I’m writing the next chapter, along with a few one shots.

Yes? Yes. DON’T FORGET TO LEAVE ME REQUESTS?

Prologue - Our Story

pro·logue /ˈprōˌlôg/

noun

an introduction leading up to future events

I guess in this story, this is the ‘prologue’. This is where I introduce a bunch of important places, people, and set the setting for the rest of the story. No pressure. 

For starters, my name is Cara. Not originally. My parents thought that Carolyn would be a good name choice. A name as graceful and charming as “Carolyn” would insure their firstborn daughter (and only child) would have grace and charm. Well, they thought wrong. I’m not at all graceful and charming, and the name really never fit me. I abbreviated the name to “Cara” all by myself in fifth grade. Cara means friendly. It suit me better I think. Josh thinks so too.

Josh. The other important element in this story. He’s the one that helped me invent the nickname in fifth grade. It was the first day of school and the computer class teacher sat us next to each other. When the teacher called role, she called me by my dreaded name, “Carolyn”. Josh turned to face me. “You’re name’s Carolyn?” “Unfortunately,” I rolled my eyes. “What? You don’t like ‘Carolyn’?” he had laughed. I shook my head. “Hate it,” I admitted. “Then change it.” “You can do that?” “I don’t see why not.”

The assignment that day was to learn how to use search engines like google and yahoo to help us with our research project we’d be working on throughout the year. Josh and I, however, decided to use google and yahoo to find nicknames for “Carolyn”. “Carol?” he whispered. I shook my head. “Gross.” “Okay. What about Carrie?” he asked. I guess he could tell by the disgusted expression on my face because I didn’t even have to say anything before he laughed and said, “Okay. Not Carrie.” After a few more minutes of pretending to research while really looking up nicknames, he had another suggestion. “Well what about Cara?” “Cara?” “Yeah. It says here it’s a name from Ireland, and means ‘friendly’.” “I like Cara,” I admitted sheepishly. “Alright. Then your new name is officially Cara.” 

“JOSHUA HUTCHERSON. Quit your talking and work on your assignment!” the teacher yelled from the back of the classroom. Josh turned so that she couldn’t see him and rolled his eyes. “Joshua?” I asked. “No. I hate that name. My mom only yells it at me if I’m in trouble,” He laughed. “Call me Josh.” “Josh,” I smiled back at him. “I like that much better.”

It was that day in the fifth grade that I met my best friend. Josh, the one who hated being called Joshua, who saved me from growing up to be Carolyn. Josh, the one who’d save me from many, many things down the road, even though I’d never admit I needed saving. This is the story of me and that Josh.

(OH. And if you haven’t caught on, like, the past two oneshots I posted were me listening to a certain song on replay and writing what came to my mind.)

Waking Up In Vegas

The sunlight shooting through the window wakes me up. It burns. My head is pounding. I feel sick. But I’m not. I know what this is. A hangover. Surprise, surprise. It was bound to happen eventually. I don’t know how I’d survived two days on vacation in Vegas without ending up with one. I had been laying on my side facing the window so it didn’t take too much effort to roll out of bed and shut the curtains over the window, blocking out the horrible sunlight. I waddle back to my bed, about to curl back up and fall asleep. That’s when I’m aware of the lump on the other side of the king mattress. I jump backwards, startled. I can’t see the face. Just a brown head of hair peeking out from under the comforter. As if aware that I’m inspecting them, I watch the stranger groan and turn onto their stomach, masking their face in the pillows.

I look down and— wait. Where are my clothes? I look back at the stranger. No… no, I mean, I’ve gotten drunk before and done stupid stuff. But never that stupid. I try to remember last night, but that only draws more throbbing from my head. The stranger turns again restlessly. They’ll be awake soon. I look around the room anxiously. I’m desperate to find my clothes again. Different articles of clothing are scattered around the room. I find my bra strung across the lampshade. My skirt is shoved under neath the couch. Maybe I’ll find my suitcase. I open the closet doors. Instead of finding my matching green luggage set, I find an aged duffel bag. This isn’t even my room! 

I walk into the bathroom and grab the robe off the back of the bathroom door. I pull my arms into the sleeves and go to fasten the robe in the front when I see the ring. It’s  one hell of a rock. And it’s on my— my ring finger?! “What?!” I say out loud. I didn’t mean to, but the initial shock forces the words out of my mouth. Apparently, the stranger is a light sleeper. “Who are you, and how’d you get in my room?” I hear from the bedroom.

I make sure the robe is tied tightly around my body before walking back into the bedroom. I hold up my hand with the ring on it. “I think we have a problem.” The stranger sits up and that’s when I first catch a glimpse of his face. His tousled brown hair is evidence of last night’s history. His eyes  are warm, but show the same amount of shock as he examines my hand. He props himself up on his elbows while leaning back and looking at me. I can tell he’s trying to remember last night’s events. “Listen,” I say, taking charge of the awkward silence in the conversation. “I don’t know what happened, exactly. But, I’m sorry. I’ll be leaving now…”

“No wait!” he says. “Can’t I even introduce myself first? I mean, according to the state of Nevada…” He holds up his hand, and I see he’s got a ring on his finger as well. “We’re legally married.” He smiles, and his smile melts my heart a little. He is really, really attractive. My drunk self sure knows how to pick them. “I’m Josh,” He introduces himself and extends his hand towards me. Does he expect me to shake it?

“I’m _____,” I reply and shake his hand back formally. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ____. Would you like to maybe get breakfast? Get to know each other? Enjoy the newlywed life? ” He laughs. 

I laugh back. “First of all, this is only going to last until I can get whatever papers we signed last night reversed,” I hold up the ring. “But getting to know you over breakfast sounds fine.” He gives me another smile. For a split second, I wonder if maybe signing those papers wasn’t such a bad thing after all…