Chapter Nine: Teen Bride
A/N: Thank you so much for all of the comments and reviews. They're truly lovely. I must really not want to do real life things, because here's another one a day and a half later. This is what happens when you listen to Frank Ocean's "American Wedding" on repeat while doing other things. Since the last one was fluffy, I guess this is a little bit warped... only a little.
"Fuck."
The guttural hiss leapt from his agape pout, only to be cupped shut with a petite, brown hand from beneath the screen. Their movement cemented by the flash of the camera.
"Sorry," Sam chuckled into a whisper before finding himself replete, choking out his exultations, he gripped the soft red velvet of the narrow booth.
Feeling the flash wash across his face once more, he spurted into the pillowy receiving mouth below. Wheezing for air, the young blond reposed his head against the wall with a smile from ear to ear, feeling the petite woman crawl up onto his lap and kiss his cheek for another photograph.
"Last one, Evans. Make it count," she beamed against the scruff of his chiseled jaw. The teen swiped her white veil away from her face, getting it out of the way for her to lapping his adam's apple properly.
His calloused thumb guided her chin up until her lips met his. Consuming whatever gloss that had the nerve to remain on her lips in the process. He smirked against her pout as the final flash licked their faces clean.
Mercedes was the first to hop from behind the curtain, and collected their photo strip from the deposit box. Blissfully shoving them into the inside pocket of her leather jacket. She smoothed out the ruffles in her white sundress before exploring the rest of the mini-mart. Her eyes immediately targeted the liquor section. Schnapps and cheap vodka would be their friend.
Sam tucked himself back into his jeans and followed close by with a mild jaunt in his step. Pretending to look around, he reached for the travel sewing kit on display in the cramped aisle, while Mercedes headed for the idle cashier.
The teen tucked her veil under her arm, walking toward the cash register. She placed her items on the counter.
"May I see some I.D.?"
"I'm not 21," Mercedes stated bluntly.
"I can't sell this to you, ma'am."
"But see, it's my wedding day." She stood back to give him the full affect of her ensemble. Sam chuckled from afar, gliding a few ball point pens into his back pocket. "I got married. How am I suppose to toast?"
"We've got some Arizona Teas in aisle three." His gaze returned to his worn out copy of To Kill a Mockingbird and the gnawing of his beef jerky.
"Please," Mercedes pleaded with her innocent, chestnut eyes, throwing in a hearty bite of her bottom lip for good measure. "Can't deny a poor girl on the day she's betrothed."
Indifferent to her charms, the cashier glanced over his book and glowered. "Either find something else or leave."
"Alright, then," she simpered, casually looking around the counter. Dancing her fingers atop the dollar Bic lighters on sale. With a thoughtless nudge, she knocked the vodka onto the floor, cringing at the sound of its shatter. "I'm so sorry. Wow, I'm sorry."
"You know what? Please leave."
"Okay, okay." Mercedes grabbed the clear blue lighter and tentatively flicked it on. "We just wanna get our stuff and leave." She lowered it toward the spilt vodka. "We don't want any problems."
The shaken cashier raised his hands in submission. "No problems."
The Colgate smile spread wide across Mercedes features, grabbing the remaining liquor from the counter under her arm, and giggled at the lighter in hand. "I guess this is my something blue."
Sam edged his way down the aisle and headed for the door, waiting for his blushing bride. He cleared his throat toward her, catching her attention. "Baby, M&Ms," he nudged.
"Oh, right." Mercedes nabbed two bags of the peanut kind before nodding at the cashier. "You have a great and blessed day," she beamed, running towards the glass door.
They hopped into the old black Mustang parked out front, downright giddy as their tire screeched out of the parking lot and into the barren landscape.
They hadn't stopped moving since the day before.
A few bored texts between them in homeroom spiraled into a long weekend of love declarations in Mercedes' bedroom. Parents were never there at her house, while Sam's were always there. Poking and prodding and telling him that Jones girl was bad news. "She's got no one to answer to," his folks would say. "You can't trust someone like that in the long run."
But she was his heart.
Before Sam knew it, it was midnight and he was throwing pebbles at her bedroom window. Telling her that he had his dad's car, and they could go anywhere that they wanted to go. Be whomever they wanted to be. Do whatever the hell they wanted to do. Mercedes never questioned it, instead climbed down the trellis and jumped into her boyfriend's arms.
That was a tank and a half of gas, two rest stops and a full flask of whatever Mercedes kept in her garter belt ago.
They tried not to snicker through the nuptials. Although solemn vows to never always share their popsicles with each other and to never bring up DC comics during an argument was worth a laugh or two. They weren't even out of the courthouse before murmurings of "those stupid kids" filtered through the elevator; much to Mercedes' amusement and Sam's annoyance.
