Extra Bonus #73: The Drunk Wedding (Patreon)

IMPORTANT: Please do not screenshot and post any part of this bonus scene to other sites or share with non-patrons. All of the Patreon content is exclusive to Patreon and for current patron's eyes only.  Thank you!! xoxo Krista & Becca

RESOURCES:  Check out this narrative timeline graphic to visually see when this bonus scene takes place.

MUSIC: We listened to "Stupid Love" by Lady Gaga while writing this bonus scene.

THE CLUB is electric with a capital E. Who needs batteries or a heartbeat when you can be fueled by motherfucking music? I try and tell that to Jack. Actually, pretty sure I yell it.

“What?!” he screams back over the deep thudding bass. Someone bumps into his shoulder, and it’s not the paparazzi he’s been dealing with or angry Oslie stans. It’s just the normal run-of-the-mill club goer who’s feeling the music and doesn’t notice that his enthusiastic bouncing is invading peoples’ space.

Jack protects his plastic cup of lemonade and vodka like it’s an egg that Health Class gave him to nurture and care for.

I have the same mixed drink in hand, and this lemonade came from a box of cheap bar mix. So I wouldn’t bat an eye if it fell to the sticky club floor.

I’m so mesmerized by the way he’s tucked his plastic cup to his chest that I just scream back, “Batteries! Heartbeats!” It made more sense in my head.

Aw, fuck. I’m drunk.

I laugh.

Jack laughs. “Batteries and heartbeats!” He screams it like a mantra. We’re celebrating tonight. He’s not fired. I’m done training my newest temp. It feels good to just feel and not have worries or cares for the night. Even better to feel things with him.

A remixed Lady Gaga song starts playing and we find ourselves jumping up and down with the crowds. Sweat drips down my temples, wets my hair, and Jack holds out his lemonade-vodka baby for me to sip. I take a sip from his.

He takes a sip from mine.

We continue to dance. Halfway through another Gaga song, I lose my cup somehow. I’ll blame it on the dancing.

My tank suctions to my chest, and I peel it off over my head before sticking the fabric in my back pocket. It halfway hangs out of my jeans, but it’s so motherfucking hot in here.

Jack’s still bouncing, but I notice his drink is empty.

“Let’s refill your lemonade baby!” I yell to Jack and take his hand in mine.

“Did you just call me baby?!” His million-watt smile could melt the ozone. I called his lemonade the baby, but do I really want to puncture that grin?

“Maybe I did!” I shout back.

His smile only brightens. Mission success.

I grin. “You’re cradling your lemonade like a newborn, Long Beach! Lemonade baby.”

It dawns on him, and he looks to my hands for my cup. “What about your lemonade baby?”

“Abandoned!” I yell over the chorus of the remixed beat.

His eyes go wide like I just dropped off an actual human child at a firehouse.

“It disappeared!” I rephrase. “Abracadabra!”

That makes him laugh and seeing his laugh pulls at my lips. He keeps his cup tucked to his chest still. “Let’s get you a new lemonade baby then!” he says, dragging me by the hand.

We stumble to the bar together when an old Madonna song blasts. I wince, and Jack gives me a funny look. “I thought you liked Madonna?” he asks.

“Love Madonna. Never been a fan of ‘Material Girl’—the beat just doesn’t do it for me.” I drop his hand to put my arm over his broad shoulder as we pass more club goers.

Jack bops his head to this one anyway. “Still rad.”

“Rad,” I say into a wide smile just as we reach the cramped bar. Leaning an elbow on a sliver of space, I’m wedged close to a tall blond guy who could pass as a Skarsgård brother. I angle my head back to my date. “You sure you don’t have a palm tree tattooed on your ass.” I make a show of checking out Highland’s ass.

Jack’s grinning, but then he notices the blond bastard checking him out too and his smile falls instantly. No. No.

No one makes meu raio de sol frown.

