A deep breath. Another one. One more... and I exhaled. Swiping the thick mess of my hair away from my face—the rubber band had fallen off sometime during the run—I pushed the trolley forward.

The cake swayed with the sudden jolt of motion on the hand driven vehicle, giving me mini heart-attacks and sending shots of panic through my system. It resumed its static position after a few sways, and I sighed. The entrance to the venue was right in front of me. A few meters more, and I would reach the chapel where the wedding was supposed to be going on. However near it was, the distance was proving to be difficult with the heavy cake and no help.

Yet, I kept walking forward with a heavy heart. My mind told me to hurry up, worried about the long absence and our possible disqualification, but my heart was elsewhere. The tormenting thoughts kept nagging me, pulling me apart from all angles, showing no signs of dissipating anytime soon. Was this the right thing to do? What if we were wrong? I couldn't... not like this. The cake glistened under the blazing sun, a reminder of what I had given up in exchange for it. Was it worth it though? Was it worth the risk? I didn't have the answers. I wish I had the answers. Why couldn't I have the answers? Why was everything a mess, a mystery, a speculation till the very end? Bella... why did she let me do this?

Why?

A loud blare of the trumpet made me snap out of my thoughts. I looked around the empty area, confused. It sounded like a commotion. No, it had to be a commotion if my thinking was right. The Director must have gone mad after hearing the debacle at the back gate. Security must have been called, strategies re-evaluated, and cakes would have been transported back to the venue... except one.

I crossed my fingers and scrunched up my face. Even if it meant begging, and crying, and wailing, I would do it. I would give up the shards of pride I had left, and plead for another chance. Another chance to continue in the competition.

The doors to the cake-tasting room of our team were closed, and I hurried, fuelled by my curiosity to find out the matter. Were the sounds coming from inside? I bit my lip, and pressed my ear to the door, expecting shouts and grumbles, with the crew members ready to stake me out at first sighting for running away with the cake. The result was unexpected though.

Giggles and booming laughter reached my ear. All harmonized with the loud music. I pulled back my ear from its position on the door and frowned.

Was this the right place?

I raised my hand up to knock on the door since no one else was here to give me instructions or directions. My hand hadn't even reached the door when it got pulled open from the other side. I took a step back, startled. Muffled sounds had turned into a full-on blare of noises, making me wince, as I tried to make sense of things. A hand gripped my shoulder, pushing me forward, and the trolley in behind me. "Here comes the cake!"

The loud cheering and hooting made me blink, the blur of the motions making my head spin. It was a moment before I could look around. Bea was grinning, sending me a hand wave, and then cutting the cake with the help of a crew member. Within minutes, the cake was being handed out to the ladies filling the hall. But the arrival of the cake wasn't what held everyone's attention. Right in the middle of the hall was the stage, and upon it was Brandon—in his infamous attire.

And heck if he didn't enjoy the attention!

Entranced by Brandon like everyone else, I watched him peel off his shirt, moving his body in a sensual wave in tune to the music. He laughed—no shyness and pure confidence—bunching up the shirt and throwing it behind him. The ladies went mad, boosting his ego by urging him on with shouts and thunderous claps. Fuelled further, he took a bottle of water, uncapped the lid and threw it towards the crowd (I so wished the cap would poke someone's eye out). Blood rushed to my face, and my jaw dropped, when he emptied the water on top of his head, letting it trail down his face, his neck, his abdomen, and down to the covered area.

He wiped his face and then shook his head, waters spraying out of his hair. Unlike others, I wasn't finding anything hot or funny at the moment.

The Director and the filming crew were enjoying (and shooting) the scene like it had been the plan all along. Giving him the freedom to do whatever he wanted. On the other hand, Bea had mingled with the crowd of horny women, enjoying the show like the freaking competition didn't exist. For obvious reasons, this was making me mad. I had left everything aside, taken so much risk, all for that damn cake—and no one was freaking interested?! This was a baking competition and not a stripper show!

What was the world coming down to?

I was already losing my mind when the bomb dropped and Brandon winked at a girl in the crowd. The cheering intensified tenfold, and I had to cover my ears so that my hearing abilities could survive.