They listened to his parents' voicemails on the phone. "Sam, are you okay? You weren't in your room this morning." "Sam, where the hell are you? This isn't like you." "Fine, if this is how you want to behave..." By the fifteenth message, Sam tossed it at mile marker near the border.
Mercedes laid her legs outside of the window as Sam sped down the highway, embracing the open air of the road. With the radio blasting and Sam's free arm resting around her shoulder, things felt right. Felt perfect.
She took a swig from her flask to dull the pain of the needle. With her legs spread open atop the trunk of the car, the brown girl began snicker at each prick.
"'Cedes, quit moving. It's not gonna look right if you keep moving," Sam instructed. He held still his blushing bride's leg, stretching the skin as he repeatedly pierced the plushness of her inner left thigh with the sewing needle. Pausing ever so often to dip the point in the ink. The makeshift dots soon revealed themselves to be a broad heart whose tip curved into an "S."
The young blond used the sleeve of his dress shirt to blot out the excess ink, soon pouring rest of the booze on it to dull the pain. "All done." He kissed the innermost part of her thigh in culmination.
Mercedes cupped his jaws, raising him up for a gratifying kiss. Coyly tonguing his top lip, she grinned, intertwining her fingers with his. He gently hissed at the pain in his left hand, to which she lifted. "It'll take a few days to heal." She inspected the freshly-dotted tattoo on his ring finger. An arrow that wrapped around with its tail shaped like an "M." She peppered the ink with tiny kisses before taking his long digit into her mouth.
Sam sucked in his pout, his eyes alight from her wantonness. He dragged his fingers across her face; his thumbs toyed with her chubby cheeks as he pecked her nose.
"No one's allowed at this part of the campsite," they heard behind a far off bench. They teens shielded themselves from the flashlight that soon shined in their direction, even more so than the badge.
"Sorry, officer," Sam offered. "We were just getting ready to go."
"Where are your folks?"
The boy shook his head, "They're... at the hotel."
"Really?" The cop shifted through his back pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He glanced and soon gave the teens a once over "Because you both look a whole lot like the kids we've been looking for."
Mercedes chimed in, the more convincing liar of the two, and leaned over at the folded up flyer, "Those are some good looking people, but I'm sorry, they're not us."
Sam helped his bride down off of the car trunk and led her towards the passenger seat, bypassing the deputy in khaki brown.
"I'm gonna ask to see some identification." His request fell on deaf ears as Sam cleared the sewing kit off the top of the trunk, and reached for the half-empty bottle of vodka that remained, when the officer walked up towards him. "I'm definitely gonna need I.D. now. How old are you?"
"I told you we were leaving," Sam rushed towards the driver's door, when the officer grabbed him. His gruff hand yanked the teen back. "Hey, watch it!"
"Come with me" was all that could be heard as Sam tried to wrestle against the seizure of his collar. But, it was soon muted by a hard thud and the officer's grip grew limp.
The older man brush the back of his head, only to feel blood. Turning around, he puled at the culprit before collapsing on the ground.
"Mercedes..." Sam stood agape with shock as he watched her hovering with the vodka bottle in hand.
She gulped. Non-stop gulping as her chest heaved. "Get in the car," she whispered.
"Mercedes-"
"In the car, Sam. We've gotta go." She stretched out her hand, hoping that he would take hers in stride.
The soft groans on the concrete let him know he only had moments to make a decision. Each step was hesitant as he treaded over the body.
He reached across, avoiding Mercedes' hand and instead snatched the bottle away from her. "C'mon. Let's go." Sam handed her the keys to the car, and walked over to the passenger side, slamming the door beside him when he got in.
Resting his head against the open window, Sam listened as his bride adjusted the driver's seat and turned on the ignition. The blaring of the radio suddenly felt coarse, causing Mercedes to thumb off the volume.
Mercedes tried not to fret as she pulled onto the dark, quiet highway. Brief glances at him from the corner of her eyes made her solemn. Moments later, she broke her silence, "Next rest stop, we'll call your parents. They can come and get you, if you'd like. I know they'll be happy."
Her words shook him from his thoughts against the breeze. Turning over towards the driver's seat, he watched her heartbroken eyes flicker between him and the road. Sam meekly shook his head and rested his hand on top of hers above the center console.
"Not a chance," the boy breathed, leaning against the headrest. He watched the dotted yellow lines in the center of the road lull him to sleep. This was one hell of a wedding day.
A/N: Tell me what you think, if you'd like. I'm going to go do something productive now, like eat some vegetables or watch RuPaul's Drag Race reunion special. Later.