I glare. “Hey!” I yell over the music. “He’s mine!” I pull Jack closer to me by fisting his Billabong T-shirt and then hook an arm back over his shoulder.

The blond bastard rolls his eyes. “I was just looking.”

I stare him down. He’s a second from puffing out his chest.

“Look elsewhere, dude,” Jack says casually, but I realize the drunker he gets the more he says dude. My smile might as well be tattooed to my face. Call me lovesick because that’s what my ass feels right now. Drunk on some stupid love. Thank you, Gaga, for that one.

“Whatever.” The blond bastard takes his drink and moves towards the dancefloor.

That’s right. Scram. Tonight, the world belongs to me and Highland.

I order us another couple drinks, and Jack sways in my arms. Am I swaying too? Possssibly. Legitimately just having a good night.

Jack looks at me.

The best night.

“Cheers,” I hold out his filled cup to him. The world feels fuzzy like I’m in one of those old school movies where everything’s kind of grainy. Nothing’s clear. But I hold onto my main focus.

Jack takes the plastic cup from my hand and taps the lip to mine. We keep eye contact as we both take swigs, and then someone bumps up behind Jack. He careens into me and chokes on the mixed drink, the rest of which sloshes all over his Billabong shirt.

I have my hands on either side of his shoulders, steadying him.

“There goes your lemonade baby,” I say into a hearty laugh. “Splat.”

He bursts out laughing. The world spins, and his hand flies to my jaw. Our lips crash together; the smell of lemonade and vodka and sweat is an intoxicating mixture that sends me on overdrive. Batteries. Heartbeats. I’m fueled by Highland.

We break apart when another couple guys try pushing their way to the bar. It’s too crowded to breathe in this heat, so I take his hand and lead him towards the exit. We’re dancing our way there. Both singing “Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen from the top of our lungs, even as fresh air hits my face.

The bouncer barely acknowledges us like he’s seen this a thousand times before. Uh, no he hasn’t. We’re not able to be duplicated. All original. Jack and Oscar. Oscar and Jack. Our names are carved in the sidewalks and written in the clouds.

We slip into an alleyway, rainbow flags hanging out of windows. Without the music, it’s just us singing, finishing up the song with drunken joy.

I’m high on this life.

I never want this night to end.

Jack slides an arm around my shoulder as we finish the song in a heavy breath. His eyes fall to my lips, and we’re both holding onto each other like we might fall to the ground if we let go.

“Highland,” I say his name loudly. Proudly. “You’d make a good husband.” I pat his cheek a couple times. “Husband material. You.”

His lips lift into a wide smile, and he hangs both arms over my shoulders like we’re about to start dancing. “Os, are you asking for my hand in marriage?” He hiccups from the liquor.

I laugh. “In an alleyway?”

We both look around, and maybe I am drunk because this alley is not all bad. The flags. The brick Philly buildings. The intimacy of the night and it just being us here. Now.

Jack follows my gaze around the alley and then this motherfucker drops to a knee.

“Highland.” I’d think he was fucking with me, if it weren’t for his expression.

He’s all grins. “Marry me, Os.”

I drop down to my knees to grab his face in my hands. “You’re drunk.”

“You’re drunk,” he counters like a fifth grader, still smiling.

Aw, shit. He’s making me grin. He’s doing something to my brain because all reason starts to leave me as I think about Jack and me. Me and Jack. Husbands. Reason comes back for a split second as I say, “We’ll change our minds in the morning.”

“Then let’s do it tonight,” Jack says. “Let’s not have tomorrow ruin this.” He’s throwing all life plans out of the window. Or maybe he’s creating a new one. It’s hard to even think logically about this. I’m drowned in the feelings of the night, and his jock strength is gripping onto me, literally. His hands are clasping me like I might drift away, but I only want to drift forward.

I kiss him. Let’s do it.

And then I teleport. Not literally. But it feels like that. I’m not sure how we get from point A to point B, but I assume it was my right foot and left foot leading me there. Two feet. Love my feet. They do me proud.

