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“I have a stomachache.” I shrug.
He looks between them and me, then nods.
“Hey, guys.” I groan and stop walking, holding my stomach. “I don’t feel good. I’m going to go back.”
Jeremy and Preston turn around with concerned expressions, but Preston holds his arm up to keep Jeremy from getting too close.
“What’s wrong?” Preston asks with suspicion.
“My stomach.” I moan again.
“Probably all that candy on the bus.” Paul shakes his head and puts his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll take him back and just Uber Eats some dinner.”
“We can bring you back something,” Jeremy offers, but Paul waves it away.
“That’s all right. Thanks, man.” Paul turns me back toward the hotel. “You guys go ahead. We’ll be fine.”
I amble along, groaning and complaining for a few more minutes until we turn a corner and no one will see us.
“Don’t go into acting; that was atrocious.” Paul rolls his eyes at me.
I pull out my phone and find the closest place we can get married.
“Five-minute walk that way.” I point down the street the way we’re going, shove my phone in Paul’s pocket, then jump up onto his back.
“What the fuck?” he yells but catches me and holds on to my legs.
“Hi-ho, Silver, away!” I yell, shoving one fist in the air while wrapping my other around his chest.
With a sigh, he starts walking in the direction I pointed, and my phone gives directions from his pocket, which makes me laugh.
“In a hundred feet, turn left,” the animated female voice says from his hoodie pocket.
“I think your dick is talking.” I nip at his neck and lick his ear. Paul shudders and tries to hide a moan, but I hear it and smile into his skin. “We need to find a way to switch rooms.”
Paul’s stomach grumbles, and I pat it. “Don’t worry, buddy, I’ll feed you soon.”
“With what? Cum?” Paul scoffs, but honestly, it’s not a bad plan . . .
“I mean, it has calories and, like, protein or something.” I shrug. “There’s worse things you could put in your face hole.”
“I’ve already put your dick in my face hole today,” Paul says over his shoulder to me as he turns us to face the mock chapel.
The building is covered in red and pink lights, has a steeple, and what looks like wood doors with stained-glass windows like those super old churches. But there’s also neon rose, ribbons, and wedding rings. It’s a really classy place.
“You really want to do this?” Paul asks while letting me down. I stand shoulder to shoulder with him, staring up at the sign that readsFREE ELVIS PICTURE WITH WEDDING PACKAGE.
“It’s perfect.”
“You’re wearing slides and basketball shorts, none of our family or friends are here, and there’s an Elvis impersonator.” Paul ticks off each item on his fingers, and disappointment settles in my stomach.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to do this. It was a crazy idea.” I shrug and try to keep the hurt from my voice. I want him to be mine. Only mine. Is that too much to ask? He’s said he loves me the way I am, that I’m not annoying or too much.
Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I clench my jaw to give myself something to focus on and cross my arms to pinch my inner arm where he won’t see. Pain makes the spiral stop.
Paul grabs my chin and turns me to face him, cupping my cheeks in his palms.
“I want nothing more than to make you mine in every way I possibly can,” he breathes, pressing our foreheads together. “But I don’t want you to look back and regret the way we did it. I can wait if you want to do it the traditional way.”
