What Happens Here...Doesn't Always Stay Here

I guess that I got myself into the position all by myself. I mean, I didn’t have to agree to go to Las Vegas for spring break. When Jenna asked me to accompany her, Jill, and Samantha to “Sin City,” I could have decided that it would be in my best interest to decline the invitation, instead spending the seven days working at the hellhole I called a job, and working on my senior thesis. Instead, I argued with myself, deciding that it was senior year, and I should do something fun and without my parents for one spring break. These were three of my five best friends at college, and since the two others would be unavailable during spring break (one playing the flute at the conference tournament for basketball, and the other doing her student teaching), it was seriously the best offer. Besides, I reasoned to myself, I was never one of those girls who stereotypically got drunk, gambled all the time, nor made any unbelievably stupid decisions.

Of course, I managed to jinx myself on almost all accounts. Somehow, even when I was completely trashed (which I admittedly was four of six nights), I was still too tight to give up all my money in slot machines, playing black jack, or roulette. I was a college senior, and I didn’t make near enough money at the aforementioned hellhole to gamble it all away. The drinking and stupid decisions thing, though, was unfortunately about to become completely shattered.

“Wouldn’t it be funny,” I asked Lydia one day about a week before Jill, Jenna, Samantha, and I left,” if one of us gets completely drunk and married while we’re in Vegas?” Lydia gave me a disapproving look, and I knew that it was more because she was stuck teaching nine-year-olds while the rest of us would be in Vegas. “Admit it,” I laughed, lying back on the floor of her room, glancing up at the latest episode of Men in Trees.

“Okay,” Lydia caved. “It would be hilarious.”

“Only if one of the others got married—not me,” I amended thoughtfully. Lydia snorted at this. She was Jenna and Jill’s roommate, and she knew them very well. I did too, and I knew that neither of them were the type to get married on a whim.

“I don’t think that Jill or Jenna will get married, Seren,” she said with a slight giggle, affirming my belief. “I could see them getting completely drunk, but married? Surely not. I don’t know Samantha that well, but do you think that she would get married randomly? I can’t see it.”

“So are you saying that it’s most likely to be me?” I asked, sitting up abruptly. Lydia gave me a slight nod, looking rather abashed with herself. “I’m not getting married—unless it’s to him. Hello hottie on Men in Trees,” I said, glancing at the newest character.

“Thank God this is on after Grey’s Anatomy,” Lydia mused, staring at the hotness that had been identified as Cash on the show. “Otherwise we might have missed this fine specimen. But, seriously, what’s the chance that he’s going to be in Vegas when you are?”

“Good point,” I murmured thoughtfully. “Okay, Lydia, here’s the thing. I have a feeling that if I get trashed and find the need to marry the first man that I see, I’ll probably take the time to call you. So should I call you at three a.m.—“

“I’ll kill you,” Lydia interrupted.

“Think of it this way, three a.m. in Vegas is five a.m. here, and you wake up for school then anyway. Freak, by the way. Anyway, I have a feeling I’ll call you. I need you to stop being pissy that I just called you a freak and instead focus on the importance of this! I’m telling you how to talk me out of marrying the first guy I meet!”

“Okay, Seren, I’m listening. Go ahead,” Lydia said.

“All right. First, there are people that you shouldn’t talk me out of marrying,” I told her in all sincerity. She raised an eyebrow, and I smiled goofily. “If a Manning is there and wants to marry me—first make sure it’s Peyton or Eli—and don’t talk me out of it.”

“Isn’t Peyton already married?” Lydia questioned.

“Mere technicalities,” I told her dismissively. She snorted at that, muttering something about how only I would consider bigamy a technicality. “If it’s Tom Brady, even though he’s a Patriot, you can’t talk me out of it.” Lydia nodded, urging me to continue. “If it’s Justin Timberlake, I’ll kill you if you talk me out of it. Let’s see… are there any more sports/celebrities I should include? That’s good, I think. Now, if it’s James Pool you can’t talk me out of it either,” I stressed. James was one of the members of the University basketball team, and I had a sad but huge crush on him.

“Seren, isn’t the team at the conference tournament that week?” she asked in confusion.

“Another technicality,” I said, although I was really just hiding the fact that it had slipped my mind. Lydia had seriously never cared about the basketball team before, but now that she was practically my best friend, she had to have at least a passing acquaintance with the team and their schedule.

“What about Taylor Kitsch?” Lydia questioned, bringing up the man I had recently christened the “hottest male TV star,” although admittedly it was before I had seen Cash on Men in Trees.

“Yeah, that’s a bad idea. Because once I sober up, I will kill you,” I mentioned casually. She laughed at me, but then nodded. “And if I get married and you don’t talk me out of it, you are coming with me and my husband across the damn river, and telling my mom with me.” Lydia nodded, knowing I was being serious about that. My mom would freak out. We never talked about boyfriends, and I had only had a couple of casual boyfriends in passing. She would die.

“How long does it take to get an annulment in Vegas?” Lydia queried, curiously. I grinned.

