Page 50 of Misconducts & Temptation

I stood at the counter, the weight of the dress heavy in my arms. The price tag made my heart race. Keaton had given me his card and told me to choose whatever I wanted, but seeing the numbers made me hesitate. My fingers trembled as I handed over the sleek, black card.

"Are you sure?" I whispered to myself, glancing back at the other dresses that hadn't made the cut. There were simpler ones, less expensive, but they hadn't felt right. This one did. It was perfect.

Nancy, the redhead who had helped me earlier, took the card with a warm smile. "He's a very lucky man," she said as she processed the payment.

Guilt gnawed at me as I watched her swipe the card. It felt wrong to spend so much money, even though Keaton had insisted. I almost asked her to stop, to pick a different dress instead—one that didn't make my stomach churn with anxiety.

But I pushed through it. This was my decision, my moment.

Nancy handed back the card and began wrapping up the dress with practiced care. "Congratulations on your nuptials," she said, her smile genuine as she passed the hook to me.

"Thanks," I murmured, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. The wordnuptialssounded so formal and distant from the whirlwind we were caught in.

I stepped out of the boutique; the dress draped carefully over my arm. The afternoon sun cast long shadows on the pavement as I walked back to Keaton's car. He leaned against it, his eyes scanning the parking lot until they landed on me.

He straightened up and opened the passenger door without a word. Together, we carefully maneuvered the dress into the back seat, ensuring it wouldn't get wrinkled or damaged.

As he closed the door and turned to face me, his intense gaze softened slightly. "Ready?"

I nodded, still feeling the weight of what we'd just done but also a strange sense of exhilaration. "Ready."

Keaton smirked and slid into the driver's seat while I got in on the passenger side. As we pulled away from Nancy's boutique, I couldn't help but steal one last glance at it in the rearview mirror. This was happening—really happening—and despite everything, a small part of me felt ready for whatever came next.

As we drove toward…. wherever, I couldn't help but fidget in my seat. My mind buzzed with questions, doubts, and a creeping sense of disbelief. This was happening too fast—far too fast.

"Doesn't it take time to, I don't know, process a marriage license?" I asked, my voice betraying my unease. "And, you know, get married?"

Keaton glanced over at me briefly before returning his focus to the road. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. "Not if you have money," he said, lighting it with a practiced flick of his lighter.

The smell of smoke filled the car almost instantly, making me wrinkle my nose in distaste. "Do you have to do that around me?" I asked, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

"Is that part of your rules?" he shot back, his tone challenging.

I met his gaze head-on. "Would you respect it if it was?"

For a moment, we stared at each other in a silent standoff. Then, to my surprise, he gave me a look—something between annoyance and reluctant acknowledgment—and doused the cigarette out in the car's ashtray.

The rest of the drive passed in tense silence. My mind raced with thoughts of what lay ahead and whether I was truly ready for this monumental step. Keaton's presence beside me was both reassuring and intimidating, his confidence so different from my own swirling doubts.

When we finally pulled up to the courthouse, I wasn't sure what I felt. The building loomed before us, its stone facade imposing and unyielding. Keaton parked the car and turned off the engine, breaking the silence that had settled between us.

“We’re here,” he murmured.

I nodded, swallowing hard as I reached for the door handle. We stepped out into the afternoon sun together, our footsteps echoing on the courthouse steps.

"You get ready," Keaton said as we stepped inside the courthouse. "I'll get us a judge who will marry us."

I nodded, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me like a heavy cloak. My legs felt like lead as I made my way to the public restroom, my dress clutched tightly in my hands.

Inside, the fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow over the tiled room. The smell of antiseptic filled my nose as I hung the dress on the back of a stall door and took a deep breath. This was it. No turning back now.

I stepped into one of the stalls and began changing out of my clothes, my movements hurried but careful. As I slipped into the dress, its delicate fabric glided over my skin like a whisper. The beaded bodice fit snugly, hugging my curves and giving me an unfamiliar sense of elegance. I took a moment to smooth out the skirt, letting it fall gracefully to the floor.

My hands trembled slightly as I pulled out my small makeup bag from my purse. The mirror above the sink reflected a girl who looked far too young to be making such a life-altering decision. But this was my choice, and I needed to own it.

"Be brave," I whispered to myself, meeting my own gaze in the mirror.

I applied a light layer of foundation, evening out my complexion before adding a touch of blush to bring some color to my cheeks. My hands steadied as I worked, finding solace in the familiar routine. A swipe of mascara brought out the warmth in my green eyes, and a soft pink lipstick completed the look.

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