The Diary of Lexi Ashford (Lexi Ashford: Part One) (9 page)

I’m in Vegas, I’m drunk, and Evan looks way too hot in his glitter get-up not to go out.

Chapter 11

16 hours later…

Ugh. It feels like I’ve been run over by a truck. My head is pounding, every bone in my body aches, and my mouth tastes like coconut cream pie. I have no idea where I am, what’s going on, or if I’m even awake.

I force my heavy eyelids open and glance at a clock on the nightstand beside the bed I’m lying in. Ten o’clock—I look over to see sunlight peeking through the cracks in the curtains—in the
morning
?

I clutch my throbbing skull. “What the hell did I do last night?”

I rack my brain for an answer, but then someone moves beside me. Okay, maybe the question is not what the hell did I do, but who the hell did I do?

I carefully sit up, not wanting to wake up whoever they are. Then I lean over to get a good look, crossing my fingers I didn’t do one of my infamously stupid drunk, what-the-hell-was-I-thinking moves and sleep with someone like cupid from the corner.

The person is tucked under the covers, so I raise the blanket and peer underneath.

Dark hair, soft skin, lean arms, a tattoo curving down his side …

“Evan,” I gasp, covering my hand with my mouth. Then I do a double gasp at the feel of metal kissing my lips.

I jerk my hand away from my mouth and gape at the silver band on my …
ring finger!

No, I didn’t. Please, say I didn’t. This wasn’t what I meant last night when I vowed to move forward in my life. This is way, way too forward too fast!

“Calm down,” I whisper to myself. “Maybe it’s not what you think. Maybe it’s just a joke.”

I lean back against the headboard as pieces of last night slowly creep up on me.

Evan and I are at the bar, sitting on barstools, leaning dangerously close to each other.

“I can’t believe the food poisoning stunt didn’t work,” I say. “Thankfully, we were smart enough to pull out that backup plan.”

“What backup plan?” His head angles to the side, his forehead furrowing. “You mean, getting lost in the crowd. Because that was an accident. There’s so many people on the street, I couldn’t tell what was right and what was left.”

“It might have been an accident for you,” I say. “But I totally got lost from the bridesmaid glitter posse on purpose. And so did Emersyn.”

His gaze skims the dance floor. “Where is Emersyn anyway?”

“She went back to her room for a little while, remember?” I ask and he unevenly shakes his head. “Like fifteen minutes ago, she said she had a headache and was going to go lie down. I think she just wanted to have phone sex with her boy toy.”

He shoots me an appalled look. “TMI, Lexi. Seriously.”

“Sorry, but it’s true.” I scoop up another shot and down it. “I’m jealous. I wish I was having phone sex right now. Or real sex. That would be nice.” I press my lips together as I feel Evan’s stare boring a hole into the side of my head. “Please stop looking at me like that,” I warn. “I’m serious. Stop it.”

“Stop what?” He plays dumb, but his eyes smolder with amusement.

“Looking at me all intense, like you’re picturing me naked.”

“Maybe I am picturing you naked.”

When warm tingles spill all over my skin, I try to shove the sensation away, reminding myself that just yesterday I was flirting with his brother. But I’m flustered, drunk, horny as a mother-effer, and Evan is right there, smirking at me, looking sexy as hell, shirtless and rocking the body glitter.

“I haven’t had sex in a year,” I blurt out. “But I can’t have sex with you, because I’m supposed to be moving forward in my life.”

“Oh, yeah?” He seems oddly entertained by my confession.

I nod, counting down on my fingers. “I have to get a job; get a place of my own, because having gnomes for roommates isn’t going to work; and I have to find a husband, preferably one who’s already got his shit together.”

He props his arm against the counter and rests his chin against his hand, his eyelids half lowered, his eyes glazed over. “Sorry, but I can only help you with one of those. And I’m not sure if I have my shit together. I’m still figuring that out.”

“Hmmm …” I tap my finger against my lip. “Do you have a job?”

