i don't do fake love (but i'll take some from you tonight)

ii.

Hester shrugged. "Divorce exists. And it's not that special, really. We just make out in front of a crowd in nice dresses. We've done that a billion times since highschool." It shouldn't be a big deal. She ignored the tightness in her chest everytime marriage was mentioned, the little voice telling her "it wasn't supposed to happen like this". Because it never was supposed to happen.

"And we get marriage bonuses from the government, actually," added Anadil.

"And I heard women like it when an affair is involved."

"Gross," they all agreed.

With a sigh, Dot regained her composure. "So, if you want to go-"

"Only with you agreeing," interrupted Anadil. "If you're really against it, we can just try to solve it. But just think about it. We can make the most out of it."

Hester was grinning from eye to eye, looking at Anadil. "Just love the progress from you saying it was bullshit to advocating for us to do it. That's my girl." Only then realizing how it sounded regarding the context of the conversation. She didn't even have the time to explain herself, as Anadil almost choked on her drink, expecting anything but the response, face reddening.

"Just go for it," said Dot, barely holding back laughter as Hester tried to perform something resemblant of first aid, Anadil coughing even harder, both blushing hard. It surely was going to be one hell of a trip.

From that evening on, things have just gotten more confusing. One part of that was telling their social circle how it all happened.

When they told their friends they were getting married, the expected reaction was for them to be surprised, shocked, horrified, whatever came more naturally. They prepared a wide array of responses to "what the fuck" and "no, that's so stupid, you're too young for that!". Instead, every single time, they had to deal with the "oh, you've finally got your shit together" and "congratulations, I hope I'm invited". And the former reactions came as the response to them only faking it.

And then there were the formalities, for which they used the most trivial of excuses, rather saying anything that was not "oh yeah, I can't take this shift because I'm getting married to my best friend for cash, goodbye". Their small town was overspread by rumors of where they were going, some of them caused directly by their inability to pick the same thing to say. And by their consequent inactivity, all the rumors only grew and soon they were leaving the town permanently to go sell drugs with the mafia, organize gay orgies and simultaneously manage a rescue dog shelter.

It seemed all fun and games till the landlord came and demanded to know where they were going, to which they managed to explain that they were going to earn a lot of money and pay everything off. They didn't add the part where they only hoped so.

Making their apologies and preparations, time passed quickly. Too quickly. After what felt like a fever dream, they found themselves boarding the largest ship they've ever seen. Everything else felt blurry before that.

But then the fresh sea air hit them, wind blowing into their faces to wake them up. Each breath felt like salt. The ship was just gigantic. That was the only word possible to describe how impossibly big it seemed. Everything about it seemed brand new, not a hint of salt on it, the color bright white, flowers hanging from its railings. There seemed to be a thousand windows, making them wonder just how many people were there. And it was waiting just for them, staff taking their suitcases as soon as they saw them, no questions asked. The ship's boarding bridge moved with each step, unsteadily guiding them on board. Yet as long as they got through the unpleasant phase of getting on, the ship felt as steady as the ground.

However big it seemed from the shore, it was even bigger as they stood on deck. So many eyes were fixed on them. They expected something small, something private, just enough to have their small fake wedding far away from the public eye. Instead, hundreds of people were observing them as if they were zoo animals. The crowd smelled of expensive perfumes, all battling each other in a pointless display of wealth. The scene could easily come from a designer party magazine, waiters with champagne passing through the arrays of people, looking all professional and sparkly.