We’re standing outside a closed Cobalt Diamonds store, and I’ve put my shirt back on as the night wind grows cooler.

“You sure she’s coming, dude?” Jack asks, leaning back against the wall, avoiding a puddle on the cement. I hope it’s just a puddle.

I hyper fixate on that for a second.

“Os?” Jack nudges my shoulder.

“Maggie, yeah,” I say. “She said she’s coming.” I got off the phone with her ten minutes ago, and I asked if she’d come open the store after-hours for us to purchase rings. She didn’t hesitate to say yes. She’s done it for me before.

Still, I send her a quick text: ETA?

She’s fast to respond.

Finding parking now! - Maggie

I slip my phone back in my pocket, and say, “She’ll be here in a second.” I look him over. “Cold feet?”

“Hot feet,” he replies. “They’re burning alive. Wanna feel?” He’s bending down to untie his laces.

I grab his elbow. “I believe you, meu raio de sol. You’re made from the sun.”

His eyes dance over mine. “How do you know Maggie?” he asks, concern pitching his voice.

I look him over. “Highland. You jealous?”

He tries to act cool, shaking his head. Then he gives in and nods. “Just wondering if the girl who’s helping us get rings is one you’ve slept with.”

“Legitimately did not sleep with Maggie,” I tell my boyfriend. Wait…he’s not my boyfriend anymore.

“Why are you smiling?” Highland narrows his eyes.

“You. Are. Fiancé.” I tap his cheek and kiss him.

He laughs against my lips, and it rumbles deep in his chest. He pulls back to say, “Okay, okay. You didn’t sleep with Maggie. So like…how do you two know each other?”

“You mean: why would some random girl drop everything in the middle of the night to help us?”

“Yeah.”

I grin. “I have that kind of charm, Highland. It’s just who I am.” I spread out my arms, opening myself up to this glorious world.

Before he can reply, Maggie rounds the corner in a brisk pace. Curly brown hair, light brown skin, and beige joggers. “Sorrysorry,” she says hurriedly. “Parking was a nightmare on Chestnut.” She grins as soon as she stops in front of the store. “Oscar.”

“Maggie,” I say in greeting.

Jack goes rigid.

I put a hand on his head. “My fiancé thinks we…fornicated.” I emphasize the last word with all the drama my drunk ass can muster.

Jack's eyes go wide. “No.” He doesn’t explain further just looks to me and says, “Dude.”

Maggie laughs. “We didn’t ever hook up. No worries there.” She’s pulling a set of keys from her black leather crossbody purse.

Jack still hasn’t loosened up. So I explain finally, “We had Anatomy and Physiology together at Yale. It was one of the harder classes—”

“And I came down with mono thanks to an asshole I was dating back then,” she says swiftly, bumping open the door with her hip. “Oscar was nice enough to record the lectures and lend me all his notes so that I didn’t have to drop the class. Not that it mattered anyway. I ended up switching my major to business.”

She leads us inside, flicking on the lights to the store.

Jack nods over and over like he’s taking it in: what Maggie said and the room full of glass displays.

Maggie continues talking as she walks down an aisle. “So I majorly owe Oscar here, and I’ve been giving him after-hours access to the store, but it’s usually for Charlie.” She stops at a display case, her face lighting up. “Not that I don’t like Charlie and his whole ‘mystery boy’ aura, but I have to say helping with this is better.” Her smile widens. “I’m just happy I can be a part of this.”

Jack gets over his jealously as if it came and went with the breeze. Maybe that’s the vodka still in his system. The room spins a little, but I’m still riding the euphoria.

“That one,” Jack says, pointing to a ring.

I blink. “That fast?”

“I know what I want when I see it,” he says, his gaze falling to me in a heavy beat. And there goes my heart.

“Oh, trust me,” I say tenderly. “I know.”

We’re both full of smiles as Maggie reaches for the rings. I blink and it’s on my finger.

Teleportation, again?

Fucking really?

