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!"

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!"