What Happened in Vegas?!

A few hours later, the television had been turned off and had been replaced with Frank strumming away on a guitar that I hadn't even noticed he'd brought with him. I would be lying if I said I minded him playing it, because he was actually pretty good, and it's not like he was playing something fast and over-the-top, it was actually just calm and gentle and it relaxed me somewhat.

I'd come up with an idea for my comic and was just drawing out basics, I still had a few more weeks until it had to actually be presented so I was in no rush. Frank chose then to start playing a loud and fast tune, which caught me off guard, and made me jump causing me draw an unwanted line half way across my page.

"Frank! What the fuck is wrong with you?" I hissed, attempting to rub out the line.

"I'm bored," he answered casually, strumming another obscenely loud note.

"Well, you can't play that loudly here! There's people in apartments above and below us, and I will not let you get us kicked out,"

"What am I supposed to do then?"

"I don't know, find some way to entertain yourself,"

"I'm not jerking off in the living room!" he said, turning to look at me, a mock-shocked expression on his face.

"You're disgusting," I replied, turning my nose up in disgust. He just raised his eyebrows at me a couple of times, a cheeky smirk on his face before turning back to his guitar and playing a bit quieter again. Damn. He really is hot.

"Frank," I started, aware of the stupidity of the question I was about to ask. "What are we going to tell people?" I finished slowly. He turned to look at me, raising an eyebrow.

"We're not going to get kicked out, so we won't have to tell them anything,"

"Not about that, idiot. I meant about this whole marriage situation,"

"What do you mean 'marriage situation'?"

"Well, I feel completely humiliated telling people the real story, so why don't we just say that we wanted it to happen. People will tell us that we jumped into it quickly, we'll tell them they're wrong - divorce after seven months and let them say 'I told you so'," I smiled triumphantly with the plan.

"You're happy with people being smug about the whole thing?"

"Yeah, why not?" I started to which Frank raised an eyebrow. "Come on Frank. It's less humiliating to say we wanted to be married than it is to admit we barley know each other and just for drunk,"

"I guess, but it's going to be weird, isn't it, when I go to the gig tonight; 'hey guys, how are you - oh yeah, I'm married?!'" how would they react to that?!"

"You have a gig tonight?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, I do most nights just to get some money,"

"Can I come?"

"Do you have to?"

I sighed. "Fine, I won't,"

Frank just chuckled at me before saying: "I was just kidding, of course you can come,"

"Maybe I don't want to now," I retaliated, childishly.

"Then don't," He concluded going back to his guitar.

Is it really wrong to admit that as I thought back over out petty little argument just then, I pictured Frank and I as an old married couple, but almost liked the idea of it? Yeah. That's really wrong.

I sighed, and shook my head before standing up and making my way towards the calender, and working out the day that we'd be able to divorce. "7 months," I mumbled, flicking through the pages. "Third Saturday in February," I concluded before turning to Frank. "We can get divorced on the 21st of February," I said, giving Frank and smile which was returned with a grin.

"Thank god!" He said, makingme frown a little bit. "I don't mean it like that. I mean, you're a nice guy; I just don't want to be married to you,"

"Yeah, I know," I chuckled back at him. "I think we should get new rings," I said, looking over at the coffee table where they both sat.

"Why?"

"Because they look crappy, and people aren't really going to believe that we love each other if we wear those shitty things,"

"You're getting way too into this for my liking," Frank frowned, putting his guitar back in it's case.

"I'm not! I just - think it should be genuine, or people will ask questions,"

"Yeah, whatever, but they better be cheap, I have no money,"

"Yeah they will be," I said, not wanting to waste money either. "So, whens this gig?" I asked, changing the subject but nevertheless genuinely interested in hearing some of his music.