Another Hump Day, another prompt for #1lineWed. No technically “new” words but I feel like a champ for finding a snippet with meets the requirements. True story–I plugged in “champ” and the only hits I got was champagne. But! I discovered a place where I could add the prompt in the long form: champion. So go me! I got a couple of new words added to this scene, which happens in the beginning. Gen, our heroine in NIGHT WISH, is cat herding at a destination wedding. You can sort of figure out things from there.
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Alyssa freaked. This was not unusual. I calmed her down. Calmed down Matt, her groom. Got Lyssie’s mother out of the bride’s room, got her father in. Threatened the best man over the rings, Matt’s hangover, and the toast he hadn’t written yet.

I got everyone down the aisle to the strains of Pachebel’s “Canon in D.” Lyss looked stunning. Matt just looked stunned. They each said “I do.” They kissed. The background of St. Luke’s Chapel was perfect. The Grand Ballroom at the Elms was perfect. Everything was perfect.

Except all the bridesmaids were married to the groomsmen. Well, except for Doug, Matt’s best man. And he’d brought his significant other, and boy oh boy but she was definitely significant. Supermodel tall, legs that went from here to there, magnificent hair, magnificent face, magnificent—and very perky—boobs. Yeah, she had it all going on and despite the wedding protocol, when the dancing started, Matt led Lyss to the floor and she melted into his arms. Her parents and his joined them and there was some trading around of partners—Lyss with her dad, Matt with her mom and then vice versa with Matt’s folks. Then the wedding party was to join them in the dance but Doug led his SO to the floor. So there I stood—the last BFF standing, the full-figured, klutzy sidekick, the designated driver, and healer of broken hearts with tequila shots. Sticking out like that proverbial sore thumb.

I didn’t miss the looks. Would have been hard not to see the expressions on people’s faces as they watched me. Pity. Embarrassment. Humor—the kind where they were laughing at me, not with me. I was a champion when it came to ignoring this sort of thing.There I stood in my fuchsia—what the heckin’ color was fuchsia anyway but freaking-ugly pink with a side of purple—dress with ruffles and lace and gussets and bows that took two people to get the back done up. Buttons. No zipper. All the other bridesmaids wore champagne pink that looked more the color of taupe, sleek and frou-frou free. My dress was meant to compliment the bride’s. Yeah, right.

My place card on the head table had been moved to accommodate Ms. Significant Other. Not that I cared. Much. My dress was hideous. I wouldn’t want me in the candid wedding pictures either, and there were bound to be plenty of the table with the bride and groom. Snagging a flute of champagne as a waiter walked by ignoring me, I faded back to the edges of the party. My job was done. This was a destination wedding at the historic Elms Hotel and Spa in Excelsior Springs, Missouri, which was just northeast of Kansas City. The hotel and grounds were beautiful. And perfect because Alyssa’s wedding had to held in the perfect place. Everyone was staying at the hotel or nearby. There would be a farewell brunch in the morning before Lyss and Matt headed to the Kansas City airport to start their Aruba honeymoon. I just needed to stick here at the reception long enough to make the maid of honor’s toast. After, I could fade into the woodwork and go hide in my room with a good book until tomorrow and the brunch, when I’d have to make another toast.

Yeah, about that.
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The good news is that I’m writing. I got about 2K words on Sunday, 2400 words on Monday, almost 2K yesterday. I’m not holding my breath but I’m hoping for an end-of-month finish with the first draft. In the meantime, writers, do you have any champ or champion words to share? And readers, since the Olympics got postponed, who is your favorite Olympic champ?