“Fifty-two hours, according to Britney Spears!” I quipped, and the two of us busted into the laughter that had threatened to take over the entire conversation. The laughter was justified. While I was, of course, the most likely of the four of us going to Vegas to get married, it was a ridiculously crazy idea since I wouldn’t do that in a million years.

Of course, when Jill and Jenna heard our laughter, they investigated what was going on, and immediately made it their goal to get me married. We laughed, continuing making plans for the nest week.

When we got to Vegas, Samantha, Jill, Jenna, and I had a good time. We really didn’t have any big plans. We explored, went to all the tourist sites, and even made a trip to the Grand Canyon. We did make it a point to get drunk every night (the alcohol was flowing freely and cheaply at the casinos, and we’d gamble enough to get drunk), but nothing too insane happened until night four of six. That was the day we went to the Grand Canyon, and we hadn’t drank the night before because we had to get on a bus at six a.m. for the ride out.

That night, after sleeping the entire drive back, and missing out on some of the informative speeches and tour sites, we got off, napped again, then got ready for a night out at the clubs. We were at one club, and I have to admit, all four of us were completely trashed.

“Hey,” a voice said. Jill and Jenna were off doing God-knows-what, and Samantha was talking to some random girl at the bar. I turned to face the voice, and found myself looking at a tall man with dark brown hair and sparkling brown eyes. He didn’t seem too intoxicated, but then again, I was so drunk that I didn’t know.

“Hi!” I exclaimed, grinning up at him. He smiled down at me, sticking his hand out to shake, introducing himself as Devon Anderson. “I’m Serendipity Williams, but call me Seren.”

“I’m surprised you can say your full name,” he laughed richly. I laughed, tossing my head back and focusing on his eyes. “Want to dance?” I think it was during the dance that I realized that he might be just a drunk as I was. We were dancing closely, probably pretty sexually, on the dance floor, but at the same time, we’d both stumble into other people and the like.

“Hey, you know what,” he announced as he led me to a table in the back. I raised an inquiring eyebrow, and he laughed, touching the eyebrow and pushing it down, then pushing a strand of dark hair behind my ear. “I love you, Ser-Seren-Serendi-Seren,” he said. I giggled, then nodded.

“I love you too, Devon. Can I call you Dev?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. He nodded emphatically, then leaned forward.

“Let’s go… get married!” he suggested. For some reason, that phrase rang bells in the back of my mind, but instead I just nodded.

“Let’s get Elvis to marry us!” I said.

“Yeah!” He and I stumbled from the club and down to one of the chapels, talking about what we wanted our wedding to be like.

“I want… can we have… um, music. Yeah, I mean… I like Justin Timberlake. Can we hear Justin music? Or ‘N Sync? I just discovered how wonderful they are again,” I whispered to him. He frowned at me.

“But, I wanted Panic! At the Disco!” he whined. I started jumping up and down, holding on to his arm.

“I love Panic! But first I want Justin. Then we can do Panic! Please?” I begged, looking at him innocently. He nodded then, and I grinned, pulling out my cell phone and quickly sending out a text message, saying that I was visiting Elvis and sending it to all of my friends.

After Elvis married us to the wonderful melody of “Bye Bye Bye” and we walked out to “Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off,” the two of us stumbled back to Devon’s hotel, where we promptly fell asleep, thankfully doing nothing else.

The next morning my cell phone rang, playing some random song that I had on my phone, and I reached for it blindly.

“Hello?” I questioned groggily, clutching my hand.

“Um, Seren, why do I have a text message saying that you were visiting Elvis?” questioned one of the people with whom I worked. I gasped, glancing down at my left and seeing a plain gold band. I swore quietly.

“Alexis, you really don’t want to know,” I muttered, turning over to glance at my husband. He was sleeping soundly, and luckily, he was quite attractive. I guess I didn’t just drink him cute, but he definitely didn’t fit the prerequisites of being any of the famous men I mentioned, nor was he James Pool. “Fuck,” I swore beneath my breath.

“Seren, did you get married?” Alexis demanded. I groaned aloud, then responded with an affirmative answer.

“Look, I have to go and try to fix this,” I told her. Alexis agreed, and we both hung up, and I woke up my husband. He sat up, rubbing his head, and glancing over me.

“Who are you?”

“Serendipity Williams—or should I say Anderson?” I questioned. Devon groaned aloud, apparently remembering what happened the night before.

“Fuck,” he swore.

“I am in agreement with that artfully expressed thought,” I said, glancing at the clock on my phone. Why hadn’t Jenna, Jill, or Samantha called? I mean, they didn’t really want me to get married, surely. Plus they would be worried when I didn’t return to the hotel. I noticed about that time that I had three voicemails (apparently I had managed to ignore several rings) and eighteen new text messages.

“What are we going to do?” he moaned as I read through my text messages, most of which simply read WTF?? I glanced up at him.

“Britney Spears got an annulment in about fifty-two hours,” I told him dully.

“My mom has been pressuring me to get married,” Devon mused thoughtfully. I glared at him.

“I’m sure that she meant for you to go to Vegas and manage to marry the first drunk girl that agreed to that,” I muttered. He glanced sharply at me.

“I wouldn’t have married any drunk girl last night. You’re gorgeous and funny, and I liked that. Besides, I’m just saying, this would help out. Why, you don’t want to stay married?”

