For the First Time: Twenty-One Brand New Stories of First Love

For the First Time: Twenty-One Brand New Stories of First Love by Alessandra Torre, Al.

Book: For the First Time: Twenty-One Brand New Stories of First Love by Alessandra Torre, Al. Read Free Book Online
Authors: Alessandra Torre, Al.
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bathroom.
    With a deep breath, I stood just inside the doorway.
    In.
    Out.
    I gulped in air and let it out over and over until the wheezy feeling passed. Then, closing my eyes, I took the longest piss of my life and opened them only to flush the toilet. It was then, with my left hand on the lever, that I saw the glint of metal around my finger. Not just any finger, my ring finger.
    In a rush, it all came back.
    The crowd of us walking down the Strip in the wee hours of the morning, passing guys handing out fliers for strippers and escorts, a man levitating on the sidewalk, and people in all kinds of rentable costumes shouting at us. We’d stopped to see the water dance in front of the Bellagio hotel. Someone in the crowd pointed to a sign that read “Wedding Chapel.” Someone else was saying, “I’ve never been in a Vegas chapel.” Another said, “Me either.” Avery suggesting, “Lets go inside and check it out.”
    The crowd had lessened to about twelve of us, and none of us questioned her. We all just went inside. I was expecting a flying Elvis or two but that wasn’t what I got. Instead I got heaven. The chapel was swathed in a bluish glow that sparkled off the silver chairs. The carpet was white. There were lights everywhere. And there were even clouds on the ceiling.
    I was in heaven, or so I thought.
    Like a vision, I looked at Lindsay and saw my angel. She was sent to put me on the right path, and with that knowledge, I knew what I had to do. Out of nowhere, I dropped to my knee and told Lindsay I wanted her to be mine forever. I remember her just looking at me. When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I asked again. “Marry me?”
    She giggled, “You’re drunk.”
    I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I am, I know what I want, and it’s you.”
    She stared at me, stunned.
    What happened next was a little hazy. I could see pieces of it.
    Me begging her to say yes.
    Me begging.
    Begging her for more.
    Begging.
    Her shaking.
    Her taking my face in her hands. “Are you sure?”
    Me nodding. “I’ve never been more sure in my life.”
    Her crying.
    Everyone around us crying.
    Signing papers.
    Picking rings.
    Deciding on witnesses.
    And…and then finally us walking down the aisle to a crescendo of inspiring guitars and being pronounced husband and w—
    Snapping out it, I yelled, “Lindsay!” as I rushed from the bathroom, grabbing a towel to wipe my hands. I had to see if this was real.
    She sat up, grabbing for the sheet and looking disheveled, but still more beautiful than ever. “What is it?” she asked, alarmed.
    “Let me see your fingers.”
    She let the sheet go and outstretched her hands.
    And there, on her left ring finger, was a matching piece of metal. “We got married.” I didn’t so much ask the question as made a statement.
    She nodded, and I think she gulped. “We did.”
    I swallowed.
    I. Got. Married.
    Her eyes went a little teary. “You regret it, don’t you?”
    All I could do was stare. I had never wanted to get married and just like that, I’d begged for it.
    In a rush, she ran to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
    I knocked. “Lindsay?”
    I heard water running.
    When she didn’t answer, I opened the door. “Are you okay?”
    She nodded and turned, her hands gripping the counter. “We shouldn’t have done that.”
    Was she regretting it?
    Was I?
    Oddly enough, I wanted this girl to be mine.
    But marriage?
    “What do you want to do?” she whispered.
    I ran my palm over my head and just stared at her, trying to find the right words.
    “James?”
    The sound of her voice saying my name, the fact that no woman had ever made me feel the way she did, gave me the realization that yes I wanted this, that even though I may have been drunk when I proposed, the feelings behind the proposal were real. Still, I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know what to do. I felt paralyzed.
    Lindsay walked past me and went back into the bedroom. “I have to lie down.”
    I followed her

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