5. Georgia
RAAAAANNNNNNNGGGG
RAAAANNNNNNGGGG
RAAAAAAAAANNNGGGG
“What… the hell… is going on?” I groan, my head pounding against my skull as my phone alarm goes off.
Wait… my alarm?
I don’t set alarms.
I make a move to look around the room, but my eyes won’t open, and the sound of the alarm makes my head feel like I’ve fallen off a cliff and hit it against a boulder.
I’m never touching alcohol again.
I think I gave myself an involuntary lobotomy with my poor alcohol-induced decisions last night.
RANNNNGGGGGGG
When the alarm goes off yet again, I huff.
“Why is the fucking phone—”
A groan stops me in my rant. A manly groan.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
“I’m never doing that again.” Derek sighs, moving in the bed.
Wait…
Derek?!
“Oh… my God. Oh my God… Oh my God! I did not sleep with you last night,” I whine, pinching my eyes shut in hopes of waking up from this nightmare-shaped dream.
Fuck if I had sex with him, I’d at least like to remember it.
Derek chuckles darkly, almost pained, behind me.
“Trust me, Blondie, if I fucked you last night, you’d know…”
My head jerks so fast to face him, I almost regret the sharp pain it causes, but the sight of Derek lying with a dress shirt ripped open, tattoos on full display, and his brown curls tousled, with red kiss marks on his neck, has my ovaries awakening.
I tilt my head, “Wait a minute… You curse? The illustrious Mama Bear has a potty mouth?”
Derek playfully rolls his eyes, grimacing slightly.
Knowing he’s not actually annoyed with me, I smile and take him in fully.
I’ve always been able to remember an outfit, the material, who’d made it, and when. It’s been like my own fashionista superpower for as long as I can remember, and now that I’m looking at Derek, three things have caught my eye that I can’t shake.
His shirt
The unzipped slacks he’s donning
The lime-green handcuff encasing his wrist.
“What’re you wearing?” I croak, raising a brow as I take in the white dress shirt before landing on the all-black slacks.
I remember vividly that he’d been wearing an Amelia Tate army green sweater; the back of the sweater had gone viral for its spray-painted teddy bear and the Amelia Tate logo.
He’d even paired the outfit with a pair of quiet designer jeans, Carlos LeBlanc, to be exact.
Looking at him now, I’m devastatingly aware that these are not his clothes. The shirt is too big and the pants too tight. Derek's clothes typically fit him like a glove.
“I could ask you the same thing. You had on that cute little sequined number last night.”
I roll my eyes and shift in the bed. “I still… do.”
He furrows his brows, and my heart stops.
My eyes widen in horror, an anxiety rash brimming against my skin as my eyes trail down and land on the tattered white dress loosely hanging off of me.
“What…The… Fuck?” I heave, jumping from the bed.
My body only makes it half a centimeter away from Derek, his dastardly lime green handcuffs keeping me tethered to him.
And here I thought Derek was the only victim of the handcuffs…
He groans, “What the fuck? Why are we stuck—”
A bark cuts him off.
My eyes widen to the size of saucers.
A dog? he mouths, brown eyes wide as they swiftly move from me to the door of the bedroom that leads out into the hotel's living room.
“Go check!” I whisper-shout, gesturing wildly to the door.
“Me? Why should I check?” He raises his brows before shooting daggers at me with his eyes.
“Are you not the man?” I taunt, running my free hand through my hair.
“Are you not handcuffed to said man? What if it isn’t even coming from our room?!” he whisper-shouts back.
I groan before my eye lands on the shiny key behind him.
Pursing my lips, I roll my eyes. “Unlock us, the key’s right there.”
Derek grins. “You’re so smart,” he says in a mocking tone.
So, of course, I mimic him. “You’re so smart.”
When we’re finally uncuffed, he gets out of the bed and slowly makes his way to the living room. Trailing behind him, I groan, seeing my clothes from last night thrown on the floor near the front door.
“That was a two-hundred-dollar set…” I curse under my breath, picking up the jeweled two-piece as Derek coos from behind me.
“Look at… her!” he whispers, his voice soft, and when I turn around, I’m pretty sure I’ve died and gone to heaven.
He’s standing shirtless in the living room; the slacks he’d been wearing hang loosely on his waist. My mouth waters at the sight of him, but what catches my attention the most is the dirty blonde American Cocker Spaniel in his arms.
The puppy is small against his chest with the prettiest pair of brown and green eyes.
“Oh my goodness, she has heterochromia!” I squeal, completely disregarding my clothes as I trot toward them, my arms out for the dog.
He carefully places her in my arms, a soft smile on his face as he pets her head.
“What is your name, precious?” I coo, my eyes widening as I take in the diamond-encrusted collar around her neck, only to find nothing.