“Newsflash, Devon, I don’t fucking know you! Plus I’m in college, and am heading back to said college tomorrow. Added on to this, my parents will kill me. Unless you plan to get on that plane, fly back with me, explain what happened to my parents, and deal with this shit,” I told him.

“Why not? What’s the worse that could happen?”

“Let’s see… I fail out my senior year, you get killed, I get killed, any of these seem bad? Fuck, I need to check my voicemail,” I muttered, calling to get three messages from my three friends in Vegas. He glared at me while I listened to them angrily rant at me for not answering my phone.

“Please?” he asked as I hung up. I sighed heavily. “Look, I’m one of these kids who are expected to get married in my earlier to mid-twenties, and I’m already twenty-six. My parents owned this huge business, and Mom has been trying to get me to marry and produce children.”

“And I care because?” I questioned. He frowned at me. “Look, what is in it for me? Devon, I barely know you. I know that we both like Panic! At the Disco, but other than that, it’s nothing. We don’t know anything about each other.”

“We can work that out. I may know nothing about you, but we can learn! Please, please! We can make some story up to my mom, and I’ll stay with you while you finish up school, and then you can move with me back home.”

“Why do I have to move? I like where I live, Devon. My mom and I are really close, and I don’t want to move out. Plus, it will be so hard to explain to them that I got drunk and married,” I seethed.

“Oh, and hiding an annulment will be so much easier? Plus, didn’t you say that you were flying back home tomorrow? It took even took Britney—at the height of her career—fifty-two hours to be annulled, right? So, I don’t think that we’ll get it any quicker,” he said. I rubbed my head tiredly, glancing at him.

“If I do this—and that is an incredibly huge if, by the way—what’s in it for me? Because, honestly Devon, I don’t know you and I’m not the type to be kind and sweet to a strange man that I don’t know for nothing. There damn well better be something in it for me.” He smirked at me.

“Okay, well… I am well off. What were your plans after you graduated college?”

“I was going to go to grad school, get my Ph.D., and teach,” I muttered. He sighed, running a hand through that glorious hair of his.

“I’m rich, Seren. I’d pay for any grad school reasonably nearby that would accept you. You wouldn’t have to work for anything, plus housing, health insurance, and that kind of stuff would be covered. I would of course care for you and provide anything you should need. After getting your Ph.D., I would arrange for you to get a house elsewhere. All I ask is that you stay married to me until at least you get your Ph.D.,” he said uneasily.

“That’s it?” I asked suspiciously, training my eyes on his nervous figure. He was sitting in the bed, the sheet bunched around his waist, and sadly enough, my eyes kept wandering down to the broad expanse of chest that was open to my questing gaze. Hmm… he had a fairly smooth chest that was only hairy beneath his belly button, and he definitely had a six pack. I could do worse, I suppose.

“There is something else,” he said hesitantly. My eyes snapped back to his quickly, and I ran a hand through my disheveled brownish-blonde hair, awaiting his demand.

“Are you ever going to tell me?” I asked, while he was still hesitating.

“I mentioned my mom wanted grandchildren right?” he asked.

“No fucking way,” I told him, glaring harshly. He winced, probably not only because he thought I was thinking about killing him (smart boy, I was), but also because I had raised my voice and I knew that he had a hangover. Thank God extreme alcohol consumption only gives me a stomachache.

“Look, Seren, I’m not saying now. I’m not even saying soon. I’m just saying sometime in the like five years that we’d be married you either have a baby or we adopt,” he said. I glared at him.

“Are your parents still together?” I demanded. He nodded, and I sighed. “Look, being a kid when your parents are divorced sucks. My dad hates me. Now, I’m not saying that you’d be a bad dad who would do that, and I’m not saying that I’d do that, but I don’t think that it would be right to adopt or have a child knowing that we would be planning to divorce.”

“Well, we can just plan on me gaining full custody after the divorce. That way, you wouldn’t have to worry about it.” I swear, my jaw dropped when he finished that statement.

“Are you mad?” I yelled. “Mad as in crazy, by the way,” I amended. “One, there is no way that I could even think about having a child then relinquishing said child to you and not being part of his or her life. Second, that still would involve problems for the kid, wondering why his or her mother didn’t want him or her. I’m not doing that to any potential offspring I have,” I told him.

“Okay, okay,” he sighed. “We don’t have to worry about the kid thing right now. We can think about it—if you feel like you could endure the charade marriage, or if it turns into something more. Why are you excluding that option, Seren?”

“Why am I excluding the option of falling madly in love with you?” I questioned him softly. He nodded, and I sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in love, and I don’t think that this is how anyone would have envisioned falling in love,” I told him.

“I’ve never been in love either,” he told me. “But I meant what I said earlier—you are beautiful, and seem funny. I don’t know you well, but I think we could fall in love. You seem educated, and you thirst for knowledge. Plus, I think that we could hold conversations, and things would work out well,” he said. I sighed heavily, biting my lip and resting back on the bed.

