My head is throbbing. Like really throbbing, I feel different. But that could be because I haven't gotten drunk or had an hangover in 10 years.
A weird ache between my legs, an ache I haven’t felt for 7 years.
I look down and see that I’m covered in a thick duvet but I know I’m naked. I can feel the duvet on my bare skin.
Why on earth am I naked?
What the hell happened?
An arm wraps around me, making me freeze.
Really Liv? You’re naked, in a bed. Clearly you’ve had sex. Why would you think you’re alone?
My subconscious does have a point....
The person doesn’t talk at all, but tugs me closer, tugging me against him which is making me turn without my wanting to.
I will have to face the person at one time right?
His broad chest meets my eyes.
Ooh, not wrong. Nice muscles. No woman has ever detested a sixpack, right?
Nice plump rosy lips, Damn. Those must have been fun to kiss.
Too bad I don't remember kissing those lips anymore. I look higher and freeze when I see the same face, the face I've looked at and woken up next to for 7 years.
That's Andrew, still sleeping but still....
“Liv, come on. Have some fun. It’s been years since we’ve done something with all the girls. It’s my bachelorette party, don’t be a party-pooper. You’ve promised to be there, so you better come out of your room. You didn't come all this way to New York for nothing right? ” My best friend, Sara chastises me.
I haven’t gone out since I was 21 years old. That was with Andrew, my ex-fiancé. We were supposed to get married, but it in the end it wasn’t meant to be.
Actually, I don’t know if it was meant to be or not, as my boyfriend of 7 years stood me up at our wedding day .
Left at the altar, to be precise. What a way to get dumped right. I’ll tell you, it crushed me in every way possible while a truck rode over my heart and then a train came and rode over me once more. It was horrible.
I’ll never forget his best friend Greg’s face. The smug look on it, the smirk.
He got what he wanted and why?
I don’t know why. But he never liked me, but then again. I never liked him either. He tried to break us up ever since we got together.
And 7 years later, he got what he wanted. And what a spectacle he made of it.
He pronounced it in front of everybody. Family and friends, at the altar as if it was his stage. Nope, he stood at the front waiting for the double church doors to open, when I came out of it with my dad next to me and then he said it, “He’s not coming.”
I broke down like any sane woman would have done. I broke down in my classy white satin dress, getting it stained from my make-up. As he and others including our photographer took photos of me. And yes, I still have them.
To remember why I don’t date, don’t go out except when I have to.
It was like I deserved it, but I know I didn’t.
I deserved an explanation.
I’ve waited 7 years for an explanation, but I never got it.
All I got, was a door in my face when I confronted his mom a couple of weeks later.
The signs were clear after all these years, I wasn’t getting any answers.
All I could do was move on.
And I did. Kind off.
I focused on me, my family and my job.
Tonight was the first time since that dreadful day that I would go out for such a big event, but for Sara I should do it.
“Fine, I’m coming down. But the second I’m not feeling it anymore, I’m out. You know how these things make me feel.”
I can see her roll her eyes through the phone.
“He’s not worth this sacrifice you’ve made. You should’ve shown him what he has lost. Not lock yourself up. Get dressed in something sexy, put on some make-up, put that wig on and get your fine ass down.”
She has a point doesn’t she?
I did get dressed, but it was simple. Too simple, not sexy at all, not worthy of a maid of honor at a bachelorette.
“I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”
“YES!” She screams through the line. I end the call and get to work.
I pull out my sexy red dress. It’s a dress my mom got me when she pushed me out for a date. The date was horrible, and gave me the idea that dating and going out was not in the cards for me.
But it did give me this sexy number.
It hugs all the right places. As a 28-year-old I’m not the skinny kind of girl I was all those years ago. But then again, I never really was. I’m my momma’s daughter, got curves, lots of others would cry over. But I rarely show them, even when I did go on a date.
In a past life.
Don’t think about that. Think about what Sara said, he’s not worth it.
I hold back the tears and finish my make-up, enhance my forest green eyes with a cat-eye line and some bright red lipstick to match my dress.
I put my beautiful curly wig on making my hair a little bit more brown than my actual hair color is, but that's what wigs do don't they? You can't have the exact same hair color can you.
