8. Chapter 8
Harlow
What did we do? What did we do? What the fuck did we do?
My cock is steel under my shirt, and I know it’s literally going to take nothing for Grayson to notice it. I have to figure out a way to distract him. Video me moans again like the little slut I apparently am, and Grayson makes a strangled noise from beside me.
“Weddings in Vegas aren’t real, right?” he asks. “They aren’t real. That’s just a thing. People don’t actually get married in Vegas. It’s just for fun. A show. A spectacle.”
I scroll quickly, not able to see another second of us kissing because holy fuck, that’s hot. So hot. My dick is aching. I’m impressed, honestly, considering how hungover I am.
The next photo helps exactly nothing. “This is a photo of a marriage certificate,” I say out loud. It’s a stupid thing to say. Obviously it is. It has my name and Grayson’s and both of our signatures, and the witness lines are filled out. “Are we fucking married?”
Gray turns on his heel and sprints to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him seconds before he starts retching.
Fucking perfect. So goddamn defective that I had one man leave me at the altar and another throwing his guts up at the mere thought of being married to me.
This is great. Best day of my life, hands down.
I toss my phone onto the bed, ignoring all the other notifications, and beat on the bathroom door. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Grayson groans, then throws up again. “I think that’s obvious.”
I scoff, my hangover completely forgotten in the wake of this bullshit. “Yeah, I’m sorry that the idea of being married to me is so gross to you.”
For a second it sounds like he’s crying, so I push open the door, all my anger disappearing because this is Gray, and I fucking love him even when he’s hurting my feelings.
He’s not crying at all. He’s standing in front of the sink, hands gripping the porcelain, laughing. I don’t know what’s so funny about this whole thing.
“Why the fuck are you laughing?” I snap.
He shakes his head. “I drank a fuckload of alcohol last night. Apparently enough that I got to fucking kiss you and don’t even remember it, and you somehow think I’m throwing up because the idea of being married to you is gross to me. It’s funny. I have to laugh, or I’m gonna cry.”
“Oh,” I breathe. “It’s not because of me?”
Gray hooks an arm around my shoulder and hauls me into him, burying his face in my hair. He really needs to brush his teeth again, but as long as he doesn’t kiss me now, it’s probably fine. And why is my brain back on that kiss?
I shift my hips away from him, just in case.
And thank God for that, because he rubs his hand down my back, and my cock springs back to life. Fucking whore. My cock, I mean.
“It’s not because of you,” he murmurs into my hair. “Go order food, and I’m gonna brush my teeth. I’ll be right out.”
He lets go of me, and I step back into the bedroom to the sound of the bathroom door shutting. My legs carry me to the bed, and I sit down on it, then shift, pulling them up so I’m cross-legged. I glance around the bedroom, which is silly considering I’m alone—for the time being—and grab my phone.
Ignoring all the messages, I open my camera roll.
My heart jumps into my throat as I look at the photos.
Gray and I are nose to nose in one as we stare at each other. The next is our lips together in what looks like a sloppy kiss. Another video of us—this one with me kissing Gray’s cheek loudly and him grinning at the camera with hazy eyes.
I turn the volume all the way down on my phone, and then after glancing around again, I pull up the video that was posted online. I watch it on a loop, entranced as my tongue sinks into Gray’s mouth and he grips my hair.
A shiver races down my spine. Fuck. Why have I never kissed Grayson before? He looks like he’s into it. I guess that could just be because he’s drunk, but I don’t know.
The video plays again. There’s something new to look at every time. My fingers clutching his shirt. My tongue flicking against his lower lip. His hand tangled in my hair. The way he uses his grip to move my head exactly how he wants it.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
I press my hand to my cock, and the water in the bathroom shuts off, so I toss my phone onto the bed and pull the blanket over my lap quickly just as the door opens and Grayson steps into the room.
He eyes me for a second. I’m pretty sure I’m breathing hard, and I’m actually the worst friend in the world, because when his lips part, my dick pulses. Oh Jesus. Oh my God.
He’s definitely going to notice if I put my hand over it, and he’s for sure going to notice if I press down to try to ease the ache.
“Have you ordered breakfast?”
“What?” I ask, my heart pounding in my ears.