He bobs his head up and down. “I own my own business.”

“Then there you go. You have your shit together.” I pause. “Wait, you don’t own any gnomes, do you?”

He shakes his head, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “I have a dog, though.”

“Dogs are okay,” I say. “But we should probably kiss first to see if we’re compatible.”

Evan laughs lazily. “Then what? We just get married?”

I nod my head. “Yep. And then you’ll be my husband.”

“What if I don’t want to be your husband?”

I jut out my bottom lip, pouting. “You don’t want to be my husband?”

He rubs his scruffy jawline. “That all depends on how often I have to wear body glitter.”

“How about once a month?” I ask then knock back another shot.

He considers my offer then wets his lips with his tongue. “Okay, then.”

Even intoxicated, his answer throws me off. But I have little time to process it because suddenly we are slowly leaning toward each other. When our mouths are an inch apart, lust floods my body, and I crash my lips against his.

He makes the sexiest groaning sound ever as his hands find my waist. He jerks me forward between his legs, and I gasp then moan, sliding my hands up his shimmering chest.

We start making out wildly, only coming up for air to take shots. Everything happens so fast: shots, kissing, shots. Then, suddenly, we’re standing in front of a booth that sells jewelry. Evan buys a ring then he gets down on one knee and slips the ring on my finger, telling me how amazing he always thought I was. How, in high school, I was nice to him when no one else was, how I helped him get through such a hard time without even knowing it.

When I say yes, I’ll marry him, he jumps up and hugs me, spinning us around in circles until we bump into the booth and fall on our asses.

“Wait,” I say as we stagger to our feet. “How can we get married when we know nothing about each other?”

“I know you hate glitter.” He braces his hand against the booth to keep from tipping over. “And you hate the town’s pie baking contest, but you love pie.”

“You should know more, though.” I contemplate what to do. “How about this? We each tell each other five things about ourselves: likes and dislikes, fears, worries, whatever.”

He nods. “But you go first.”

“Okay.”
Hmmm … What to tell. What to tell.
“I like warm, sunny days. They always make me think of musicals, which makes me want to skip and sing. And usually I do.”

“Okay, sunny days are good. Got it.” He considers what to tell me. “I hate the taste of strawberries.”

“Are you kidding me? Strawberries are amazing.”

“No way. They’re too sweet and too sour at the same time. And they’re soft, but the black things on the outside are crunchy,” he argues passionately. “It confuses my taste buds. Seriously, either be one or another, not both.”

“Okay, I guess no strawberries and champagne on our honeymoon then.” I wink at him then tap my finger against my lip. “Okay, here’s one. I once ate a piece of chewed gum on a dare.”

“Um, okay … That’s a little weird.” His eyes are wide. “Whose chewed gum was it?”

I shrug. “I found it on a public restroom floor.”

He dry heaves, covering his mouth. “Okay, give me a moment to process that one.”

“It was strawberry flavored,” I say for no apparent reason. “And, if you think that’s gross, then you should probably know that I once dropped my driver’s license in a toilet at a club and reached in to get it out.”

He coughs again, shakes his shoulders, and blinks a few times. “All right, moving on,” he says after collecting himself. “I’m terrified of peacocks.”

“Why? Their feathers are so pretty and majestic.”

“Do you know how easy it is for a small child to get surrounded by them and not be able to find his way out because he’s scared out of his damn mind?” he says, getting worked up. “And no one can find him for over an hour, and he keeps trying to scream for help, but the damn peacocks keep screaming over him. And they sound like a human crying for help. It makes no sense, because they’re birds. It’s like they knew I needed help and wanted to torment me.”

I struggle not to laugh at how intense he’s gotten over birds. “Did that happen to you?”

He nods, his expression dead serious. “At a petting zoo when I was four. My parents couldn’t find me for over an hour.”

“Aw, you poor baby.” I pat his head. “If it makes you feel any better, I once got stuck in a slide at a park, and my friend had to call 911. It was so embarrassing. The police showed up and everything.”