“Give me a few minutes to think about it. I’m going to call my friends and let them know what happened, okay?” I said. He nodded, telling me he was going to take a shower. I waited until I heard the water start, before grabbing my cell phone and calling Jenna.

“Where are you?” she demanded when she answered.

“Damn, I actually don’t know,” I admitted quietly. “I got married, and my husband is showering.”

“You WHAT? Serendipity, tell me you are lying to me.”

“I wish I could. And the sad thing is… I might not be annulling it,” I whispered. Jenna started asking even more questions, and I started answering all of her concerns and telling her about our conversation. After about ten minutes, I heard the shower shutting off, and told her that I would meet them all at five for dinner (it was already 12:30, and I had a feeling that Devon and I would have quite a few things to discuss that afternoon). When he came out of the bathroom, he had a towel wrapped around his waist, and I decided that I definitely could have chosen far worst people to marry. Wet, water droplets running down that chest, and when he turned to the closet, I noticed that he had a tattoo on his shoulder blade. All in all, it was a yummy picture.

“Do you need to take a shower?” Devon offered, turning to face me. I raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’d love to, Dev, but I haven’t got any clothing,” I reminded him. He bit his lip.

“There is a robe, and a women’s clothing store downstairs. I can call and have them send up something for you. What size are you?”

“Ten,” I replied softly. He nodded. “Can you order some toast or something for breakfast from room service? Or a grilled cheese sandwich or something? With Sprite? I have a stomachache, and I’d really appreciate it.” He nodded once more, and I headed to the shower.

I took a long, leisurely shower. Damn, this guy must be rich because he had a huge bathroom with a whirlpool, a huge shower, vanities, and the works. It was gorgeous and decked out in marble. His bedroom was large, but it didn’t really seem that impressive—there was a great view of the city from the window, and the bed was huge, but really… anything else? I finally thought back to the previous night… and stumbling through the living room. Of course, he had a suite. I sighed and turned my mind to the matter at hand. What to do about him and the marriage? By the time I was finished with the shower, I had made my decision.

When I walked out into the bedroom, I found a cute jean skirt and tank top which was obviously for me. I put both items of clothing on, and still towel-drying my hair, moved into the living room area. Devon was seated at a small table, drinking coffee and eating some biscuits and toasts. I joined him, eating a small amount in silence.

“I’ll do it,” I finally said, breaking the silence. Devon glanced up at me, clearly in surprise, then nodded.

“I appreciate it,” he said sincerely.

“Look, here’s the thing,” I said, “you’re going to have to come back with me. We’re leaving tomorrow afternoon. And you have to help me tell my parents. And we’re going to have to learn about each other,” I said. I was getting myself into a panic, and surprisingly, Devon noticed. He placed his hand on my reassuringly, and told me that everything would be okay.

“All right, we’ll have to get you an engagement ring. There are plenty of fantastic jewelry stores around, but I figure we can just head over to Caesar’s Palace—they have a Harry Winston. Plus, maybe nicer wedding bands—I can’t imagine picking this out, even while drunk,” he mentioned casually. I nodded, running a hand through my hair nervously. “I also asked for a toothbrush and I figure you can use my hair brush?” he offered. I nodded, biting my lip.

“Hey, random question?” I said. He glanced up at me, curiously. “This sounds hideous. But, Jenna’s birthday was this week, and she really wanted to go to Chippendales, and the rest of us kinda did. Since it was her birthday and I ended up married without a bachelorette party, would you get us tickets?” I hesitantly asked. He started laughing, then nodded.

“Of course. I’ll go downstairs and book it, then we’ll head over to Caesar’s, and discuss things. Have you spoken with your friends?”

“Briefly. They know about the getting married, but not the staying married. They knew it was an option, and they didn’t agree. Jenna said we were doing dinner at five, so I need to be ready by then,” I said. He nodded.

“I’ll treat you all at the Rio for dinner before the show, and I’ll look around for things for you while you’re enjoying the show. Afterwards, I’ll be happy to go out with you all. What time is your flight tomorrow?”

“It’s at 1:30,” I said casually. He nodded, grasping my hand again, bringing it to his lips to kiss it softly.

“I appreciate this, Seren. I know that it wasn’t exactly what you had envisioned, but I’ll help you in any way I can. This can possibly even work,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. I bit my lip, and he smiled at me. “Go ahead and call your friends, and I’ll get you all tickets,” he said. I nodded as he left.

I made phone call to my friends, answering questions and informing them about tonight’s plans. Everyone was intrigued by the idea, as they should have been. They had been dying to go to Chippendales and Jenna had been mentioning it all the time. They agreed to meet us at his hotel (he was staying at the Paris, I had discovered) around fifteen til five, and we hung up. I relayed the information to him when he arrived, holding tickets out to me.

“Awesome,” he said. “Now, come on. Let’s go get you an engagement ring or something like that.” I smiled shakily at him, and asked that we stop by Harrah’s, where Jenna, Jill, Samantha, and I were staying first. He questioned why, and I told him that I did still need undergarments (I had put my others back on after the shower and felt indescribably nasty—thank God the Paris was only a few hotels away from Harrah’s). We quickly went over to our hotel, and thankfully the girls were out. I may have told them everything, but I really wasn’t in the mood to run into them just yet. After that, we made the trek across the street and down a few hotel/casinos to go into Caesar’s Palace, the entire time asking each other simple questions.