I take a steadying breath. Usually I’m more aware of my faculties. Could give two shits tonight. I’m not ending this early. We’re riding this wave, and I think Jack would appreciate the surfing metaphor coasting in my head. Maybe he’s even said it to me before.

Jack stares at his own hand. I’m staring at mine. Then we stare at each other’s.

Maggie looks between us. “If you don’t mind me asking,” she breathes. “Um…how drunk are both of you?”

“Sober,” I say.

“Very sober,” Jack says into a hearty nod. It’s the biggest lie we’ve told tonight.

Maggie laughs. I think she laughs? I do hear her say, “All right, well. If you are wasted, there’s no way for you to legally get married tonight on a whim. So I feel comfortable at least letting you two get this far. Let your drunken love flourish, I say.” She grins wide.

The world is moving in odd ways. But I just keep staring at the white gold rings. Three tiny diamonds are set vertically in the center like an expensive notch. It’s too perfect.

I glance back to Jack, emotions filling me up like I’ve been on empty for so long. Like tonight is the night I’ve been refueled for good. “You get what this is?” I ask him.

He frowns for a second.

I tell him, “Three diamonds to express three classic words from a couple classic gentlemen…” I take a long pause before I end with, “I. Love. You.”

Jack tips his forehead against mine, our heartbeats close to thrumming together. “And here I just like how it looked.”

“You pick it out. I find the meaning,” I tell him. “We’re the best match, Highland.”

“The best,” he agrees heavily. Confidence spins around us, and I pull out my wallet. Jack shakes his head and gives me a look. “Os…”

I glare. “Richie Rich, this is on me.”

“No.” He’s taking out his wallet.

I scoff. “You might be a hot billionaire but—”

He puts a hand over my mouth, shutting me up, and he smiles like touching my lips is the sexiest thing he’s done tonight. Then he says, “Just ride the wave, dude.”

Ride the wave. Aw, shit. He definitely has said that before. I’m falling for him tenfold. No, a billionfold. Infinite-fold? I might still be slightly drunk. Don’t care.

He hands Maggie his credit card and drops his hand from my mouth.

I blink and we teleport back outside. Time flits with the fuzziness in my head, and I’m smart enough to decide we should stop by the liquor store and pick up a bottle of champagne to celebrate.

“Hell yeah,” Jack says into a strong nod.

So we’re drinking out of the same champagne bottle, passing it back and forth as we walk down the streets. I make sure to go down roads where I know we won’t be caught for open carry, and we pass a couple bars finishing up for the night. We discuss how we could get a marriage license tonight, but we realize Maggie was right there’s probably no way to reasonably do it. We have the rings—it’s symbolic enough.

A taxi honks loudly, and I glance over at the wrong moment and barrel into some guy exiting a bar. “Oof!” he groans, taking two steps back.

I rub my shoulder.

His sweater is an ugly brown with a design that looks pulled from a nineties sitcom dad’s closet. Let’s be honest here, it looks like vomit.

Don’t think about vomit.

The guy twists to me. “Sorry, man.” He glances to my side. “Wait…Jack?”

Jack frowns. “Edgar?”

Two more guys spill out of the bar. “No fucking way,” one of them says. “Highland?!”

Jack’s grinning. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”

“We live here, dipshit,” Edgar says with a friendly laugh. Huh.

The guy in a plain white tee says, “Gotta check the group chat more than once a month, man.”

Group chat?

I skim my fiancé, up and down.

Jack nods with a friendly laugh. “My bad. For sure.” He quickly turns to me. “Uh…Oscar, these are my fraternity brothers. Edgar.” He motions to the plain white tee guy. “Mason.” He points to a guy with glasses. “And Kevin.”

I notice Kevin’s glasses aren’t the nerdy kind, but rather the kind that you see in fashion magazines geared towards men. Frat bros.

Lovely.

“Hey, man,” Edgar nods in greeting.

