《WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS - PETE WENTZ》2
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the next morning i woke up and looked around to see i was in a bed with all white sheets. they had little fancy monograms in white thread. i sat up, realized i was wearing a shirt that said "SUCK MY RICHARD" and looked around.
this wasn't my hotel.
the walls were all white and it looked extremely expensive. like a room a rockstar would have.
i looked around nervously and realized there was a guy covered in tattoos laying in the bed, fast asleep.
i looked down at my finger and saw a huge ring on my finger and screamed at the top of my lungs.
"why is there a ring on my finger you ASSHOLE!"
the guy who i had realized was pete, the guy i had met (and got drunk with) last night, finally woke up.
"what the fuck" he said, yawning.
i grabbed the pillow and smacked him over the head with it
"YOU ASSHOLE!" i said, showing him the ring.
he sat up and covered his mouth, his eyes widening
"that's an issue" he said.
getting out of bed i grabbed my dress,which had a tear in it.
"THIS COST ME ALL MY PAYCHECKS!" i screamed.
"it's fine baby i'll buy you a new one" he said.
"don't call me baby!" i said, running to the bathroom and putting on my dress and heels.
i walked over to the bed in which pete was sitting on in black skinny jeans and still no shirt on.
i tried to ignore it and walked over and threw the ring at him.
"what are we gonna do?!" i asked
"well i have tour-" he said
"oh no you don't. i am NOT going to sit around and wait for you to finally come back so we get can get a divorce!"
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pete rolled his eyes "me, you, court. this thursday. that gives you 5 days to prepare what you're gonna say. are happy now?"
i smiled a wicked smile
"yup. " i started to walk about but then remembered i didn't even know his last name.
or his number.
"put your number in" i said, giving him my phone.
"new york fashion week? did i fuck a model?" pete asked, wiggling an eyebrow as he typed in his number.
"more like wanna be designer. " i said, watching as he slightly stuck his tongue out in concentration.
"done yet mr what ever your last name is?" i asked.
he lifted up his shirt and took a picture of his stomach and made that the picture.
"REALLY?!" i asked.
"yes really. and it's wentz." he said.
"am i margo wentz now?" i asked sarcastically, snatching my phone and walking out the door.
"looks like it wifey!"
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