“What’s your favorite color?” he asked me as we entered.

“Pink,” I replied with a grin. His face contorted in disgust, and I giggled. “You?”

“Yellow, actually,” he said. I raised an eyebrow as he guided me through the shops and into the Harry Winston. No one immediately rushed over to help us—the fact that Devon was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt with the name of some band I had never heard of scribbled on it probably made the people think that we couldn’t be serious.

“What cuts do you like?” he questioned softly. I bit my lip. God, it all seemed much more real now.

“Um, I’m a fan of princess cuts,” I mumbled. He looked down at me and smirked.

“Do you have a princess complex? Only child, spoiled brat, favorite color is pink?” I stuck my tongue out playfully at him, and he chuckled softly. “Okay, princess cuts,” he mumbled aloud. Finally, an older man approached him.

“May I help you?” he asked stiffly. I linked my arm through Devon’s as he started explaining to the man what kind of ring we were looking for. Apparently, it was also supposed to be platinum. Wow. And I heard him mention at least one carat? Holy crap… the ring was going to be worth more than anything else I owned combined! Wait…my car might be worth more than the ring…

“Seren, what do you think of this one?” he asked, holding up a gorgeous ring. I carefully inspected it—I think the diamond was bigger than a carat, but it wasn’t too huge. It had smaller diamonds around the center one, and had a thin band. I tried it on and it fit. Holding my hand out to look at it, I appraised it and decided it looked pretty good on my hand. I nodded, and Devon smiled. “We’ll take matching wedding bands too, please.”

The older man went off, mumbling under his breath about irresponsible children coming to Las Vegas and getting married without their parents, and how this was going to be a mistake, and how it would probably max out Devon’s credit card. I rolled my eyes at his murmuring, and Devon was stifling laughter.

“I don’t think he likes me,” Devon mumbled to me.

“Maybe we should ask for another associate so he doesn’t get the commission,” I whispered back. Devon really did laugh then, wrapping an arm casually around me and pulling me closer to his side.

“No, that would be distasteful,” he said. I pouted and he laughed. When the man returned, we quickly chose rings, paid for them, and then left. I was still wearing the engagement ring, and then we both slipped on the wedding bands.

“These do look a lot nicer,” I mused, staring at my hand.

“You should take it off for Chippendales—then you can tell them it’s your bachelorette party and you might get on stage,” Devon mentioned.

“As my husband, aren’t you supposed to be against that?” I questioned him, looking at him through dark blue eyes.

“Yes, but I realize that our marriage is hardly conventional. Plus, it’s not really anything big. You’ll be drooling over men dancing in sexual poses,” he said. I giggled at him.

“Hey, I know this is a bit late, but can we agree to be faithful to one another during this marriage? I don’t want to have the husband who cheats, nor do I want to cheat.”

“I was planning on it,” Devon said. “But thank you for bringing it up.” I ducked my head, blushing a bit, as he led us over to a small café, where we had a pastry and a coffee (okay, so I had a cappuccino, because I’m not a fan of real coffee). While sitting there, Devon and I tried to work out a story to tell our parents. I’d probably end up coming clean to my mom and maybe my stepfather, but Devon couldn’t.

“Why don’t we just say that we met on the internet, IMed for a while, and I told you that I was coming here for spring break, you decided to come as well, and then we decided to get married. Like, we can tell your parents that we were kind of dating, and then we were drinking, and it seemed like a good idea and we weren’t upset when we woke up,” I offered.

“How did we meet on the internet?” Devon asked. I bit my lip.

“Do you have facebook?” He shook his head. Damn—I lived on facebook. “What about myspace?” He nodded. “I’m not on there much, but you can have added me on there, and randomly have emailed me or something. Then we started talking on AIM. You do have AIM, right?” Again he nodded.

“Awesome. So we will have to add each other on myspace and everything, right? That’s cool,” he said. I nodded, and we started playing the get to know one another game again.

That night, we went and picked up my friends, after spending the day talking and shopping. He said that he wanted to get me some stuff since I was being forced into the marriage, but I told him he was stupid. He then admitted that that was only part of it, but he really felt that his parents would accept me more if I had more name-brand clothing and whatnot. I indulged him. It felt horrible though; I mean, I was married to him basically for money and status. I felt like a terrible person.

“Hey, Seren,” Jill said softly when she saw me. I smiled at her, and Samantha jumped into the limo that Devon had rented (I totally think he was showing off). Jenna got in more slowly, and appraised the limo.

“I’m Devon,” Devon introduced himself, shaking hands with all of my friends. The ride was slightly awkward. Everyone was staring awkwardly at the others, when my cell phone started ring. I reached for it, checking the id to see the name of Alexis. I answered the phone, and she immediately started asking me questions about how I resolved the marriage. Alexis is a great girl, already married with a kid. She was my age though, and I knew that she wouldn’t judge the whole “being married” thing except for maybe because I didn’t love him.