I nod back, less guarded than I might be if we ditched the champagne idea. They’re staring at me like they know me already. News. Entertainment TV. Magazines. We’ve made some headlines with our kiss in public outside Woody’s and talk of the sinking Oslie ship. These frat bros might already be caught up on Jack’s relationship status.

Which is me.

Jack grins, and it fills me with joy when he so joyfully says, “So yeah, we’re engaged.” He holds up a steady hand like he’s getting it X-rayed. No flourish or wave. It’s such a frat bro thing to do that I almost laugh.

His fraternity brothers gather in like a gaggle of geese and start clapping him on the back in congratulations. “Dude, that’s fucking awesome,” Mason says.

“Sick ring,” Edgar says.

“When’s the wedding?” Kevin asks.

“Whenever we feel like it,” Jack says. “We’d do it tonight if the courthouse was open.”

“Technically it doesn’t have to be open,” Mason tells him and glances to Edgar.

“This is perfect timing, bro,” Edgar says into a wide smile, exchanging a look between all of his frat brothers like they know something we don’t know.

Don’t love being in the dark, but I have a feeling this Scooby Doo mystery benefits me somehow. And if Vomit Sweater here can help me out tonight, I will do what Jack says and just ride the wave.

Anyway, maybe it is fate.

MASON BUYS US another bottle of champagne. But I am light as air already from the first bottle tonight. Like why does Red Bull say they give you wings because champagne—Jesus, shit, that stuff really makes me feel like I can fly.

Edgar’s office is a normal lawyer type space. Oak desk. A single window. Some pictures framed on the wall of Philly skylines. It’s not a bad setup. I swallow the bubbly liquor and pass it back to Oscar.

My frat brothers are filling out our paperwork for us. Asking questions when they need to. Oscar watches them from our corner. “Just so you’re aware,” Oscar whispers to me. “You’re my favorite frat bro.” He looks from me to Edgar. “But these ones aren’t so bad.”

“They’re cool dudes,” I agree. Nice as hell. They’d literally do anything for me, and I know that if they were in trouble or needed something, I’d be there too. But Mason is right—I need to check our group chat more.

I tilt my head to him. “But you’re cooler.”

He looks me up and down. “Classic Highland compliment.”

“Appreciate it?”

“Appreciated,” he says. “But I’d rather pour the compliments on you tonight.”

I nod slowly. “That just means I’m going to have to give them twice as hard to you in return.”

He mumbles something that I can’t hear fully. I think it’s about batteries? But then he says, “You already fill me up.”

I smile. “Technically, you fill me up, dude.”

He pats my cheek, eyeing my lips. “Touché, meu raio de sol. Touché.”

“All right, we’re almost done here,” Edgar calls out. “I just need some John Hancocks.”

Cocks, I mouth to Oscar.

He busts out laughing and takes my hand, pulling me closer to the desk.

“Where do you need my Hancock?” I ask Edgar and then slowly cringe. Didn’t mean to say it like that. Could have just said signature. Jesus, fuck. Oscar is grinning at me and he hooks an arm around my shoulder.

“I confess,” I say casually, coolly. “I’m fucking drunk.”

“No shit, dude,” Edgar laughs. “But I can tell you both are in love. And if you regret this shit, just get it annulled when you’re sober tomorrow. It’s no biggie.”

“Plus, if you don’t regret it, the story is going to be fucking epic,” Mason says.

Kevin nods. “Worth it.”

I never thought I’d do something this spontaneous, this unforeseen with my life. Maybe that’s why I’m aching to go through with it ten thousand times more.

And they’re right. If this is how we get married—on a whim in our drunken love, then we have the most epic story of them all.

I take the pen from Edgar.

Oscar has one in his grip. We both look at each other with a heavy beat. “Let’s do this,” Oscar says into a strong nod and then he says my words from earlier, “Ride the wave with me.”

Every swell.

Every morning.

Every night.

I want that with him.

“Every time,” I say.