“I’m sure kids do stuff like that all the time.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t a kid. It was two years ago, and I was only wearing pants.”

His forehead furrows. “Why were you only wearing pants?”

I shrug. “Because I declared it was no shirts Friday and that anyone wearing a shirt should be forced to make-out with No Pants Wearing Willie, this guy who lived in the park by my apartment, who was always trying to sell us paper mâché penises.” When Evan gives me a baffled look, I add, “What? I was drunk, okay? And No Pants Wearing Willie was actually a pretty nice guy when he wasn’t being a total pervert.”

Evan grows silent for a tremendously long time, and I start to worry I’ve scared him off, but then he finally smiles. “I’m afraid of fish. And people that have fish mouths.”

“What are fish mouths?”

He puckers his lips, leans forward, and gives me a hickey on my neck. By the time he pulls back, we’re both laughing like lunatics.

After that, things get a little hazy, but I have the faintest memory of Evan and I laughing through our vows while standing in a chapel with a bedazzled jeweled ceiling, and “Careless Whisper” by George Michael playing in the background.

I scramble to get my clothes on then tiptoe out of the bedroom, banging my shin on the way out. The hall is way too crowded for it being so early, and I end up doing the walk of shame while hugging my shoes to my chest. Once I stumble onto the elevator, I blow out a breath as I slide to the floor.

“Oh, my God, I can’t believe I got married last night.” I shake my head at myself. “And in a chapel that had candy canes lining the aisle and an officiator dressed up like Santa.”

“It happens to the best of us, honey,” a middle-aged woman in the elevator with me says. “Don’t worry, though, getting it annulled is as easy as putting on pantyhose.”

For me, pantyhose has never been easy to put on—the whole slipping your legs into skin tight material while trying not to rip the thin material never seemed to work for me. But I am curious …

“How many times have you done it?”

“Six,” she answers. “I almost stayed married to the fifth husband, but then he bought this furry bear costume and told me it was a fantasy of his. I was cool with wearing the body part, but that mask …” She shudders. “It was just too sweaty and smelled like broccoli.” She sighs as the elevator comes to a stop. “After I couldn’t go through with it, things were never the same between us, and I had to let him go.” The doors glide open, and she steps off. “You take care, honey. And remember, no matter what happens, there’s always husband number two and three and four—” The doors glide shut, cutting her off.

A breath escapes my lips. Holy shit, is that where I’m heading? To fleeting marriages, annulments, and bear costumes?

“No … no, no, no.” I lower my head into my hands. “I can fix this.”

I just have to go back to Evan’s room and tell him last night was a mistake.

Chapter 12

I can’t go through with it. And not just because I’m a big fat chicken.

I keep replaying Evan’s proposal in my head, how I was nice to him when no one else was. From what I can remember, he was pretty emotional about it.

Then I start to worry that maybe he doesn’t even remember marrying me. By the time I make it out of the elevator, I’ve psyched myself out. Instead of going back to Evan’s room, I go to mine. Thankfully, Emersyn is in the shower when I sneak in, so I’m able to pack my bags and hurry out without crossing paths with her.

I wander around the city until Carrie Lynn texts me, wondering where I am. I’m not even sure how she got my number and how hers is entered in my phone, but my bet is I did it sometime last night and just can’t remember.

Carrie Lynn: The schedule says we should be driving home by now! Where are you?

Me: Sorry! Went shopping and lost track of time!

Then I give her my location so they can come pick me up. I’m so nervous I have pit stains by the time the SUV parks beside the curb. Evan starts to get out, but I dive into the middle seat and slam the door.

“I want to hold my bag!” I shout in a panic, hugging my bag tightly against my chest.

“
Okay
?” Carrie Lynn stares at me with a perplexed look before drawing her oversized sunglasses over her eyes and slumping back in the seat. “I don’t care what you do, just as long as you don’t yell like that again. I’m so hungover.”

Her friends all nod in agreement then put on their sunglasses.