“I’m still married to him,” I told her softly, ad she immediately demanded answers. “Look, Lex, are you going to be at work this weekend?” When she answered that yes, it was her weekend to work, I promised to give her an update as soon as I saw her. When I hung up the phone, Devon was looking at me.

“You have a job?” he questioned.

“Surprisingly enough, yes. I have to make money somehow. This whole scholarship thing doesn’t cover food, gas, car insurance, or clothing, and my parents don’t have enough money to pay for it themselves,” I said. “I work at my high school job at a grocery store on the weekends and I tutor Spanish and German two nights a week at school.” Devon’s eyebrows rose.

“Quit the weekend job. It’s quite unnecessary. You are my wife, and I’ll take care of those things for you. Besides, should you not be focusing on your studies?” I sighed, running my fingers through my hair.

“I’d love to quit Foodway, but this whole, “you are my wife, my responsibility” shit is getting kind of old. It is the twenty-first century,” I mentioned casually. He gave me a dark look and I smiled at him.

“Really, Seren. We do have to spend time together, and I already told you that my parents have negative attitudes towards this sort of thing,” he said. I sighed again, but agreed. Honestly, I never thought I would argue with someone offering me a free out of Foodway (aka—the Hellhole), but still, it was the principle. I can totally work and do things for myself, damn it! Okay, enough with the feminist in me.

“Haven’t you hated that place for years?” Jill asked as I pouted in my seat.

“Yes,” I said. She laughed.

“Just embrace the whole not having to work thing,” she advised me. I nodded, and soon we were at the Rio hotel, going into some fancy seafood place. I had the Chippendale tickets in my purse, and we were all getting excited about the show. Over dinner, everyone was finally loosening up and talking to one another, and by the time dinner was over, I think Devon had almost completely won over my friends.

Before we entered for the show, he took off my wedding band, put it in his pocket, and grabbed my cell phone to put his number in. He handed me his and I obligingly put in my number. He told me to call him when we were done and we could go to the Voodoo Lounge, the famous bar in the Rio. I nodded and kissed him quickly on the cheek, before heading to the Chippendales with Jenna, Jill, and Samantha.

“He seems nice,” Jenna admitted as we sat down in the bar before the show. I ordered a drink (it cost ten dollars!) and turned to face her.

“He really does. And he’s going to help me through grad school. He’s nice. The only thing is, he’s from Boston, so we have to move up there.”

“Why?” Samantha questioned.

“His parents own some business, which he now owns and runs. He said that he could work from our town until I graduate, but after that, up north. Can you believe it? But there are some great schools there,” I said.

“That’s so weird. I mean, that you are married and everything. What are you going to do about school and your parents and everything?”

“Too difficult to explain,” I murmured, grinning as the men came out on stage. The show was absolutely wonderful—and had I been completely sober (those ten dollar drinks were strong and wonderful and I had three) I probably would have been so embarrassed that I would have died. Oh, and they did pull me on stage for one of the dances—that was hot. After the show, we took pictures with the guys and bought souvenirs before calling Devon and meeting him at the Voodoo lounge.

“Are you staying with them or at my place tonight?” he asked in my ear as we danced closely. I shrugged, looking at him through slightly hazy eyes. He sighed, leading me out of the bar and calling the others with my phone. “She’s kind of drunk again—do you all want to go back or not? And I think that I’m going to get her stuff and take her back to my room. We’ll meet you at the airport tomorrow.” The girls just nodded in agreement, told him that they were staying for a bit, and that we’d see them the next day.

I remember Devon taking me back, and packing all my stuff. The next morning, we got up, got ready, and managed to get Devon a flight back to Collinswood. My parents were from the town across the river, and my mom was planning on meeting me the day after we arrived back at the mall while my stepfather worked. I pointed out to Devon that this was lucky, because after a day of traveling, we were hardly going to want to make explanations.

When we arrived back in Collinswood, we immediately went back to UC’s apartment complexes and started unloading our things. When I had finished, I went with Devon across the hall to see Lydia. Apparently the girls had said nothing to her about the marriage, because when she saw me standing at the door with Devon slightly behind me, and her eyes dropped to my wedding band, she led us to the living room simply said, “Explain.” So I did.

“You were supposed to talk me out of it,” I reminded her. Devon shot me a slightly hurt look and I leaned against him on the couch, leaning my head on his chest. He rested his chin on the top of my head as we both stared at her.

“Well, one, you said you’d call, not text. Two, my phone broke, so I had no cell. Not my fault at all,” Lydia said with a grin. I smiled back softly. “Besides, you look pretty happy now.” I glanced at Devon; yeah, right now we were cool. Too bad I wasn’t sure if we would ever be in love.

“I’m beat, so we’re heading back across the hall. I’m ready to sleep.”

“Are any of your psycho-I-need-two-days-advance-warning-for-visitors-roommates here?” Lydia asked curiously. I rolled my eyes heavenward at the ridiculous disposition of my roommates. I was twenty-two! Why did I need their permission to have people over? Okay, not lying, now that I was married, I was really thinking about bringing Devon over and having loud sex with him. I appraised him, my lip bit in contemplation. “Hey, Seren, you there?”