Derek raises a brow in anticipation, but I shake my head.
“She doesn’t have a tag, only this coll—Is this my diamond choker from last night?” I gasp, quickly unclasping it from the dog's neck.
This could’ve been so dangerous for her…
“Shit… I do vaguely remember you wearing it, so how’d the dog get…” Derek stops talking, his body frozen as he eyes something on the coffee table.
“Fuck,” he curses, running a hand through his hair, putting me on ten immediately.
“What?! What happened?!” I exclaim, rushing over and stopping dead in my tracks when I see his face. I clutch the puppy tighter to my chest.
“This isn’t good, Blondie.”
There are two sheets of paper on the table, a small Polaroid picture, and a tiny gold-encrusted box.
I gulp, squinting at the biggest paper in Derek’s hands.
“Read it out loud.”
Of course, now, of all times, I can’t understand what I’m seeing…
“To Gerek, congratulations on your nuptials! I’m so happy that you cool cats invited me to the ceremony.
I’m so sorry I couldn’t get you a real gift.
I’ll do it soon, but please have this puppy as a small gift!
When I saw how excited G-baby got seeing the puppy, I had to buy it for you two! Love… Luka Espinosa.”
My jaw drops.
“Wait—”
“Luka…” I gasp, my heart racing as I eye the dog, then the letter. “The lead singer of Twisted Vipers knows me?!” I squeal, jumping up and down with the yipping dog, coming to a stop when I catch the look on Derek's face.
“Georgia, do you have selective hearing? Is that really all you got from that letter?”
First off, rude, and yes, that is in fact all that I heard…
Grimacing and partially smiling, I hold up a finger.
“Refresh me…What did you say?”
“The first line of the letter says, ‘Congratulations on your nuptials!’” he exclaims, looking distraught.
The words stick out like a sore thumb as lead pools in my belly.
Nuptials?! As in married?
“Maybe it’s a prank… Jace, this isn’t funny!” I yell, trying to laugh, but only stop when my eyes snag on the Polaroid on the table. “Oh my God…”
My hand shakes, heart racing as I reach out to grab the small photo on the table.
“Holy shit…”
The picture looks like something out of a 70s-themed rom-com with vibrant neon signs, red velvet floors, obscene curtains, and flowers all around us.
But that’s not what has my heart racing.
It’s Derek and me, dressed in our current outfits, entangled in a passionate kiss.
An Elvis impersonator stands behind us, grinning.
“Shit.”
“Georgia… What is that?” he asks, but he already knows the answer. Derek takes a step toward the last note and the gold box.
Gulping, I close my eyes. The headache from my hangover has the room spinning.
“To Derek, I was so thrilled that you invited me to your ceremony! You almost forgot this at the chapel. Can’t believe you almost left a twenty-thousand-dollar ring in my purse LOL. Congrats again, you two. XOXO, Zola.” He breathes a sharp exhale before slowly opening the box in his hand.
“Oh my God…”
The ring of my dreams sits gracefully in the ornate gold box. It’s an emerald-cut green-and-gold ring. The band of the ring is decorated with vines embedded with tiny diamonds.
My jaw drops as Derek and I lock eyes.
“We got married…” we speak at the same time.
“How?! You and I couldn’t have—”
“Well, we sure as hell didn’t have sex last night and look at our clothes!” I cry out, horror riddled in my voice as I take the ring, sliding it onto my finger.
Perfect fit.
“Fuck,” Derek curses, storming out of the room.
Seconds later, the sound of him retching from the bathroom echoes in the hotel room.
Cursing under my breath, I gather all of the papers and put them where the dog can’t reach, then head inside the bathroom.
He’s already up and rinsing his mouth out when I get there. I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms. He looks at me through the mirror, his back muscles on full display.
“How do we fix this?” he asks, voice gruff from exertion.
“Look, maybe it’s not real. We were drunk off our asses last night.
Maybe we just dressed up and took some pictures.
The heart on the Polaroid has a logo on it…
We can head there and ask them what happened last night.
Everything will be fine, and no one will have to know what happened,” I say, taking a step forward.
Derek doesn’t shy away from my proximity; instead, he relaxes into me as I rub his back.
“It’s going to be okay?”
“Yeah… we just need our phones. Where is my phone, actually? I’ve only seen yours.” I frown, tugging my bottom lip into my mouth as his phone rings.
Great…
We head out of the bathroom, and he picks up the call.
I watch silently as his jaw goes slack, and he curses under his breath. What could possibly have him looking at me like that?
“Check for your wallet, Blondie,” he commands flatly.
Like a soldier, I follow through and come up short. My entire purse is missing.
“That’s what I thought. Okay, we’ll be there shortly. Put the dog up; we’re hitting the club.”