Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“Me?” Elliott asked.
“You’re cute, but I’m not talking about you.”
Larissa and Wendy had an appointment. I didn’t understand how that worked if they’d just admitted they loved each other, but I probably shouldn’t have been responsible for my brain right then anyway.
Thankfully, it wasn’t an Elvis impersonator marrying them, but a guy in jeans and a Taylor Swift T-shirt. Whatever. It worked.
They were picking out flowers and looking at rings when Larissa said, “But those are ugly.”
To which Wendy replied, “Wait. What? They’re way better than the ones you picked.”
“Uh-oh,” Elliott said. “Looks like there’s trouble in paradise.”
“We always have to do what you want!” Larissa shouted. “Our friendship is so one-sided. I didn’t even want to come to Vegas.”
“I didn’t even want to get married!” Wendy countered.
“You’re the one who asked me!”
Elliott and I looked at each other wide-eyed and unsure what to do. The two of them stormed out, and the first thing that fell out of my mouth was, “She didn’t even say goodbye to me. I thought we were friends.” Which did nothing except inspire more laughter from Elliott and me. My stomach hurt; I’d cracked up so much.
“Fuck, now I’m out three hundred and fifty bucks,” Taylor Swift Wedding Guy said. “You guys wanna get married?”
That was the best idea ever! How fucking cool would that be!
“Whoa. What if we got married?” Elliott said. “That’s wild and crazy!”
“Dude. I was thinking the same thing!” That quiet conscience voice came back, reminding me first that dude wasn’t something I usually said, and second, that this was a bad idea. But I was drunk, and this was fun, and when did I ever do anything unexpected like this? When did I ever throw caution to the wind and get married? I mean, I’d always wanted to get married, so why didn’t I just do it? “Do you wanna?”
“I do if you do,” Elliott replied. “We did say we wanted to do something we’ve never done before.”
“Good point.”
“You guys aren’t drunk, right?” Taylor Swift Wedding Guy asked.
We both sobered. “Absolutely not. We take this very seriously.” Elliott bit his cheek.
“We’re totally in love…like, so in love, it’s not even funny.”
“I tried to get him to date me forever, and I finally won him over.”
“It wasn’t that long, dear,” I joked. “But long enough that we want this,” I told Taylor Swift Wedding Guy.
He shrugged. “Cool, let’s do it.”
We picked out our bouquet, which I sure as shit was going to hold, and silver bands that would likely rot our fingers off, all the while laughing and poking and teasing each other.
Taylor Swift Wedding Guy took our info…our names… “His dad is part of the House of Representatives in California! Isn’t that crazy?”
“Shh. You’re not supposed to tell anyone.” Elliott crossed his lips and pretended to throw away the key.
“Your secret is safe with me,” Taylor Swift Wedding Guy said. I knew I liked him.
“Thank you!” I hugged him.
It was a blur after that, but I was smiling so big when I said “I do,” my face hurt. I couldn’t stop smiling.
The chapel had a car service that drove newlyweds to a marriage bureau office if needed, which I thought was so nice of them. We filed our official license, and then they took us back to the chapel, where they registered it for us. When we walked out, they assured us we were legally married.
Weddings were fun!
* * *
My head was fucking pounding. Was someone beating on my skull? It felt like someone was beating on my skull, which was pretty rude if you asked me. My whole body was dead weight, like I’d gained a hundred pounds overnight. I tried to move but couldn’t. Panic flared in my gut, making my eyes jerk open. Argh! I closed them quickly as the light flooding in from the window made them sting. I felt breath on my neck, and a moment later realized that the reason I couldn’t move was because of the leg and arm thrown over me.
Oh no. God fucking damn it! I’d slept with Elliott! After months of being good, going cold turkey on sex and dating, I’d caved and had what was clearly unmemorable sex with Datey McDaterson.
I groaned. Loudly.
“God. Make it stop,” Elliott said, his voice husky, sounding like he spoke through a mouth full of cotton. “You’re moaning so loud, it’s giving me a headache.”
“That’s the hangover, and if you weren’t attached to me like a suckerfish, then maybe it wouldn’t bother you so much.”
He peeked at me, only opening one eye. “Does that make you algae?”
“That makes me annoyed. I can’t believe I had sex with you.”
He rolled off me, and I sat up, but…oh…I was wearing clothes. Why would I have put on clothes after fucking?
One glance at Elliott showed he was dressed too. We were both wearing the same thing we’d had on last night, including shoes.