“Sorry. No, Rhonda and Ariana aren’t there. I’m hatching a diabolical plot though,” I mentioned casually. Devon snorted at that, and Lydia got a slightly apprehensive look on her face.

“Oh, God… let’s see… waiting until they are there, and having loud sex with your husband?” Lydia asked sarcastically.

“You read my mind,” I said, smiling impishly at her. Devon’s eyes grew wide and he made a choking sound. “Don’t worry—they aren’t here now. We’ll just be sleeping tonight.” Lydia laughed at his expression, and I led him across the hall, where we shared my standard dorm-issued twin bed (which meant that we were much closer than the previous two nights—actually I was pressed against his warm, bare chest, and he had his arm wrapped around my waist).

The next day, we went to the mall around one to meet with my mother. She was quite surprised to see me with a man, and even more surprised to find that he was my husband. When she asked how it had happened, instead of telling or carefully planned story, I instead blurted out the facts. My mother looked incredibly disappointed and asked why we were staying together, and again I replied with the truth.

“But we could fall in love,” I told her defiantly. Devon’s mouth twitched upwards at that, but I ignored it.

“Honestly, Mrs. Smith, I’ll take care of Seren. Honestly, this is a good opportunity. She’ll be quitting her job and focusing on the end of her senior year, and I live in Boston. She can attend any number of good graduate schools in the area. I know that your daughter loves you dearly, and I’d like for you to become accustomed to this idea.”

“And how long would this marriage last?” Mom asked.

“At least five years,” I mumbled. Mom’s eyebrows shot up. “What? He’s great, Mom! And if I decide that I love him, we’ll stay married. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Plus, I can get my degree at a great school. It’s a wonderful opportunity.”

“Are you changing your name on your school records?”

“No. It’s rather silly, isn’t it? I’m only going to be there like eight more weeks, and we’ve already ordered graduation announcements and the like. It’ll be easier just to stay the same until after I’ve left, and then change my last name. Anyway, can we tell Kevin this story that Devon and I came up with? I hardly think that he would approve of the drunk marriage and the at least five years of marriage thing,” I mentioned. Kevin Smith was my stepfather, and he was extremely traditional and conservative. So, he would probably force an annulment or something. Mom looked doubtful for a moment, but then nodded her agreement. The rest of the day, she spent grilling Devon about his job and everything, and then she called Kevin and asked him that we meet at Cheeseburger and Paradise for dinner, where we would introduce him to Devon.

The meeting went off fairly well, and Kevin seemed to like Devon. Devon was funny, respectful, and had offered to pay for all of dinner. This surprised Kevin, who seemed to initially assume that Devon was so low-life who was just looking for a wife so he would get a place to stay. They even offered to let him stay at our house until he found an apartment for the next two months.

Devon also filled his parents in on the situation. They said that they would have preferred that we waited to get married until they could have a huge wedding and reception, but that it would be okay, because we could have another “wedding” to invite people and have the huge spectacle that would appease the parents. Devon and I reluctantly agreed, but only on the terms that it would be on our one-year wedding anniversary. We also planned a “honeymoon”/graduation trip to Europe for a month starting the week after I graduated from UC (on May 12, which thankfully was still two months away!).

When I returned to work the day after informing all of our parents and getting the plans for the trip settled, everyone was staring at me. The news about my marriage had traveled quickly—I love Alexis, but she has a big mouth. Everyone was asking me questions and whatnot, and when I went to my boss Malcolm to put in my resignation, he couldn’t believe it. Okay, so Malcolm hadn’t heard about my marriage as he was a bit removed from the gossip loop, but everyone else had. Malcolm was also extremely angry about me quitting the job I had had for six years, but I didn’t care. I was out, and all of the girls thought it was sweet that Devon was making me quit (I still say it was slightly weird, but it would help with the whole graduation thing).

So life continued. I was working hard trying to finish my honor’s paper and my senior thesis, as well as making up several presentations. Every Monday and Thursday nigh I tutored. Devon would come over at least twice a week, and I spent a lot of time at the apartment he had rented. Really, it seemed like our relationship was one of two close friends or perhaps boyfriend and girlfriend, but no one really got the impression that we were married.

My roommates hated him. I don’t know why. I think because they secretly hated me, so that hate got transferred to him by association. Either that or because we sat in the living room watching TV as I worked on my presentations. We actually liked some of the same TV shows… well, stations at least. We watched a lot of MTV, VH1, and ESPN. Once it was March Madness, every Thursday through Saturday night was spent in front of my 36-inch TV. That might have been what really did it to Rhonda and Ariana—we yelled at the TV too much.

As time passed, we got closer and closer. Soon graduation was looming ahead. I had heard back from all the grad schools I had applied too, but I actually hadn’t applied to any in the Boston area, so I declined every school that I was accepted by. I would be able to apply the next year, no problem. Devon told me that he could get me a job at the place at which he worked as a secretary for the next year if I insisted on working—which I did.

“The only time I won’t be working is when we have kids,” I told him. He got a strange gleam in his eye when I said that. I bit my lip uneasily, but he just smiled at me and kissed me quickly.

