SH*T!!
"Ooowww, f**k me, why is it so bright in here?.... bloody creeps."
Who leaves the curtains open after a wild night at the club? My head is banging, aching and drumming. I need injections for this hangover.
I groan, my eyes sealed shut, as the room spins like a drunken merry-go-round. The worst hangover ever hijacked my brain and my mouth is drier than the Sahara. I stretch a shaky hand towards the bedside, searching for the Advil i desperately need.
My fingers dance across the surface, blindly opening drawers and rifting through the contents. Where is it? Ah, there... almost... my hand closed around the bottle, but it was just out of reach. Why is it so far?
With very reluctant effort, i pry one eye open, then the other. The room swam into focus, but it wasn't mine or ebony's or even Caroline’s. Panic begins to creep in.... “s**t where the f**k am i ?"
A chiseled back faces me, the muscles rippling under smooth skin as the guy breathed softly. My gaze lingered.
"Damnnnnn" I whispered despite my foggy brain screaming to focus. Who is this Adonis?
Wait, what exactly happened last night? My hands flew to my body, checking for... anything. Relief washed over me when i realized nothing seemed out of place. I quietly gather my stuff after another eternity of admiring the sexy creature in bed with me. Trying not to make a sound, i slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind me.
The hallway is a blur as i make a beeline for the exit. I don't want to know what happened. I didn't check to see his face. I don’t remember the mistakes of last night, so there’s nothing to regret. All i want is my own bed, a dark room, and sleep. I'll think about the rest in Asheville.
The cool air hit me like a slap. I stumbled, almost falling. Squinting, searching for a landmark, I asked my semi-conscious self where i am and how did I even get here?
Caroline and Ebony must be worried, that's if they are awake and alive. Last night remains a blur but i know they were wasted. "Ohhhh f**k f**k fuckkkkkkkk" I have to go back to our hotel first.
I hail a taxi
"The cosmopolitan Hotel please"
"Looks like you had a crazy night," the taxi driver tries to start a conversation.
"So it would seem sir."
Laughing, he replies, “Welcome to Las Vegas.”
"I'm honored," I read dryly. Please just take me to the hotel, man, ain't nobody got time for this chit-chat.
We finally arrived at the hotel; I paid him extra and headed straight to Ebony's room.
Girls!!! Girls!! Girls!!! I screamed before i even reached her room. I push the door and surprisingly, it opens. I walk in, hoping they are in there.
I walk in to see two wasted girls on the queen-sized bed. "Oooooohhhh goood", my knees give in, weak with relief. They're still in their clothes from yesterday, reeking of alcohol. I move ebony's hand from Caroline's face. The ebony sleeps like a dangerous animal. She must've kicked Caroline out of bed a few times already. I'm glad they're safe, sound and asleep. I cover them with a duvet and go to my room with plans of sleeping like a dead bat.
After our first night in Vegas, we all agreed that the Viva La Vida Loca lifestyle wasn't for us. It was a wild week in Sin City. We went on with open arms and high heels.
We splurged on a luxury ride for the week — a sleek, black Escalade with a driver, DJ, and champagne. The girls dubbed it "The Vegas Queens" and cruised the Strip in style, hands up, hair flying, laughing like maniacs.
Next we went to the Bellagio Fountains. We sat in the front row, sipping coffee and marveling at the water ballet. Then, it was off to Caesars Palace for some serious casino action. As my Jesus would have it, i hit the jackpot at the slots — $500,000! The girls went wild, showering me with hugs and champagne. Lots of champagne.
The week blurred into a kaleidoscope of neon lights and laughter. We went from Cirque du Soleil's "O" at the Bellagio to Dinner at Gordon Ramsay's Hell's Kitchen. A tipsy gondola ride at The Venetian and then our absolute favorite: shopping spree at The Forum Shops. By popular demand, we went to a rave at Hakkasan and then a quick trip to Red Rock Canyon.
We met people from all over — a charming couple from London, a group of bachelorettes from Texas, and a DJ from Ibiza. We partied like rock stars, danced on tables, and made memories to last a lifetime.
As we boarded their flight back home, sunburned and exhausted, we grinned at each other. "Best. Week. Ever!" The Vegas magic lingered, and we knew we needed some of that magic.
It's been two weeks since we got back from Las Vegas. Caroline decided to spend some time with us still, after L.A. and Las Vegas. So needy, I’m just kidding.
We are currently in our beautiful home in Asheville. Imagine a cozy duplex nestled in a quiet neighborhood, where the warmth of friendship fills every corner. Ebony and i have turned this place into a stunning haven.
I sip my coffee as i go through my inbox in the living room, where you're greeted by plush cream-colored couches, adorned with vibrant throw pillows in shades of emerald green and terracotta. The walls are painted beige, complemented by rich wood accents and a statement chandelier that casts a warm glow.
I'm trying to catch up with the people of the world after my vacation. My inbox is flooded with emails. Chill people, you'll all get a taste of my awesomeness.
I go through the emails, barely opening any. I can't taint my relaxed energy with unnecessary pressure.
One particular email piques my interest. It says "Notice of registered marriage" from the Clark County Court. Concluding it is probably an ad or sent to the wrong email address, i skip it and move on to my social media accounts.
I go through my messages on i********:, t****k and Twitter. Reply to urgent emails and messages.
After that, i throw myself into some work-related issues like sales reports and partnership offers from different companies and brands.
My mind, however, keeps bugging me somehow about the marriage email. I'm just going to take a look. It's a rather strange email after all.
My heart skipped a beat. What. The. Heck.
I open it, eyes scanning the email. It's a notice from the court, stating i registered a marriage... with some guy, apparently. The email included a registered marriage certificate with my name and... Rhett... Rhett something? The document looks legit, with a court seal and everything, it's dated to less than a month ago, but that's not even possible. It must be a joke, right? I was in Vegas during that time.....unless....ooh shittt, s**t s**t s**t. I got married in Vegas?
I got married in Vegas to a Rhett?
Who the f**k is Rhett?
HOW?
