Bryce's P.O.V.
Before our trip to Las Vegas, I reorganized my home. I did this to calm the nervousness that was bound to slam into me like a storm on the day of the wedding. Sophia didn't know about the investigation. Something told me that I had to tell her before her bachelorette party in Nevada, but the other part of me – the less sensible part – procrastinated on the talk with Sophia.
It can wait.
It can wait until tomorrow, I said again and again. Or the day after tomorrow.
I was running out of excuses – fast. I wasn't making this easier on anyone the longer I waited, causing more harm than helping if I kept this from her. I didn't know how she'd react. Her relationship with her father had improved since the news of the wedding, meaning that this could end in only two ways.
The first option was obvious. She'd call the wedding off and the only thing she would vowed to would be to never speak to me again. The second outcome was that she'd let this pass and not wish death upon me. This was unlikely, given that I had waited so long.
On the drive to Las Vegas, I occupied myself. This would be the hardest forty-eight hours of my life. I would tell her now – right this second – but we were in two separate vehicles. Conner drove the car I was in. Kelsey was the driver for the vehicle all the girls were in (and Nicolas). We were both going to the same hotel, but on different floors. And from how Kelsey explained the night to me, she'd do her best to keep Sophia away from me.
"Lighten the fuck up!" Anthony elbowed me. "Why the hell do you look so damn mopey."
"Someone get him a drink." Ernie commented from the passenger seat. "That'll help."
"It won't." I grumbled, but Anthony threw a bottle of beer at me anyway. Using the lighter in my back pocket, I popped open the top.
"You smoke?" Anthony raised his brows. "I didn't know that."
"I don't smoke." I rectified. "At least not cigarettes."
"You haven't smoked pot since freshman year," Conner noted. "You would always bitch about the stench. What made you change your tune?"
"Are you freaking out about the wedding?" Anthony nudged me and I suppressed the impulse to flick my lighter at his eye. God, he was a real nuisance. "Huh? Huh? Is that is?"
"No, that's not the case." I took my first sip, wiping my upper lip of the fizzy liquid that splashed on me from lifting it too far. My motor skills were slowing down. Maybe not seeing Sophia tonight was a positive. I thought the pot would've helped get my thoughts in order, but it only made me oddly thirsty, hungry, and mellowed out.
None of those things helped create a plan to tell Sophia I was putting her father in prison. I chugged half the bottle, letting it drown out my worries. Warmth spread to my cheeks and all over my body, reaching my toes as the pungent taste of alcohol washed down my throat. I felt good – for once.
"Give me another bottle." I demanded.
"I just gave you that one." Anthony pointed at the empty green glass bottle I had dropped on to the floorboard. "W—"
"I said give me another one." I ordered. "You guys bought a lot."
"Okay, okay." Anthony caved, handing me another with the top removed. I knocked my head back instantly. "Hey, slow down. You're going to be passed out on the hotel floor if you don't pace yourself."
I temporarily paused to curse him out, then went back to consuming the beverage. My threshold was high. I'd need a lot more to get me to become black-out drunk. I could thank my two-year long crippling depression after Julia's death. I had a tolerance level that some would either call impressive or undoubtedly troubling.
Those lonesome nights echoed a familiar feeling inside of me. This could be a relapse of some sense, realizing that the dark days would return once Sophia learns what I had done.
Something told me that I'd be worse off, tremendously worse than I was before.
"Give me another." I roared, dropping the second bottle.
Sophia's P.O.V.
The fake I.D. that I used back in high school finally prove to have more purpose than I intentionally thought it would. I didn't want to get drunk. I wasn't a happy drunk. I didn't want to push that kind of burden on my friends.
Brooklyn, Nicolas, Kelsey, and Tonya accompanied me on the trip to Las Vegas. Since Anthony was going with the boys, I felt like it would be nice to also bring Tonya along. We didn't have any problems and she seemed like a nice girl.
"You're really doing it." Brooklyn's eyes widened when we were inside the hotel. "You're really getting married in two days."
I chuckled. "Yeah, I am. It's crazy."
"It's the good kind of crazy." Kelsey justified. "Plus, you love Bryce."
"I do." I beamed. "I love him and I know he'd never do anything bad to hurt me."
"He's still a boy." Nicolas yelped, bumping his hip to mine and walking to the bed, then belly flopping on to it. "I think I'm qualified enough - being a boy and all - to say we're prone to fuck some stuff up along the way."
"Speaking of boys," Kelsey leaped off one of the chairs and on to the bed. "How's things going with you and Kennedy?"
Nicolas buried his head into the covers.
"I'll take that as a good sign." Kelsey prodded him. "Oooh. Do I smell a romance brewing?"
"A what?" Brooklyn stopped checking herself out in the long mirror on the bathroom door, reapplying her glittery lipstick. "All I heard was romance. You weren't on a date, Nic? I didn't know that. With who? What happened with Hannah?"
She was so obsessed with her reflection that she hadn't heard us disclose the boy's name that was in question. "Hannah isn't r ..." Nicolas paused. "She moved schools. We mutually broke-up."