That summer, immediately after I graduated, we went to Italy—first Venice for a week, then over to Florence and Rome, before making our way up to Spain, and then England. We had to be selective. I was fine with going to California or something for our honeymoon/graduation trip. That apparently wasn’t enough for Devon.

I had a great time. Venice was gorgeous—the Doge’s Palace was amazing, as well as the Piazza di San Marco and the associated Basilica. We got lost so many times; none of the maps that we got were helpful to us. We made a trip out to Murano Island and bought all sorts of gorgeous glass decorations for our house, and I picked up some jewelry for my mother and myself. We also went on a gondola ride. Those always seemed like they would be really romantic, and it was really nice to sail through the canals and pass under the bridges, but the Grand Canal was so dirty and polluted. It didn’t help that I had heard that if you fell in (and the gondolas were not very stable when you were stepping into them) you had to be rushed to the hospital.

We enjoyed Florence, mainly for all the wonderful shopping that it had, as well as the Duomo. That place was gorgeous. After that we traveled to Rome, where we saw all sorts of awesome stuff. It was amazing. I had always been interested in ancient history, and seeing the forum and all these ruins interposed with the modern landscape of the city blew my mind.

When we went up to Spain, I was excited because I was able to talk fluently to everyone. I had been to Mexico to study abroad before, but the dialect was different. Devon wanted to go to a bullfight, but I absolutely refused. I honestly don’t see how that could be appealing to anyone. After a week there, we went up to England, where we saw plays, went shopping, and went to the Cadbury Factory. That was possibly the highlight of the trip.

I don’t know exactly when it was, but one day I was looking at him and I realized that I really was glad that awe had gotten married. It seemed like such a stupid mistake at the time, but I honestly wasn’t sure how I would have survived the last half of the semester without him. It had just been slightly over two months when I had the thought, and it scared me. When we got married, I was drunk. There was obvious physical attraction, but when he told me he loved me, and I returned the sentiment, there could have been nothing of truth in it. We were probably in lust and found qualities that we thought we could love, but we weren’t really in love.

These thoughts plagued me throughout the honeymoon, and two nights before we were flying back to the US, I looked at him from my spot on the bed. He was standing in front of the closet, folding all of the clothing that he had left, looking incredibly gorgeous in a pair of khaki pants and a light blue button down shirt that was unbuttoned.

“Dev?” I questioned meekly. He turned his gaze to me, murmuring a what. “What do you think about me?”

“What do you mean?” he asked laughingly, crossing to sit next to me on the bed. There was only one bed in the room, but we had been sharing a bed for a while by this time. It wasn’t that big of a deal to us. I sat up next to him, leaning into his chest.

“Like… how do you feel about me, I guess?”

“Um…” Devon was clearly stumbling for words, and I sighed softly to myself. I should have known that someone as wonderful as him would never have real feelings toward me. I felt my face fall slightly, and Devon looked down at me. “I think you are amazing,” he said honestly. I felt a smile peak out a bit. “You are gorgeous, and funny, and smart, and honestly… although I never thought that I would end up getting married in Vegas, I can’t force myself to be upset about it.

“Maybe when I first woke up, and you told me that your last name was now Anderson, I was apprehensive and scared, but after I got to know you, I couldn’t be upset. And now, having known you these past few months, I think you are even more amazing than I initially thought. I’m not in love with you yet, but I am falling for you,” he said honestly, looking into my eyes. I bit my lip, looking up at him.

“Dev… I was upset at first, but after the first day, I figured things would work out partially. I really cared about you, and I knew we could be friends. I mean, a friendship is better than nothing, right? But the longer I’ve been with you… the more I care about you. I don’t think I love you, but I definitely could and will,” I told him honestly.

He grinned down at me, leaning to capture my lips with his own. We had kissed several times, but none had been like this. He was kissing me passionately and deeply, conveying everything that he felt for me with that one kiss. I succumbed to him, and that night we fully expressed our feelings for one another… several times.

So Devon and I slowly but completely fell for one another. I don’t think that I ever thought that a drunken mistake could turn out so wonderfully.

A/N: Hey guys! This is loosely (very loosely) based on my spring break. None of us got married… but some of the activities were based on what we did. The conversation about getting married is almost taken verbatim from something I said to my friend. Now for the standard disclaimers: I do not own/am not affiliated with Chippendales, the Rio, Harrah’s, the Paris, the Voodoo Lounge, the Venetian, Harry Winston, Caesar’s Palace, Men in Trees, Grey’s Anatomy, Peyton or Eli Manning, Taylor Kitsch, Cash on Men in Trees, Justin Timberlake, Tom Brady, Panic! At the Disco, myspace, facebook, or AIM (although I am members of all), VH1, ESPN, MTV, or the NCAA tournament. There may be more stuff in there… but that’s all I can really remember. As well as I know, Collinswood and UC is made up.

I think the ending is semi-vague and open, to allow another story should I feel the need to write it. Hope you enjoyed and please review!

To any of you who read Era La Musica or No Strings Attached, neither have been abandoned, but it’s crunch time at school. Please be patient! As always, thanks to my awesome beta Kelly and my friend Lauren who gave me some feedback on a really early version of this story. Please read and review!