I'm new to writing fanfiction, but I've been reading it for a long time so I just about know the ins and outs of it.
Also, could you guys please remember that this is a work of fiction and not all the facts are going to be correct. I google a lot of the stuff I write so I can be as truthful and honest as possible but sometimes facts have to be altered or completely made up to go with the flow of the story.
Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns twilight and its characters. I just own this little story.
BPOV
I groaned in pain as consciousness invaded my aching body and burrowed my head further into the mountain of pillows and blankets beneath me to block out the insistent sounds of birds chirping outside, content on hiding in my little cocoon for the rest of the day and sleeping away the painful throbbing in my head.
All too soon the familiar pressing need to relieve my bladder made me grumble in annoyance as I slowly sat up in bed, careful not to move too quickly and make myself ill. I wiped the sleep from my eyes as I threw the covers back and began to climb out of bed, crying out in shock as I landed awkwardly on the floor with my right foot still tangled up in the bed sheets.
I laid still for a moment, contemplating my life before I huffed, freed my foot from its confinements and picked myself up off of the floor. My painfully full bladder was quickly forgotten about though, as my eyes landed on the body of a sleeping man. A very naked sleeping man.
"Oh shit," I whispered to myself in shock as a quick glance down at my own body confirms that I am also very naked. In a rush to cover my nakedness I grab the first piece of clothing I see, which happens to be a man's black long sleeve t-shirt, and pull it on. It only falls mid-thigh but it's a lot better than standing around naked, especially when I have no idea where I am or what happed last night for me to end up in this situation.
I look down at the sleeping man again, blinking twice when my eyes catch sight of the wedding band on his finger. I suddenly feel sick when I come to the realization that I spent the night with a married man.
Without a second thought I'm moving quickly, and not so quietly around the room, trying to find my things. I manage to find my jeans, shoes and purse but it would seem both my underwear and t-shirt are a lost cause and nowhere to be found.
My movements are slow and sluggish as I make my way out of the bedroom and into the living room. I thanked god the penthouse was empty and made my way towards the front door, stopping short when I noticed a few pieces of paper laying forgotten on the floor in the entryway, like they'd been dropped in a hurry. I leant down and gathered them into a pile in my hands. The first couple of pages made no sense to me, as it was just paragraph after paragraph of writing. The third page, however, was perfectly clear.
The words marriage certificate written in bold letters at the top of the page were a dead giveaway.
Joined in lawful wedlock Edward Anthony Masen and Isabella Marie Swan.
It was my marriage license. I have a husband. And his name is Edward. I flicked through the other pages quickly, trying to guess whether or not they were important, until I reached the last two pages. Except they weren't pages. They were photographs. Wedding photographs.
I looked happy in the photograph, very drunk, but also very happy. I'm staring up into my husband's eyes in the photograph, with my hands on his chest and he's staring down into my eyes with his arms wrapped around my waist.
I put the pile of documents, including the wedding certificate, on the coffee table in the living room, but keep one of the wedding photos, leaving the other one for my husband.
"Where the hell have you been?" Angela demanded as I stumbled into our hotel room an hour later.
"It's a really long story," I mumbled as I hurried past her and into the bathroom.
"You've got half an hour to get showered and ready before we leave for the airport. And we will talk about this later Bella, I'm serious," Angela warned me as I stripped off my clothes and climbed into the shower.
I leaned back against the shower wall and breathed in deeply, trying to relax my tired and aching body. I quickly washed last night's activities off of my body, which consisted of sickly sweet smelling alcohol that can only be identified as a Cosmopolitan cocktail, sweat and cigarette smoke, which must have picked up at one of the casinos as neither me nor Angela smoked.
Speaking of Angela, she barged into the bathroom not fifteen minutes later, telling me to hurry up and get dressed so we could get a cab to the airport.
In a rush I towel dry my hair and shove it into a messy bun on top of my head before wrapping the towel around my body and walking into the bedroom to get dressed. In preparation for the five-hour flight from Las Vegas to New York I choose to wear a comfy pair of sweatpants, a plain t-shirt, a thick jumper and my favorite pair of old, ratty sneakers.
After grabbing my carry-on bag, I met Angela downstairs in the lobby, which is where I'd assumed she'd disappeared to when I couldn't find her in our hotel room.
"We've just got to checkout and then we can go," Angela said, handing me her luggage whilst she made her way over to the smiling receptionist.
Checking out took all of two minutes and then we were on our way. Angela hailed a cab to take us to the airport and climbed in without so much as a glance in my direction. Shaking my head, I climbed in after her, bracing myself for the shitstorm heading my way.