What happens in Vegas

22| Husband

Chapter 22: Husband (Bella's POV)

My head was pounding. Even in my sleep. I stirred awake from the discomfort, my head throbbing in pain. I groaned, rubbing my eyes while slowly waking up. 

The first thing I noticed was Noah sleeping beside me in nothing but sweats, then I noticed that my clothes had been changed too. I was now in one of his shirts and that was about it. Just underwear beyond that. When I rubbed my eyes and touched my face, I could feel my skin bare. All the makeup wiped and stripped off. 

I sighed slowly sitting up. I ran my hands over my face and froze. 

What the hell is that? 

I am freaking out. I am most certainly freaking out. For many reasons. 

a) Noah saw me naked. 

b) He's naked. 

And c) There is a fucking wedding ring on my finger. 

My jaw fell open at the faint memory of a chapel replaying in my mind. I resisted a scream and leaned over him, looking at his left hand. 

Oh, my god. No, no, no, no, no! He has one on too. 

Did we get married? Do I have a husband? NO! He's my- almost boyfriend? I looked at the ring that said something else. It said: He's my husband. I put a hand on his shoulder and started shaking him gently. "Noah," I whispered. 

He groaned, rubbing his eyes open before looking at me. "What happened?" he mumbled. He looked at me and then sighed, "Yes, I changed you. Yes, I saw you naked. Yes, I liked you even more," he chuckled. 

"Noah," I said warningly. 

He looked at me and I held my hand up. "Oh. Yes, we got married." 

"No." 

"Yes. Like, really got married." 

"No," I whispered. 

"Hmm," he nodded. 

"How the fuck are you not freaking out?" I smacked him. 

"Jesus, relax. We got a divorce then and there." 

"What?" I gaped at him. 

"Bella, I'm messing with you. You already paid for the rings, we just put them on each other. I took you out of there before you actually listened to the priest and went through with the vows." 

I let out a sigh of relief, my shoulders deflating. Now for the other thing. "You changed me?" I narrowed my eyes at him. 

"Damn it," he mumbled. 

"You changed me?!" I yelled, hitting him with the pillow. 

"I didn't change you by myself, Jesus!" he exclaimed, "I mean, I helped you change." 

I eyed him warily, "And my makeup?" 

"You talked me through it. I took it off," he shrugged. He lay flat on his back, looking at me. "Relax. Nothing happened. We're not married, we didn't have sex, I'm not your husband, you're not my wife, hmm?" 

I have never been more glad of someone being sober. I crawled over and lay on top of him, hugging him. He chuckled, his arms going around my waist. "Thank you for staying sober and building a tolerance to alcohol," I mumbled against his skin. 

"You're welcome," he laughed. 

I pulled away enough to look at him until our eyes met. "I bet you'd play picture-perfect husband," I smiled, brushing his hair which had a tendency to fall over his eyes.