Her toxic trait? She could have her heart ripped out of her own flesh, sliced up and shoved down her throat - but she'd still be there for you if you needed her.
And him? He runs away from your loving when it gets too deep, scared to love you back c...
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Friday 15th December, 3:42 PM
Saint Nicholas Cathedral, Central London
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" . .Do you take this woman, Samira Khan, to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold her from this day forward. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?" The vicar asked, with a fat grin spread across his face.
This was it.
The day I had wished for.
His eyes bored through mine. Without him having to say so much as a word, I could tell what would come next. The look on his face told it all. Corner of his lips tugging at a shy smile, he proudly spluttered, "Man does, init."
My eyes widened. Man does? On this day of all days, he felt the need to talk like this. Probably reading the annoyed expression on my face, he corrected himself by saying, "I mean - I do."
A chorus of get in there's and man like's soon followed. The walls around us shook, and trembled in nothing but triumph. Feet behind me stomped, before the noisemakers proceeded to chanting, "Brap brap! My nigga that!"
Our vicar shook his head, the words falling from their mouths had him struggling not to laugh. "You have kissed a thousand times, maybe more?" We both glance up at one another. "But today the feeling is new. You're no longer just partners and best friends. Today, you have become husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride!"
"My pleasure." He slowly grabbed the veil away from my face, that lopsided smile still smeared on his face. Watching him do this before me, caused a tear threaten to fall. My vision blurred; everything around me became nothing but a flurry of different colors.
I was officially a married woman? Wow. At times like these, milestones like these - that you will never see again - do I wish I had family to support me. My mother, nor my father got the chance to have me come home, and open my GCSE'S before them.
It wasn't them, who saw me strut the auditorium on the day I graduated university with a degree in Criminology. No, that was my brother. It was he, whom retrieved the old me that I thought I'd lost, and would never see again when I suffered my first heartbreak.
"Ay, what you waiting for, bro? Kiss her!" Someone chirped up, awaking me from one of my many daydreaming sessions.
Following order, he slowly snaked his tongue across his sexy, succulent bottom lip, causing me to giggle as though I were a little school girl. He leaned closer, and our lips connected naturally. Just like puzzle pieces fitting together. Tongues battling for reign, I smiled against him. Years of hard work really did pay off, holding him down when everyone told me not to - and accidentally - on purpose - moving mad whenever he slipped up, came with it's worthwhile reward in the end.
I didn't find love.
And you shouldn't find love either. Let love find you. That's why it's called falling in love - because you don't force yourself to fall, you just fall.
We were now in the bathroom. Four walls, two people. Just him and me. Both of us stood before the full body length mirror in absolute awe. It was a battle to do so, but I steadily stayed in possession of self-control, meaning I had been successful in making it as a virgin at the age of 23. Being a virgin in this day and age is something to be proud of. It's just like being that diamond in the dirt.
See, my virginity means a whole lot to me. I may joke around about having sex, but when push comes to shove? I feel all panicky. Before, the thought of doing so much as removing my clothing infront of him had me shitting bricks - but that was then, and this is now. Closing my eyes, I just wished he wouldn't have any second thoughts about me as soon as I fluttered from the feeling of his cold hands racing down my back, undoing my dress button by button.
In a matter of seconds, did my dress fall to the floor. I then looked down in, I don't know, conflict perhaps? And what I saw startled me. Calvin Klein boxers. That bright red Burberry bow tie. This, this was the moment I had been waiting for since I crossed paths with him on the bus that night. Marriage sex. So, smiling . . I stepped to the side and lifted up one leg, kicking off my knickers like it was nobody's business.
"Rah. ." He gleamed after bringing one hand to his face in shock. "Just rah. Samira, man - is that you yeah?"
"Nah," I laughed with a slight shake of my head as I playfully shoved him in the shoulder. "It ain't me at all. It's the Ghost Of Christmas Past."
"I should smack you." He kissed his teeth.
"But you won't." I responded, shrugging my shoulders nonchalantly. "You know you love me, so where do we really go from here?"
"To the room." I heard him mutter. Before I could answer back, he had one hand pressed firmly against my mouth. Picking me up bridal style - against my will - we sauntered out of the steamy bathroom.
He flung me on the bed.
"Jesus take the wheel." I whispered, almost capable of hearing my heart hammering erratically underneath my chest. My nipples hardened, I'm unsure whether it was due to the cold, or simply viewing him from this angle - but either way, I gulped.
"Me ago' teach you a lesson . ." He told me, smirking that devilish smirk of his . .
A U T H O R S N O T E
Thanks for reading!
Just comment you lot. I wanna know how you're feeling. What was your favorite part of this one?
I'm still torn on the name. I have chapter 3 there, but I can't post until I pick. So comment one last time which one you want. Slim, or Menace?
SPOILER
Whatever you think will happen in this story, will not.
Hehe, you might get a cheeky update tonight. . If you smash 4+ votes and 20+ comments
