This is the eighth story.
This is the story of Stacy.
One of my best friends was getting married, up in the mountains around the Bay Area. I was a groomsman, so I had to fly in on Thursday for wedding party obligations, with the ceremony happening on Saturday. The wedding party would be staying at the venue itself, a resort of log cabins spread over a hillside deep in the woods.
I came from the airport by rental car, driving out of the city and into the low-lying mountains. Before turning up the steep road to the resort, I stopped at a convenience store to buy myself some late-night snacks, Pringles and Twix bars, a bottle of wine. Then I began the precipitous climb up the mountain, the trees growing taller and thicker, the road narrower. A mile up, the driveway for the resort appeared on the left and I turned in.
I followed a one-lane road cut into the hillside, trying to not look down the sharp drop on my left. Eventually a large cabin appeared at the side of the road, a man sitting outside with a clipboard. He checked me in, gave me directions to my cabin and a key, and sent me on my way. I drove even deeper into the woods, along the same narrow road, until a parking area appeared on my right. A trail switchbacked up the mountain away from it, and tiny a-frame cabins sat alongside it, rising in rows.
I parked, gathered my things, found my cabin. I entered and was standing in a tiny living room, just a table and couch, with a bathroom beyond. The bedroom was lofted above the bathroom, accessed by a wooden ladder. Everything was pine green or timber brown, bathed in just the right amount of natural light, from windows that looked out onto the surrounding woods. It was a perfect place to call home for a weekend like this. I couldn't believe I had it to myself.
The first event was welcome drinks at a brewery back down the mountain. A shuttle would pick everyone up from the main cabin at 5:30. It was currently only 2, so I went for a walk. I didn't get out of the city much and wanted to enjoy the natural world. The absence of sound, the absence of manmade air. Listen to the woods, breathe them in.
I meandered among the other cabins, then wandered down to the main resort. I saw the clearing where the ceremony would be held, the hall where the reception would be. As I climbed the hill back toward my cabin, I saw another car coming down the road. It parked just as I reached my door. I paused with my key in the lock, and the car door opened, and out stepped Stacy.
She was tall, maybe 5'10", with wavy dark brown hair that fell down past her shoulder blades. Right now she was in a t-shirt and jeans, but it couldn't hide her gorgeous figure, skinny but with some meat on her, a good ass and nice breasts. She looked up at the cabins and we made eye contact.
I smiled and waved. She did the same. Her face was heart-shaped, with dark eyebrows and a small mouth. She looked vaguely like Lily Collins. She was fucking beautiful.
"Jack!" I called.
"Stacy!"
"Bridesmaid?"
"Yeah! Groomsman?"
"Yeah! Nice to meet you! From incredibly far away."
She laughed.
"You too!"
I waved again and then entered my cabin. The weekend had just gotten a hell of a lot more interesting.
At 5:25, I left my cabin and walked toward the shuttle pick-up. It was late summer, the sky still bright, but the sun had fallen behind the mountain and the whole resort was now in shade. The day's warmth was fading, replaced by a light chill. I was in a hoodie and jeans, perfectly comfortable.
I stepped onto the shuttle. The front rows were mostly full of older people, the family of the bride and groom. I greeted the groom's parents, then made my way down the aisle. A couple other groomsmen were just behind them, the groom's high school friends, who I'd met at the bachelor party. We shook hands and chatted briefly. I would've sat with them, but then I saw, alone a couple rows back, Stacy.
We made eye contact, she smiled, and I proceeded down the aisle and swung myself into the seats across from her.
"Stacy?" I said.
"Jack?" she said.
"You got it."
She was wearing a light blue sundress, with a square neck and puff sleeves. The color matched her eyes, and complemented her lightly tanned skin. I tried to not look at her breasts pushing out against the top, c-cups I reckoned, or her legs, which were crossed, the lower hem of the dress riding up above her knees.
"Aren't you cold?" I said.
"Um, currently," she said, trying not to smile but failing, then laughing too. "I figure it'll warm up down the mountain."
"If not, you can borrow my sweater."
"That's very kind of you. If it's scorching hot, you can..." She looked at what she was wearing, then back to me. "I've got nothing for you."
It was my turn to laugh.
But she ended up being right. The shuttle descended the mountain, then circled its base, and we were blasted by the sun again. The shuttle warmed up, and I unzipped my hoodie and took it off. I looked over at Stacy, who was looking at me from the corner of her eye, trying not to grin.
"You can say it," I said.
"I told you so?" she said.
"Yeah. That."
She laughed, gave me a playful push on the shoulder.
"Do you know the other groomsmen?" she asked.
"Sorta. I met them at the bachelor party."
"I don't know the other bridesmaids at all. I didn't get to go to the bachelorette weekend."
"Well, at least you know one groomsman."
She smiled. "At least that."
The brewery was a large space, filled with locals, and we'd reserved a back couple tables. There was an open tab, and we all milled about, meeting the rest of the wedding party, making small talk. At a certain point the father of the bride made a toast, but everything else was generally casual and unplanned. After making the rounds of meeting everyone, I saw Stacy standing off to the side. We made eye contact, and I approached her.
"Did you meet the other bridesmaids?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, looking around for them. "They've got, like, seven hundred inside jokes. That I am not inside of."
"When'd you meet the bride?" I asked.
"In high school," she said. "We played volleyball."