Enough was enough. Surprised at my possessive streak, I stomped towards Brandon. It was a struggle, pushing through the thick crowd of sweet-scented ladies clad in mini dresses and the astonishing strength they used to keep their good spot. It wasn't as if he was a celebrity, plus they acted like they had hit the lottery by coming to this wedding. At last, I broke through the circle around him and breathed. My mouth twitched, and my jaw dropped—because the close up was even more breath-taking.

There was this moment of regret.

That piece of hot man had been in my bed for the past week... What the hell I had been thinking? I should have taken advantage of him ages ago!

My luck had run out apparently, because even amidst the thick crowd, Brandon noticed me immediately, waving at me. The girls around me screamed. He wasn't Justin Bieber for god's sake! I attempted to wave back (and just get the hell out of here) when my bad luck intensified. Brandon shouted, "Tyler!"

I swallowed. Brandon stood on a raised platform, and his eyes shone as he looked down at me. "What?" I mouthed.

With a mischievous look, he scooped down to me and grabbed my hand. "Come up here!" The series of protests and profanities from my mouth were left unheard as Brandon pulled me up to the stage, and straightened.

"What the hell are you doing?" I said through gritted teeth, trying to wiggle out of his tight grip around my waist.

"Shh," he whispered in my ear, "Just do as I say."

His tone wasn't comprehensible. I couldn't guess whether he was fooling around or being serious. In a situation like this, I really wasn't in the mood for the former.

"Let me introduce you to Tyler Anderson!" Brandon shouted. It was probably his voice that made the ladies scream because I had no clue why would they be so inviting to me. "Are you enjoying the show?"

There was a chorus of 'yes'. I scoffed. Enjoying? They were going nuts! I was going nuts too, especially when his naked body kept pressing onto my side on the narrow stage. There should have been a limit to someone's hotness. At this rate, Brandon looked more suited at a career in stripping than a career as a swimmer.

I tried to pinch his side to let me go. It was my worst luck that he didn't even have any fat for me to hold onto. Annoyed, I tiptoed to his ear, and hissed, "What has this got to do with me?"

Brandon laughed, acting as if I had made the funniest joke. I gave him a side look, beyond confused as to what he intended to do. He didn't explain and instead turned back to the hungry vixens. "This was a short show Tyler prepared for the bachelorette themed celebrations!"

I forced a smile, waving at the ladies who weren't paying attention.

Brandon pulled me in closer, flashing one last smile. "If you enjoyed it, please vote for our cake!"

That's when my stupid mind made the connection. He was doing this for the popularity vote! I rolled my eyes, instantly grateful for him to come up with the idea and save my face with the extremely late entry. I couldn't think what he and Bea must have done to save our spot in the competition. Whatever they did, I could only thank them for their quick thinking.

About to come down from the platform, I gasped when Brandon pulled me back. My face slammed right on to his wet chest, and I winced. "Don't go down, Alard is looking at you."

His words made me freeze. Why was Alard here? He should have gone to the airport to chase Bella! "No, no, no, no."

"He can't find you?" Brandon asked.

I shook my head.

"Do you need time?"

I nodded.

"Then don't punch me."

I tilted my head, confused at the statement. Though that confusion only lasted a mere second. Brandon took a step back and bent down to my eye level. He looked me in the eyes and winked.

"What—"

Brandon shut my mouth in one fluid movement and pressed his lips to mine. I struggled for a moment, clutching his bare shoulders with my hand, and tried to push him away. The crowd roared with a deafening pitch, either from anger... well, actually from that only. Inwardly, I smirked at their reaction and slowly responded back to him. Their jealousy was just a part of the reason which made me do so. Out of the corner of my eyes, I had spotted the black figures surrounding the hall with their looming heights. Alard's men.

If only for a moment, escaping from that reality, made me kiss back Brandon. He registered my response, wrapping his arms around my waist, and helping me relax my body. We were legit doing this in the public, hell, in front of the camera, but at that moment, I wasn't even embarrassed about it.

The chorus of angry wails turned into a hooting and whistling match, egging us on to do more than make out in front of them. As if.

I was breathless as Brandon's lips moved next to mine. Losing track of time, I squeezed my eyes shut, and pretended that I could blur out the noises as well. Brandon's hand traveled up my back, and into my hair, making a bigger mess out of them than initially. I did the same, messing up his hair as mini revenge.

"Get a room!" the unexpectedly loud shout made us break apart, and send the voyeuristic audience into a fit of laughter. I laughed as well, detaching myself from Brandon and pushing him away.

