Hey, I know that some of you are saying that this story sounds familiar to other stories. But I guarantee that this story is 100 percent mine. I wrote this story over four years ago for Justin Timberlake. Now of course over the years the story has been revised over and over again. But I want to let you know that this story is definitely mine. Here is the proof:
This is another story, I just wanted to try out. I hope you all enjoy. Please R&R.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
My eyes flutter as I finally awaken from my slumber. Sitting up, I look around the room, and realize, where the hell am I? Looking down I also realize that I am not wearing any clothing. What the hell happened here? I seriously don’t remember coming here. Gosh, I have such a fucking headache. How much did have to drink last night?
Turning and looking down to my right, I see a masculine arm. Oh no!
I cringe slightly, and as I quickly and silently roll the plush comforter down my body, I slowly get out of the bed. Wobbly, I try and grab every piece of clothing I owned, which had been strewn across the entire room. And I quickly, but quietly tip toe towards the door. I definitely did not want to disturb who ever it is that was still asleep. Turning the knob slowly, I opened the door, and hastily walked out. I closed the door without making a sound.
As quick as I can, I try to throw on every piece of clothing that I had picked up, while rushing towards the elevator, nearly tripping over my own feet. Pressing the down button, I nervously waited for the elevator, running my fingers through my hair, trying to make it look like I hadn‘t just walked out of a strangers room. As soon as the bell dings, and doors slide open, I quickly walk in. But before I get two feet into the elevator, a man, who is staring at me, walks out. He didn’t think I could hear, as he muttered a damn, as he brushes past me. I just shake my head and press the button to close the door.
I have to get the hell out of here.
I wake up the sound of loud, excessive banging on my door. What the fuck? Sitting up, I stretch my limbs and look down. Why don’t I have any clothes on? What the fuck happened last night? And why does my head feel like somebody socked me with a sack of nickels?
Standing up from the bed, I quickly search for my boxers. I then find them thrown up against the lamp post, next to the bed. Seriously, what the hell happened last night?
“Alright, damn! Hold your fucking horses, I’m coming.” I rush to the door, as the banging grows louder. “Who is it?”
“Who do you think it is?” The person on the other side yells. I know that voice. It can’t be no one other than my best friend, Sam. Swinging open the door, and there he was standing. “Dude, you look like shit.” Is the first thing he tells me, walking into the room.
“Thanks.” I sarcastically say.
I really don’t have time for his shit today. I feel like I’m the walking dead.
“Damn, what the fuck happened in here?” He asks looking at the complete mess in my hotel room. He turns to look at me with a questionable stare. “What did you do when I left?” He says picking up an empty bottle of champagne, turning it over.
I have no fucking clue. Did I drink that entire bottle myself?
I pick up my jeans, that were also strewn some where across room, and begin to slip them on. “Man, I honestly don’t know.” I sigh, sitting down on my disheveled bed.
“You don’t remember?” He says now looking at me very strangely.
“Did I stutter?” I reiterate, causing him to roll his eyes at me. “The last thing I remember was arguing with Jenna on the phone, and then going down to the bar for a couple of drinks.”
Sam walks towards me, and takes a seat next to me on the bed. “A couple? What do you mean by a couple?”
I shrug my shoulders. How the fuck should I know? Didn’t I say I don’t remember?
“Dude! You so got fucking wasted last night.” He points out what I already knew.
“No shit Sherlock.” I spit at him, rubbing my hands through my hair.
“Did you hook up with someone?” He asks me.
I look back up him. “No!” Did I?
“Yes, you did.” He stands to his feet. “That would so explain why this room look like a fucking tornado hit full blow. And why it took you so long to answer the door. And it would also explain that fine ass woman that I just passed in the hallway, with the wrinkled clothes and the jacked up hair.”
I quickly look back up at him. “Woman? What woman?”
“When I was coming out of the elevator, she was getting on. She also looked like she had one too many herself.” He says sitting down next to me again.
I place head back in my hands. “No, no, no, no.” I mumble to myself. Jenna is going to kill me if she finds out.
“You totally hooked up, dude. Jenna is going to murder you.” Again, he points out something I already know. “If she ever found out about this, she would shit bricks.” He chuckles to himself.
I don’t find shit funny over here.
“And she’s not going to find out.” I turn over to him. “This…whatever this is…stays between us. You got it?” I say in a threatening tone.
I swear he better not say a word of this to anyone, or I will pummel his fucking ass into the ground.
“Of course. You know what they say: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. I’ve got your back.” He pats my back, and then leans over. “Now get up, and get in the shower. Dude, you stink.”
I shake my head at my best friend, before getting up and retreating to the bathroom, for my shower.
