Chapter 4

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Chapter 4

My head pounded. I was so hung over I didn’t know what direction was up. My eye lids were like massive weights, I had to slowly peel them open. I looked up at the celling and new instantly that I wasn’t in my own room, which meant I wasn’t in my own bed…

I looked around the room, and it looked familiar but I couldn’t quite place where I knew it from. I turned my head slowly as possible and looked at the guy lying beside me.

Fuck.

I couldn’t see his face, but I could see his back and that stupid bandana around his head.

Taylor.

Holy fuck. I had spent the night in Taylor’s bed, and I didn’t know where my pants were.

Almost as if he could hear what I was thinking he opened his eyes and looked right at me. We started at each other for a couple seconds, even though it felt like hours. And then we both jumped up and started freaking out.

“Where the fuck are my pants… how the hell could this happen?” I muttered to myself.

He was pacing around in his boxers and muttering to himself, I head a lot of “what the fuck.”

I still couldn’t find my pants. For some reason I felt like if I could find them then this whole problem would go away. I started throwing around his things around looking for them.

I was holding up a pair (of what I hoped were clean) boxers when Taylor said “What the fuck is that.”

I turned to him confused, “What?”

He pointed to my left hand, “Tell me that’s some sort of pledge to Jesus that you aren’t going to have sex till marriage.”

“What Taylor you know I already-“ I shut up when I looked at my hand and saw a big fat diamond sitting on my ring finger. I felt sick. “Oh. My. God.” I dropped his boxers like they were on fire and began to hyperventilate.

Taylor laughed tensely, “Nice job Haley! Way to get married and then cheat on your husband the first night. I always knew you were a whore.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

My breath caught when I looked over to his left hand and I saw a ring. “Apparently I didn’t cheat…”

“What.” He stared my straight in the eye, refusing to look down.

“Taylor...” He looked down and finally saw the ring. I was going to be sick.

“Fuck. This is your fault.” He pointed at me and started storming around.

“My fault! You clearly took advantage of me when I was drunk!”

“Why do you assume this was my idea?! Neither of us remembers what happened!” Which was true, I remembered nothing about last night after walking out of that bathroom.  

 “All bad ideas are yours!”

“You’re just being a bitch because Josh is going to be pissed. Not my fault lover boy can keep his girl on a leash.”

“Don’t even,” I was fuming now. There was probably smoke coming out of my ears. “Josh has absolutely nothing to do with this! Why the fuck do you think I was so drunk last night!”

“Not my fault you had a lovers quarrel and decided to trick me into getting married. FUCK. WERE MARRIED.”

It really hit me then. We were married. Hitched. Tied the knot.

We sat down next to each other on his bed. I played around with (the very large and very nice) ring on my finger, I looked over at him, “What are we going to do.”

“I have no idea.”

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