Page 18 of Curious
My attempt to get married for love failed hard. I’m good with getting married for health insurance.
Still, some part of me wishes it were a real wedding. Some part of me wants that commitment.
Charlie passes over a boutonniere, and I pin it onto Shelby, who looks surprised I thought of it. Then Charlie pins mine on me. We bought what the florist had already made, but thankfully the simple pink rose matches the accents in Shelby’s floral-print shirt.
Shelby has already taken the clipboard they give you and filled out a lot of the form in his neat, blocky writing. He hands it to me, and I do my best to finish, ignoring how much my hand is shaking.
I hobble up to the line for the clerk’s window with Shelby, where we wait behind a few other couples. Some are dressed up, obviously getting married today, while others are just picking up the license for a later ceremony.
We watch as the clerk comes out from behind the counter, stands before a couple, and has them say vows. The newlyweds exchange rings and kiss, and the room is all smiles and applause.
There’s a fluttery feeling in my stomach, and my whole body tingles in anticipation.
Before long, it’s our turn. In a way, this feels like losing my virginity. That moment when I was naked, in an empty house, with my girlfriend. We’d talked about doing it and messed around plenty, but actually holding the condom, tearing the foil, and rolling it on made everything seem like, once I did it, there was no turning back.
There’s no turning back here, either. Well, let me check. I lean over to whisper into Shelby’s ear, my lips brushing his skin. “You still good with this?”
“Yeah,” he whispers back, and I see goose bumps rise on the back of his neck. “You?”
“Yeah, I am.” With my heart pounding, I hand over the forms, our driver’s licenses, and a credit card. Shelby tries to pay, but I insist.
Behind my back, I can feel my brother’s eyes boring holes into me. I’m sure he’s having a silent “WTF?” conversation with Alden.
“Okay, confirming you’re Mr. Camden Cooper?” the clerk asks, looking between us and scanning our identification.
“That’s me,” I say, swallowing hard.Moment of truth. I fuss with my tie, which is hard to do while leaning on crutches. Shelby comes over in front of me to straighten it, and I notice how good he smells. He looks up at me and smiles, and my breath quickens.
“Then you’re Mr. Shelby Borchard?” the clerk says.
“I am!” Shelby sounds chipper. Once everything is set, the clerk comes around the counter and has us hold hands off to the side of the office. Alden stands just behind Shelby, while Charlie is next to me. He puts a hand on my shoulder, and it’s soothing.
Everyone in the room is looking at us, just the way we were looking at the couples before us.
I regulate my breathing. My ankle hurts, but I set that pain to the side. My cheeks are burning, and my hands are trembling. I’m glad my brother is here. I’ve set my crutches down and taken hold of Shelby’s hands. They’re clammy, and I’m trying to warm them up. They’re also steadying me.
But then he looks up at me with those liquid brown eyes, and my chest feels light. My pulse races, and my mouth goes dry.
After asking us a few more questions, the clerk begins the ceremony. “Do you, Camden, take this man, Shelby, to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, to have and to hold from this day forward until death do you part?”
“I do,” I say, and I squeeze Shelby’s hands. He gives me a small, genuine smile.
“Do you, Shelby, take this man, Camden—”
Holy shit, I’m getting married. I don’t know why it took this long for it to sink in. Something about that fact makes me giddy, and I want to burst out laughing, but I rein it in. Shelby says, “I do,” and I let out the biggest breath. Part of me—the part still traumatized by Leah—worried that he’d say no. I want to hug him for saying yes. For not humiliating me.
“You may exchange rings, if you have them.”
“Oh. Right.” I pull the two bands out of my pocket, and my fingers tremble all over again.
Reaching over, I again take Shelby’s soft, tan hand in my work-roughened one, and my jitters vanish when he looks up at me, an expression of wonder on his face, his eyes brimming with tears. He swallows, and I want to hug him or something.
Instead, I place my ring on his finger.
It looks good there, and this possessive feeling—that Shelby ismine—rushes through me, even if our situation is temporary.
For now, at least, heismine.
Shelby slips my ring onto my finger. I’m not used to wearing jewelry, but it feels right. Like it’s always been there. And I like being able to give Shelby some stability… for now.
