off. Ball gowns are not your friend. It does nothing for your figure."

"And this is why you're my best friend," Serena says, giggling as she twists her body from side to side, examining the dress in the mirror. "I don't like it either to be honest. It's a bit too Cinderella for me."

"Less Disney princess and more fitted or without tulle," I say, urging her back into the dressing room.

Lifting the heavy skirt, she scurries back into the room with Pamela closely behind. While Pamela helps Serena out of the dress, she fills her customer service representative duties by playing twenty questions: wedding edition.

"So are you having an indoor or outdoor wedding," she asks, pulling the satin ribbon swiftly through the loops of the corset.

"Outdoor, hopefully," Serena says. "If it rains we have accommodations for it to be inside."

"That sounds nice. How did you meet your fiancé?"

"Ruth's brother introduced us," she says. "Calum is a really great guy and more than I could ask for. We've only been together for a few years and we're still pretty young, but sometimes you just know who the right person is."

When Luke told me about Calum for the first time during one of our Skype calls, I was a bit skeptical of him. He made him sound like the perfect guy all women would like to date: patient, kindhearted, level-headed, and undoubtedly cute. It seemed too good to be true, but Calum was the whole package wrapped with a neat bow.

"That's cute," Pamela says. "Young love is so admirable."

Serena giggles bashfully behind the door. The zipper slides up the length of the next dress and she emerges once again, this time in a chiffon dress with a capped-sleeve lace bodice. It flows gracefully as she walks to the pedestal, swaying with every movement. The pure white gown hugs her waist and falls straight down her hips, caressing the floor. People aren't kidding when they say a bride's face lights up when they find themselves in the perfect dress. A smile consumes Serena's face, jubilant emotions reflected in the mirror.

"Holy crap," I say, scooting to the edge of the couch.

"I know," Serena says.

"You look amazing."

"I know." Excitement fills her tone.

"How much is it?"

"Just enough to barely stay within my budget."

Pamela runs off to the other side of the boutique and returns with a floor-length veil and slides the comb into Serena's hair. "What do you think?" she asks, flaring out the hem of the dress.

"That depends," Serena starts, "When will it come in after we order it? I only have two and a half months until the wedding."

"Oh," Pamela says, her tone worried. "Dresses normally take several months to be shipped to the store. The orders can be expedited, but there is no guarantee that we'll get it in time."

"Don't forget alterations," I say. "That takes a couple weeks."

"You're not helping, Ruth," Serena snaps.

This is why dress shopping is one of the first things brides shop for when planning their wedding. I knew her short timeframe would be an issue. I probably should have done a better job as her main-of-honor by pushing her to find a dress right after she got engaged.

"We may be able to work something out," Pamela says. "We had put this dress back on display as a sample after a woman came in yesterday for a refund because she cancelled her wedding. It hasn't been worn and you fit the dress almost perfectly, so it shouldn't take too long for alterations. If you really want it, I can sell it to you as is."

And Serena's unexplainable power to make things work out has shown itself. Screw four-leaf clovers and rabbits feet; Serena is the physical embodiment of a lucky charm. She seriously needs to teach me her ways because life would be so much easier with that kind of power.

"Get it," I urge. "You look stunning in that dress and I don't think anything else will top it. You're not going to have another chance like this."

Serena stares at her reflection again, a smile creeping upon her lips. "How do you think Calum will react when he sees me walk down the aisle in this?" she asks.

"Ten bucks says he'll cry."

She chuckles. "Deal."

There's something heartwarming about seeing your love-stricken friend glow with bliss. It's admirable. Dare I say, encouraging. I want what she has. The ups, the downs, the laughs and tears, the comfort and security, and knowing that your partner will fall in love with you all over again just by seeing you smile. It sounds so nice.

Serena makes a down-payment on the dress and is fitted for alterations. With taxes, the total is over-budget, but I pitch in and helped cover the extra. As repayment, she offers to buy my shoes for the wedding, which is an offer I can't decline. The final major investment has been checked off the list and all that's left is decorations and miscellaneous items that seem unnecessary, but according to Ser, they're of utmost importance.

It hasn't completely registered in my mind that my best friend will be married in less than three months. The bond we currently have will change completely, and I don't think either of us is ready for that.

"Do you want to come with me tomorrow to look for bridesmaid dresses?" Serena asks as she parks outside my apartment.

"Um..." I trail off. I can't keep using the 'I-have-to-catch-up-on-work' excuse. I need to start coming up with more creative ones. "I can-"

"Wait, I forgot my mom and I have to go to the venue to give the owner a final guest headcount. Maybe we can go this weekend?"

Her luck is rubbing off on me. "Sounds good," I say, stepping out of the car.

"Try not to burn Michael's apartment down."

"We'll see," I joke, waving goodbye.

____

A/N: I didn't intend to take so long to update. Sorry about that. Not a lot happening here, but this story has a friendship theme to it as well as romance, so it was needed. Thank you for continuing to read!