Gray gives me a weak smile. “Have you ordered breakfast?”
I glance at my discarded phone. I’d forgotten all about breakfast. “No. Not yet.”
He nods. “Okay. We should do that and then maybe go through notifications together and figure out what we’re going to do about this.”
I snap my attention to him. “What do you mean?”
“This.” He waves his hand between us. “The marriage thing. Have you looked at any of the notifications?”
“No.”
And I’m half afraid to. God knows what everyone is saying. Hell, I have multiple messages from Josh. That alone makes my stomach somersault.
“We should.” Gray reaches for my phone, and I catch his hand in mine. He pauses, then looks up at me. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t want to look at them.”
His eyebrows draw together. “We have to. We can’t just ignore it all.”
But we can. Right now, it’s fine. Everything is fine. No one is mad at us. No one is losing their minds. If we open the messages, then we’ll know what everyone has to say.
“Harlow,” Grayson says softly, turning my hand until he can slide his fingers through mine. “It’s not a big deal, okay? We can look. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Our parents could disown us.”
He snorts. “Can’t see that happening.”
No, I guess I can’t either, but fuck. “Alright, fine.”
I drop Grayson’s hand and reach for my phone. Fuck, I don’t want to start with Josh, but he’s still pinned at the top of my messages, so I open it.
Josh
Guess this explains a few things.
I know I don’t have any right to be upset, and I’m not. Not really.
But it DOES explain a few things.
I’m glad you’re happy. I’m so sorry for what I did to you.
My stomach tumbles, so I press my hand to it.
“What does it explain?” Gray asks in what sounds like panic.
“I have no idea.” Gray inhales so sharply that it sounds like he might be having a panic attack, so I drop the phone and turn to look at him. His face is impassive, but his eyes are wide and almost a little scared. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” he chokes out. “We’re married.”
And again with that shit. Really, what is so damn wrong with me that no one wants to be married to me?
Turning away from him, I pick my phone back up and read through my mom’s messages.
MommaBear
Call me
Are you going to ignore me all day?
I’m happy for you boys, but don’t you think it’s a little soon, all things considered?
HARLOW YOUNG, YOU BETTER CALL ME
“What did my mom say?” Grayson asks softly.
“Why don’t you check your own phone? I’m sure you have a million notifications too,” I snap.
Less than forty-eight hours ago, I was standing in a venue, surrounded by people waiting to watch me and Josh get married, and now here I am in Vegas.
Apparently married to fucking Grayson, and for some reason, the idea that he’s upset about being married to me hurts my feelings more than anything Josh did to me.
Real fucking cool of me, actually.
My eyes start burning, so I turn more away from Grayson so he doesn’t see it.
Doesn’t matter anyway since he reaches across the bed and grabs his own phone, then starts scrolling through it.
I exit off my messages and start looking through the comments on Instagram.
I swear everyone and their mother has seen this post. There are comments from people who were at the wedding calling me a cheater, saying it’s no wonder that Josh left me there.
That fucking hurts, but okay. Josh is responding to those people, telling them to leave me alone, which is nice, but confusing as fuck.
My mom commented with hearts, and Gray’s mom did the same.
There are other comments too. ‘Congratulations’ and ‘about damn time’ and ‘I’m so happy you two finally figured it out.’
This is all too fucking much.
I toss my phone onto the bed and stand up. Sitting still is gonna make my brain spiral, so I start pacing. This was the stupidest idea I’ve ever had. Vegas, heartbreak—okay, so not really, but that’s not the point—and alcohol clearly don’t mix.
What was I thinking?
I obviously wasn’t.
“Hey,” Gray says, stepping in front of me and stopping me. “It’s okay.”
His voice is low and soothing, and I have to laugh. I guess it’s like he said; if I don’t laugh, I’m gonna cry.
“We can just get it annulled. It’s not a big deal. You don’t have to stay married to me.”
I jerk my head back to look at him. “No. No fucking way.”
Grayson’s eyes widen, and his mouth falls open. “What do you mean, no?”
Panic grips my chest. “I can’t get left at the altar and have a failed marriage in less than forty-eight hours. That’s fucking embarrassing.”
Grayson swallows hard. “Okay, so what are you saying?”
“I’m saying we have to stay married.”