Snippet #2487793

"Ay dios mio." Full red lips pursed in into a pout.

It should not be this hard to get dressed. She was in Vegas for gods sakes.

With her tawny complexion, and smokey gaze she was bound to look like a goddess in anything. But since this was her vacation she wanted to look desirable, and she wanted to splurge. She had just purchased a thin black dress, and brought it back to her hotel to change. It hugged her curves in all the right places, and the hem ended just above her thigh. She felt like a temptress while she was wearing it, but she was concerned it might be overkill. She wanted to attract attention, not look like she was desperate. "Nope. Nope. Nope." She grumbled, threading her fingers through her silky raven locks. She was so bad at partying by herself.

Turning on her heel, she walked over to the unmade bed and began to look for her phone. She couldn't remember where it was.

It was somewhere in the sheets?

She pushed the comforter onto the floor, tearing all of the bedding away from the mattress. Her phone was nowhere in sight. "¡Maldita sea!" (damn) She cursed blindly as she fumbled around the room. It wasn't on the night stand. It wasn't by the entertainment set. It wasn't in the bathroom. Where was it??? She was starting to panic as she picked up her purse from the floor and turned it over so it's contents were sprawled over the bed. She dug through a pile of keys, a box of tampons, her ipod, and her wallet, and found it beneath a pack of gum. A soft exhale escaped her lips as she picked up her Iphone, and cradled it to her chest like it was some lost treasure.

She left the mess where it was and flicked the phone screen open just as a text bubble popped up from her best friend.

Rosa: hey Mija, how's Vegas?? Are you enjoying yourself?

Naya frowned, and her fingers glided over the glowing letters in front of her: "I can't even decide if I should leave the hotel room..Why am I here?? I have stuff to do at home."

Rosa: ...We sent you there for a reason All you do is D.J. in the clubs And study. You don't sleep. You don't eat. You have digested so much caffeine in the last two months, I'm pretty sure you have more coffee than blood running through your veins right now. Just enjoy Vegas. It's not that hard Naya."

Naya snorted unhappily, and sent a quick reply to her nosey best friend. "Bete a la verga." (Go to hell)

Rosa's reply showed up less than a second later: tch. Love you too, chica. Let me see what you're wearing before you leave. Sometimes I can't trust you to dress yourself.

Really?

Naya was 27, not five. She didn't need help picking out an outfit.

Grumbling incessantly to herself, she reversed her Iphone so the camera was facing her, and snapped a quick picture that she sent to Rosa with a frowny face. She was beyond done with this conversation. Rolling her eyes at her own belligerence, she turned her attention to the disaster she had created on the bed. Palming her cell in her hand, she dumped her Iphone and the pile of necessities on the mattress back into her purse, and put her purse on the floor. She was almost ready to go out for the evening but she needed shoes. She knelt down next to her bag and began unearthing her heels from the massive pile of sheets and blankets on the floor. She had kicked her black heels under the bed when she unpacked her suitcase, and now she needed them because she didn't want to come back to the hotel with blistered feet.

Sliding them on her petite feet she hefted her purse over her shoulder, and her hazel eyes did a cursory sweep around the room--trying to visually assess her surroundings to see if she forgot anything. Purse. Cellphone. Extra cash. It appeared nothing was missing. Her room was in shambles. And the bed was a catastrophe, but for a night out in Vegas she had everything she needed. "The maids are going to hate me." She chuckled, as she glided out of the room. Her heels were the only audible sound against the sidewalk as she left the safety of her hotel to call a cab. There were other noises. The sounds of traffic, and the buzz of people. There was even the faint sound of sirens in the distance, but considering she was from California--Those noises were so familiar to her that she able to ignore them completely.

What happened after she stepped into the cab could only be described as a blur.

Her only goal for the night had been to get plastered and to have a good time.

She remembered being dropped off at the club.

She remembered walking over to the bar and claiming a stool.

She even remembered downing her first Shot, and the burning sensation that followed.

There were vague memories of being approached by several men, and a few brave women over the course of the evening. But only one face surfaced in her mind with vivid clarity. A good looking guy, with a charming attitude, and an endearing smile had captured her interest and had even convinced her to dance. He had moved with her. Grinded against her. And on a whim she had followed him back to his hotel room. That's where her memories ended. The next morning she had woken up with a throbbing headache, and ring on her finger with no recollection of how it got there. Every inch of her body hurt, and if she looked carefully she saw teeth marks, and hickeys trailing down her body. She could get over the love bites. She could get over the condoms, and the freaky things that happened in the bed.

What she couldn't get over was his stupefied expression and how he couldn't seem to remember getting married to her. Nevermind that she was guilty of the same sin. He was the man! Men were supposed to know when they did dumb things like this. Lost in a fit of rage, adrenaline pounding in her ears, she unleashed all of her fury on him. She threw at chair at his face, and tried to break his jaw with her fist, but she only succeeded in bruising her knuckles.

That was this morning.

Now they were sitting in a lawyer's office.

And he had that same stupefied expression in place as they learned just how stuck they were.

They had to be married for a year.

She was stuck with this man for a year.

Tired, hung over, and dressed in the wrinkled black dress she had been so proud of the day before she absorbed this news with a placid expression. She didn't know how to react. First of all she didn't believe in marriage. Second of all she wasn't lucid enough to be having this discussion. And last of all, her eye was still swollen from their fight this morning and it was making her seethe with rage how useless the legal system was.

When the meeting ended, and Dante actually had the gall to touch her. To try and discuss their situation rationally as their lawyers were leaving, She ripped her hand away from him. "Last time I went with you to your hotel room, this happened," She held her ring finger up bitterly for him to see. There was a marriage band around the curled digit, and it was a constant reminder of the mess they were in. She took a step forward so she was invading his personal space, and she pushed him back so he was pressed against the wall. With her heels on she was able to look down on him for a few seconds, and her hazel eyes glimmered furiously as she gestured between them. "This is a joke. I don't really care what the damn marriage certificate says. I'm still Naya Jordan. You're still Dante Miller. And I'm gonna pretend this never happened." She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation, and turned around to stalk away.

Her enraged walk was more of a hobble because her feet were raw from the previous night.

"Don't say a word." She scowled darkly at Dante before she stopped walking altogether. Pausing in midstride, she bent down and ripped the heels off her feet so she was walking barefoot through the legal office. Her shoes were in her hand. And her purse was hanging unevenly off her shoulder.

All she wanted to do was forget about Dante.

And his stupid good looking face.

And his stupid charm.

And this stupid marriage.

She was in pure denial mode as she tried to escape the lawyer's office, and get to the parking lot.