Oscar moves closer, hand on my jaw. He breathes out, “Estou apaixonado por você.” My lungs inflate with raw happiness, already knowing what it means. He's said it before, but he still translates again. “I’m in love with you.”

Emotions surge in me. “I love you too, Os.”

Together, we both lean down over the desk and sign our names. Suddenly, there’s a rush of relief. Like this is how it’s supposed to be. This is how it’s meant to be. My frat brothers start chanting, “kiss, kiss, kiss!”

Oscar and I don’t really need the encouragement. We’re already moving towards each other, lips igniting in a tender kiss that deepens in heart-thumping seconds. We break away to thunderous applause. Edgar, Mason, and Kev pour themselves some champagne to celebrate, and we finish off the next bottle in record time.

Oscar looks at his watch. “Time to go home, Husband.”

Husband. My heart swells two sizes too fucking big. It’s going to bust out of my chest.

“I’ll call you two a car,” Edgar says, already on his cell.

We leave his office and stumble our way into the Uber. My world has started to spin every time I close my eyes, so I try my best not to blink longer than a split second.

I might be drunker than Oscar.

No, I definitely am drunker than Oscar. I don’t remember leaving the car, but he’s helping me into his Hell’s Kitchen studio apartment.

“Just wait here.” He leans me beside the bar counter while he goes and locks the apartment door behind us.

I see the couch in the distance. Jesus, fuck. It’s not that far. I got this.

I take a step towards the furniture. My legs are made of gelatin. I wobble and careen into the living room, colliding into an end table with a lamp. I try and protect the lamp, and in doing so, I fall on my ass.

“Shit!” Oscar shouts and runs to me.

“Did I hurt the lamp?” I ask, sitting on the floor.

He’s looking between me and the end table. “No, but you definitely bruised your ass.”

“Can you check it for me?” I wonder. I try pulling off my pants.

“Oscar?” Joana calls out from the loft. “Is that you?!” 

Oscar puts a hand on my hand, stopping me from undressing. “Yeah, Jo! Go back to bed!”

“Is everything okay though?” she asks. “It sounded like someone fell!”

“We’re fine,” Oscar assures.

“Hey, Jo!” I call out because it’s the polite thing to do. Oscar gives me a look to shut up, but I know my manners.

“Hey, Jack!”

“Sorry for waking you!” I call back.

Oscar rolls his eyes and then adds quickly, “Bed, Jo!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she scoffs and then I hear some shuffling before she’s quiet again. Oscar unfolds the couch into a pullout, and then he helps me onto the mattress. My head is pounding, but I just curl up into him.

“You sure my ass is going to be okay?” I ask as he snuggles closer into my chest.

He puts a hand on my ass cheek and squeezes. “How does that feel?”

“Tender.”

He makes a noise in his throat. Headiness passes between us. We’re both turned on, but sleep is a villain that’s coming for us now that we’re lying down in bed. “I don’t want this night to end,” I say, fear bubbling up.

He kisses my forehead.

“Dude,” I snap, offended. “Was that a goodnight kiss?”

“Hmmm.” He’s too tired to respond fully. I’m grasping at anything to just remain awake. How drunk am I that I can’t force myself to be here in the present?

“Oscar,” I whisper under my breath so I don’t wake Joana in the loft. “I really don’t want to go to sleep.”

He touches my jaw. “It’s okay,” he whispers back, eyes shut.

“Why?” It doesn’t feel okay.

“Because…we’ll still be…together…in the…morning.” He drifts with those words, and I hang onto each one.

Thanks so much for reading this month's extra bonus! This one was a long time coming. It's been in our list ever since we wrote Charming Like Us. And we're so very excited that we finally got to dive into it. Oscar and Jack have that feel good love that just sends rays of sunshine into our hearts. We love these two so very much, and we hope you all enjoyed this bonus! 

We're all caught up on bonus scenes for this month, but there's still two podcasts coming to you this week. So keep on the lookout! 

xoxo Krista & Becca

“The Drunk Wedding," Copyright © 2023 by K.B. Ritchie