Opening the door to my apartment, I quietly walk in. I silently close the door behind me, and as quick as I can, try to creep up the stairs. I didn’t want to wake my roommate. I really didn’t want to deal with her this morning.
“Well, well, well, Angel of the morning.”
I completely jump out of my skin, as I turn my direction over to the entrance of the kitchen. Apparently, I was not quick enough. There she stands, coffee in hand, and questions now dancing in her light mocha hued eyes, is my best friend and roommate, Brooke Simpson. She is dressed in her favorite pair of grey and pink, Victoria’s Secret sweats, and a clean, white tank top. Her long, dark tresses are pulled into a neat mid-high ponytail.
“Damn, Brooke, you scared the shit out of me.” I practically scream at her, placing my hand over my now racing heart.
“You look like hell.” She completely ignores me, and insults me at the same time. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing, I…” I try to say, but she cuts me off.
“Who is he, and is he cute?” She asks, and I let out a deep sigh. “Ooh, it was one of those nights.” She says, knowing exactly what happened last night. Walking over to me, she links her arm in mines. “Come on, girlie, let’s get you some coffee, so we can talk about it.”
Do we really have to?
We walk into our tiny kitchen. I sit down at the dining table, while she places her mug down on her side. She then walks over to the cabinet, grabs another mug, and begins to prepare my coffee just the way I like it. Cream, three sugars.
She hands me my mug, and takes her seat in front of me. “So…spill it best friend.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Uh, Brooke…well there’s not much to spill.” I say taking a sip of my coffee. And that’s the truth. I wish I knew what happened myself.
“Come on, Jay, you walk in the house at,” she turns to look at the clock on the microwave, “seven-thirty in the morning. After you’ve spent the entire night out. And not to mention that Ryker just dropped you like a bad habit…” she rambles not noticing that she just kicked me in the goodies.
I sigh. “Brooke!” She knows that the subject of him, is off limits.
I guess she realizes what she just said, because she looks at me with sympathy in her eyes. “Sorry, that just slipped out.” She puts her hands up defensively.
I place my coffee mug down on the table. “You know what? I’m just going to go upstairs, take a shower, and get some sleep. I have to work the night shift at the casino tonight.”
“Jackie, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.” She apologizes once again.
I stand to my feet. “No, it’s fine.” I wave her off.
I just really don’t want to talk anyway.
She stands up behind me. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” I look at her. What is she talking about?
“That…” she points to my left hand. “That’s an interesting ring. I’ve never seen it before. Is it new?”
What ring? What is she talking about? I don’t have a ring on my left hand.
I look down at my hand. Where did that come from? I don’t remember putting that… “Oh, my God.” I say out loud. I seriously hope this isn’t what I think it is. “Oh, my God.” I repeat.
I guess Brooke puts two and two together, because she quickly rushes to my side. “Oh, My God, you didn’t?!” She squeaks, grabbing my hand to examine the ring closely. She then looks back up at me, and gasps. “You did. Oh, my God, Jackie. You totally got married last night.”
After I finish my shower, I walk out of the bathroom. I notice Sam standing next to the bed, reading a piece of paper.
“Sammy J, reading? Let me get my camera. This is definitely a Kodak moment.” I say chuckling at my own joke.
He turns to look at me. “Ha, ha. Very funny, dick.” He smirks at me. “You won’t be laughing so much when you read this.” He holds the paper towards me.
“What’s that?” I ask slipping on my black polo.
“According to this lovely document that I hold in my hand,” he waves the paper in the air, “you got a little more than laid last night, my friend.” He says smirking. What the hell is talking about? “This,” he waves the paper again, “is a marriage license.”
Excuse me?! What the fuck did he just say? “What did you just say?” I ask Sam. I really need to have my ears cleaned. Because it sounds like that my best friend just told me that I had gotten married. He’s joking. He’s got to be joking. “You’re funny, Sam. I wish you would quit joking.” I let out a nervous chuckle. He is joking right?
But he wasn’t laughing at all. “I wish this was a joke, dude.” He walks over to me, and hands me the paper.
And there it is. In black and white. This is a marriage license. And written on it was definitely my full name and signature, along with a woman who’s name is Jacqueline Marie Smith. But this…this can’t be real. “This can’t be real, Sam. And if it were real, then where is my ring?” I lift my left hand to show that was no ring there.
“What’s this?” Sam says picking up the cheapest, tackiest gold band I‘ve ever seen, that lay on the side of my nightstand. That looks like a wedding ring to me. "Looks like Hollywood's Most Eligible Bachelor is now officially off the market."
-Ok, so what do you think? Good? Bad? Needs work? Please, I want to know. Thanks so much!
LOTS OF LOVE,