His face drained of color. He yanked his collar shut. “Adrian, are you insane?”
Elara rushed to shield him, glaring at me. “What are you doing? It’s just a game. Do you have to make a scene?”
The bridesmaids froze, realizing I wasn’t joking anymore.
“Elara, look at him!” Dorian ducked behind her, voice full of false grievance. “He humiliated me in public. He discriminated against me!”
“Adrian! You’ve gone too far!” Elara snapped, spreading her arms to protect him like a mother hen. “I know better than anyone whether Dorian is gay. Don’t ruin our wedding day with your nonsense!”
Her words stabbed deeper than any thorn.
“You know better than anyone?” My voice dropped like ice. “And when he touched your chest, why didn’t you tell him to stop?”
“It was just a joke,” Dorian muttered smugly behind her.
“Adrian, can’t you be more mature?” Elara shouted at me. “Apologize to Dorian right now—or this wedding won’t happen!”
How many times had I heard this before?
When Dorian called her at midnight, whining he was “afraid of the dark,” she went to keep him company.
When he used my secondary bank card to buy a game console, she brushed it off.
Every time, she said the same thing.