The black stiletto’s to finish the look, knowing I won’t hold them on for the entire night.
Heels, yes. But stiletto’s, nope. Those are sexy as hell, but also uncomfortable as hell.
And everyone who says otherwise, liar liar pants on fire.
I step out of my room and make my way down, swaying my hips like I never stopped.
Yes, I’m feeling it. I feel sexy, really sexy.
Once I’m down and walk out the elevator, I feel all eyes on me. It’s the kind of attention I haven’t had in a long time.
“Dang! Yes, Liv. That’s what I’m talking about. I got my wingwoman back. You look hot as fuck!” Sara yells for the entire lobby, making my cheeks heat up.
“I feel it as well, I’m here like promised.” I tell her shrugging my shoulders, remembering her that I put in the effort but still I don’t really want this. I’m doing this for her.
“Yes, let’s go!”
And we did, we went all night, within the hour my stiletto’s flew somewhere in a booth as I let the drinks flow.
We went to a stripclub, making sure the bride to be had her last night of fun before the big day. They aren’t getting married for a couple of weeks, but Sara wanted everyone here. Including her sister, who lives hours away and it was her only weekend off.
We all made it work, for Sara.
Some of the girls shoot daggers at me, and I know why. I didn’t do this for them. But they also didn’t do what Sara did for me.
She stood by me, picked me up when I broke down. She was there, she was my maid of honor and she made sure I got out of there. She was with me for the weeks to pass after that day.
But better then that she was with me when my cancer came back. She came to every doctors appointment, held my hair back when the chemo became too much and I was puking my guts out.
She was there when I needed her. And therefore I am here, doing the exact same thing for her. Not the chemo part, but if needed, which I hope will never be needed, I'll be there.
I have to admit, I had lots of fun. The pole dancing to the half naked bartenders, yup. A great bachelorette.
Somewhere between the strip club and the private dances, I saw familiar blue eyes looking at me.
Blue eyes I wished I never had to see again. But he wasn't alone, he was there with a friend I suppose.
The blue eyes came closer to me, all of a sudden the rest of the world faded away. Standing in front of me, he looked like he had seen a ghost.
I knew that was Sara, and by the look on Andrew's face, he didn't expect to see me nor her here. But that's how faith works doesn't it?
What on earth am I saying?
"Olivia, what are you doing here?" He asks me.
"Don't!" Sara, the bride to be, slurs, stomping towards or trying to come to us. But instead she cracks a smile as another stripper pushes her back down to give her a lap dance.
We are definitely getting what we payed for with this bachelorette and I don't know why but it must be the all the booze running through my veins, but I smiled at him.
I through my arms around his neck and started dancing. Dancing like we would do back in college. Swaying my hips on the beat of the music. Turing around as I grind against him, going lower and getting back up.
"You know you never answered my question." He whispers in my ear, as he holds me by my hips against him.
His whisper sends a shiver over my skin.
"Less talking more drinking." I answer him, pulling him towards the bar.
I don't want to answer him, it would only cause more hurt. And what better way to forget that you're hurt, than drinking?
"Two shots of scotch please." I yell at the sexy bartender.
"Coming right up gorgeous." He says with a smile, winking at me.
I giggle at his gesture, I haven't been called gorgeous in years. At least not by anyone else then my family. And let's be honest that doesn't really count does it?
"Why are you giggling?"
I shrug my shoulders, but the face he's giving me and the booze in my system makes me spill everything I'm thinking.
"I haven't been called gorgeous by a man other than my dad, in like seven years. It's just weird that's all, but enough with the sappy stuff, let's get drunk and go dance!"
Andrew pulls a weird face, as if something doesn't add up for him. But doesn't say anything else. I pull him with me and dance further on the dance floor.
And that's what we did, we danced the entire night. We drank, talked and danced like we were two teenagers with nothing to think about.
But that's what alcohol does to your body and brain doesn't it? It makes you forget, it makes you do things, things you would never think of doing when you are sober.
It clouds your judgement, and that's how you end up in a wedding chapel at 3 AM, getting married to the one person you hated.
That one person, you believe, ruined your life years ago.