His cheeks were flushed, and he was back to his boyish smiles from the confident smirks. I turned to the audience, and said, "We'll get a room! Please enjoy the cake." Taking his hand, I pulled him down from the platform, and threw his shirt back at him, forcing him to wear it.

Brandon laughed. "I know how to put on a shirt."

I raised an eyebrow. "You do? I thought you only mastered removing them."

He coughed, pressing his lips together, trying to maintain a straight face. "Do I smell something burning?"

"Not me." I took my tongue out to tease him. "Probably the women who don't own these pair of lips."

"Oh, so you own my—" Brandon stopped, the smiley expressions wiped off of our faces as we ran straight into the man who had been expecting us for the past fifteen minutes.

To conclude, Alard didn't look in the mood to joke. It was perfect timing perhaps because I wasn't in the mood to spout nonsense as well. The insides of my stomach had already coiled in anger, the small lift in the mood gone. In a tone my mother would have lectured me for, I said, "What do you want?"

Alard glared, coming straight to the point. "Where's Isabela?"

The room had unexpectedly cleared around us, or maybe that was his doing to keep us alone. I needed more time, so I didn't answer him, and kept him in circles."Why are you asking me?"

"Don't play dumb."

I smirked, crossing my arms over my chest. "Do you really need to ask me?"

"Say it right now, or I'll report you to have kidnapped my daughter."

His words were laughable, and I had to manage my emotions to not to strangle him. "Look, mister, if anyone should be accused of kidnapping, it should be you." The hostility dripped from my voice, apparent to anyone who might be eavesdropping.

Alard didn't relent. "You couldn't have gone to the airport and come back so soon. Where is she?"

I laughed, losing my composure. "Of course, I couldn't have. I left her for the cake." Brandon took a sharp intake of breath at my confession. Alard didn't particularly seem to believe me. Was it that hard for him to see that I was selfish and determined to win this competition? "She's gone to the airport. Catch her if you can."

"I don't believe you." His words made my heart thud, but I didn't let my expression slip. In a monotonous voice, he ordered to his men, "Search everyone here. I'm sure Isabela is hiding somewhere at the banquet."

I grinned. "Do that, please."

Alard's men spread over the venue, looking for Bella, inquiring the ladies, and checking each nook and cranny of the area thoroughly. I stood patiently in front of him, my relief growing stronger as he wasted his time standing here. A man ran back to him, and whispered in his ear, "We couldn't find her, sir."

"See?" The glee was too sweet in my voice to go by unnoticed.

He grunted, taking a sharp turn in the other direction, and shouting to someone on his phone in French. I chuckled. Search the airport too, you old man, you'll never find her! He went out the door, his men hurrying out after him. As soon as they were out of sight, Brandon pulled me to the side.

"Why did you let them go? What if they catch Bella?" He looked at me, his face etched with worry.

I gave a quick look around, the area was fairly empty, and then shook my head. "Bella's not at the airport. We didn't go there."

Brandon nodded in understanding. "I thought so too when you returned so early. Bea planned to make me strip for an hour more."

Bea...

"But wait!" Brandon asked again, "Where is Bella?"

I smiled, tilting my head to convey the meaning. "Right here."

"Stop kidding me. They checked everyone."

"Not everyone." I turned and took a step back. The view spread out in front of us, the banquet filled with contestants and crew and wedding guests, all laughing and enjoying this moment. With a smile, I spotted Bella, mingling with others. To be honest, she was the easiest to spot in the crowd, yet, the most difficult to recognize if you searched for her.

Slowly, I raised my hand, pointing my finger at the girl in the white dress. She was perched on a chair, the veil covering her face, and talking to the girls around her.

"There."

Brandon squinted, not able to add two and two. "Where? That's the bride."

"And that bride is, my dear, Bella."

THE COUNTDOWN HAS BEGUN!

FIVE WATTPAD FRIENDSONE Five winners will be given random prizes (you can ask for a specific one) from the above mentioned.

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IMPORTANT QUESTION for the Summer Block Party! (you earn a special point if you answer these!)

Please comment me your thoughts.

1. Liam

2. Seth

3. Tyler and Brandon's daughter (yes?!)

4. Your choice :)

1. Senior year

2. College

3. Early married life

Will you still enjoy it if the main theme is romance instead of humor?

*****

This chapter is dedicated to all my Nigerian readers! Thank you for your support.