Ohhh.
What a piece of garbage. It did seem strange, especially with the way she was dressed. I shake my head in disgust as we hop on the elevator.
“I’m never getting married, and it’s because of bitches like her.” I straighten, lungs tightening at the mention of the ‘m’ word. “She’s here to plan her damn wedding, not hook up with a stranger. Pouncing on you the moment she saw you, ugh.” She scoffs, clearly frustrated. I like that she’s torn up about it. Means shit like that bothers her as much as it does me. I loathe cheaters. Just stay single, you shitbags.
But wait…
“Youneverwant to get married?” I ask as we step onto our floor and make our way to the room.
“Never really interested me, ya know?”
Panic continues to rise. I thought it was because she was going to start talking about weddings and how she can’t wait to walk down the aisle.
Sweat prickles the back of my neck.
Don’t freak out. She doesn’t want to marry you right now. She doesn’t want to marry you ever, apparently.
She unlocks the door, goes inside, kicks off her heels, and unzips her skirt. Undressing in front of my very eyes. I want to take in her body, but I’m struggling to breathe. Where is this anxiety coming from? Is it because she mentioned marriage, and I was immediately thrust back in time when I was sickly in love and ring shopping on my phone? Or because she doesn’t want any of that shit? I should be stoked. She’s just like me. We’re two of a goddamn kind.
Puzzle pieces that align in every universe.
This is good news!
Relax. Be cool. She’s not asking for more. No pressure.
So why am I picturing her in a perfectly fitted white dress? Strolling down the aisle to her forever lover.Is that me at the end?
Damn, Penn. He got in my head with that proposal talk. Then made me sit down with him for hours and work on that song. I’d only had a few verses down and a vague idea, but he forced me to work through it until I got it out. He helped, suggesting lyrics and notes as I went. He wanted me to see the picture, and I did. And I’m looking at it right now.Shewas the picture. That’s why it felt natural to sing to her the other night. I tried not to be too obvious to my bandmates, but they’re not idiots.
I suspect Penn knew exactly who I had in mind when we were creating that song.
“Are you alright? You’re pale. Oh, shit, are you having a craving?” Ellie’s voice is soft, concerned.
I suck in a breath, shaking my head.Craving you, yes. “I just don’t think you should rule it out.”
She pulls a T-shirt over her head. Mother of Christ, it’s a Loose Threads shirt, one of our old ones, too. She got that way before we ever met.
“Rule what out? Marriage?” She tugs some jean shorts up her tanned legs, then grabs the leather boots by the bed and slides her feet into them.
“Yes, marriage. Don’t let one shrimp-dick pervert ruin your happiness, Ellie. Not everyone sucks.”
She throws her head back, laughing. “He totally had a shrimp dick.”
Tension eases its way out of my body.
A rumbling sound shakes the room, and her hands fly to her stomach. “Oh wow, that’s aggressive.”
My eyes bulge. “Jesus Christ, that was your stomach? I thought it was an earthquake.” She gives me a crooked smile,not embarrassed at all. “Shit, I’m sorry. Let’s go feed that monster.” I grab her and yank her out the door.
“Wait! You didn’t change.”
I drag her with me, lacing my fingers through hers. “No time. The monster in your stomach is pissed.” Seriously, that sounded like TripleKill’s death growl. This girl needs food.
“I can wait five seconds for you to change,” she huffs as I lead her down the stairs, not waiting for the elevator.
“No need.”
Once we make it out on the street, I glance both ways, searching for the closest restaurant. “There!” I point a few doors down to a pizza shop. The thing about feeding Ellie is, it’s easy. She’s not one of those girls who doesn’t like to eat in front of you. She will steal the shit right off your plate and look sexy while she does it.