"Oh, that's a shame." Brooklyn frowned and then went back to adding a new layer of lip stick on. "When are we leaving to the club?"
"In an hour." I replied. "I should start getting ready. I want to shower."
"What for? You don't need to look for anyone. Bryce isn't here," Brooklyn quipped.
I barked a laugh. "The only person I ever look good for is myself. Maybe I just want to see how great I look while walking past my reflection on storefront windows." I shrugged, not really meaning it.
Perhaps inviting Brooklyn was bad on my part. I should've taken Kelsey's advice when she said I should slowly remove her from my life, but Nicolas was the one who insisted on inviting her, saying that it would be a good way to heal the wounds.
I saw no point in healing wounds. Maybe I wanted the deep cuts in our friendship to only grow bigger and worsen.
. . .
"Have you ever wondered why people don't ever pronounce the b in doubt?" I slurred, going against my own hopes to not get drunk. I was only tipsy during this hour of the night, but that was only because my third drink hadn't hit me yet because I downed it so fast.
"I never thought of that." The stranger I was talking to mumbled. I met him at the bar and he followed me to the seating area Kelsey had reserved for us. Kelsey and Nicolas were dancing, and Brooklyn and Tonya remained at the bar. I was left alone. "Also, isn't it weird how there's a p in front of pterodactyl and pneumonia?"
"There is! I forgot about that." I slapped his arm. "That's wild."
He chortled huskily, fingering the waves of his sandy brown hair. "Not as wild as what I'm thinking right now." His sweaty palm swept over my thigh, hiking up to the hem of my skirt. "My hotel isn't far from here."
Shoving him across the chest, I bolted to my feet. "I'm engaged."
He wobbled on to his two feet, smirking. "You don't act like you are."
"I was talking about how flawed the English was. That's not an open invite to hit on me." I shouted over the loud music. A profanity left my lips as I raced through the crowd and to the restroom. The lady's room was in my line of vision while nauseating feeling simmered in my stomach.
Kicking the door open, I hurried to the sink. The line to the stalls was outrageously long. I didn't need the toilet. I only needed to splash some water in my face. Gripping the sink, I took a sharp intake of air, evaluating everything. The room tilted as I thought, whispering words to myself.
"You don't look too good, sweetie. You should head home," said a girl, exiting out of the stall behind me, only giving me one glance.
"I'm - " I cut myself off, coming eye to eye with Audrey. She was the girl who had walked out the stall. She was thinner, paler even. Her clothes were baggy on her tiny frame. Was this a hallucination? Was this real?
"How..how are you here?" I rapidly batted my thick lashes at the sickly thin girl. "You don't look the same."
"I don't feel the same." She admitted. "You don't look the same either. But that could be because of the alcohol."
"Yeah, that's probably it." I smiled, and then, like a pile of bricks the truth crashed into me. "Oh my God, you can't be here. There's cops...and Bryce. What are you doing here of all places? You should turn yourself in. They're looking for you."
Her grin faltered, darkening and appearing more menacing. "I'm not turning myself in. What I did was for the greater good."
"What are you talking about? You killed people. You stole from him."
"And? You think your man is more innocent than me?" She growled. "I did what I did for a reason and I don't regret it. He deserves to pay for what he's doing to our family behind our backs. Oh, Sophia, if you only knew."
"Who? Who are you talking about?"
"Bryce. He's the one who deserves to pay." She snuck a look at the swinging restroom door. "I need to go. Are you sure you're fine?"
"I'll be fine. I'm worried about you."
"I'm more worried about you." She gave me a hug and peered at me. "You're the one who's about to marry the devil himself."
"What..?" I slurred, puzzled as she darted for the door.
...Was any of this real or a figment of my imagination? I wondered, splashing more water on my face.
. . .
It was the day of the wedding. I couldn't contain my enthusiasm. Disregarding the headache and cotton mouth I woke up from yesterday because of the bachelorette party the other night, I was doing fine. Kelsey planned everything to perfection. She thankfully didn't go against my wishes of not inviting a stripper to the hotel.
We drove back to Los Angeles. Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to speak with Bryce. I saw him walk into an elevator– or more so stumble – when we were on our way to the club, but Kelsey stopped me from going after him.
He's with the guys. He's in good hands, she told me and I believed her for the time being. I got to the apartment before the boys, which didn't sit well with me, but Kelsey reassured me again.
"I'll call Conner." Kelsey soothingly said, pulling me into a hug. "Don't sweat it, okay? Everything is under control."
She always knew what to say. I put my trust in her. There was lots to do today, and without my mother's blessings or guidance on this important day, I had enough to stress about.
"I'll call him now," Kelsey said and opened the door, exiting the apartment. The elevator rang its bell as the doors parted, meaning someone was coming to our floor. "Oh, that must be them. I told you there was nothing to bug out about."
I craned my neck, peaking further down the hallway. My hysteria didn't melt, it heightened. "That's not Bryce."
An older man with snow white hair and green eyes that mirrored Bryce's stepped out of the elevator. His black cane clicked loudly on the tiled floor. Behind him stood a younger girl, possibly Rio's age, and a little boy to her left with fiery red hair.
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