I should be paying attention to him, but I can’t. These small hands in mine are shaking, and I find myself thinking of ways to calm her down. I want to assure her that we’ll have fun and win this thing. I’m not going to let us fail. I run my thumb over her wrist and find her pulse, pressing down slightly. She calms down some, but not entirely.
We say our vows, but names are conveniently left out. That is something I asked for specifically. I don’t want anyone, including my new wife, to know my identity until after we’ve sealed the deal. My fear is that she could either rip her blindfold off and run, or marry me simply because of who I am. I like it this way better. It also didn’t escape my notice that the announcer had to ask her for her answer. I have a feeling this might not bode well for me. I could be the first groom in the show’s history to be left at the house, alone. With no wife, I’d have no chance at the money.
When I slip on her ring, she seems lost, and as much as I like the concept of not seeing her until after, I’m not sure she’s even paying attention. Shouldn’t she be eager and listening to what’s going on? Once the ring is on, which feels entirely too foreign, I hold her hands again. We’re pronounced husband and wife, and I do what seems natural in this moment. I let my hand travel up her arm, over her shoulder, to her neck until I’m finally cupping her cheek. Her skin pebbles under my touch, a reaction I haven’t felt from another female in a very long time.
Leaning down, I brush my lips softly against hers. I flinch back and bring my fingers to my lips, feeling the burn that was left behind. It doesn’t take long for my brain to register that I like that feeling, and I go back for another kiss. This time I trace the outside of her lips and my tongue rejoices while my lips balk when I pull away.
Kissing might be on the list, but no sex. That’s where I have to draw the line.
My blindfold is removed, and the crowd lets out a collective gasp. I wave and smile, turning on the charm, and bring my attention back to my now wife. She’s blonde and skinny. Not my type. She’s definitely athletic and only a few inches shorter than I am.
Her blindfold is removed, but her eyes stay focused on the ground. She’s probably not used to the lights like I am. I look at the ring I just placed on her finger and feel nothing but embarrassment and disgust. It’s just a simple solitaire, maybe an eighth of a cut.
“I’ll get you a bigger one,” I blurt out before I know what I’m saying. Did I really just commit to buying her a bigger diamond? Yes, yes I did.
Her head moves so fast, it almost gives me whiplash. I smile at her and throw in a wink. Her face turns beet red, and it’s not from the studio lights overhead. She’s embarrassed. I know that look. She knows who I am.
I try to break eye contact with her, but I can’t because we’re still filming. The producers are eating this shit up when all I want to do is walk off the stage. I’m not mad she knows who I am, I’m upset that she’s wearing a cheap ass ring when I would’ve gotten something better for her.
“Holy shit,” she says before her eyes roll back. I catch her before her head hits the ground, saving her from a concussion.
“Well, will you look at that, Joey Mitchell … I mean Joey Wilson is so taken by her husband’s charm that she’s passed out.”
I roll my eyes, scoop her up, and follow one of the assistants off stage. They direct me to her dressing room, opening the door for us. After I set her down on the sofa, I make sure her legs are covered, but that her dress isn’t getting ruined.
“Can you get me some juice for her?”
I don’t look to see if they’ve followed my directions as I try to make her comfortable. I’m sort of happy that she’s out cold so I can stare at her without being considered a stalker. Her skin is tan, definitely sun-kissed and in perfect contrast to her blonde hair. If I were to see her on the street, I probably wouldn’t give her a second glance because I normally don’t go for blondes, but something tells me that she’s my match. It’s too bad we’ll only know each other for a few months.
Her eyes flutter open, and I find myself quickly mesmerized by the light blue, almost gray color. I’ve heard of this color, but have yet to see it until now.
“Hi, Joey.”
She squints her eyes and recoils farther into the couch. “How do you know my name?”
“Dick VanPeriwinkle said it after you passed out.”
“Is that his name?” she asks, trying to stifle her laughter.
“I don’t know actually, but it sounds funny.”
Joey tries to sit up, and I’m just eager enough to help her. I like the way I feel when I’m touching her. It’s like serenity. She makes me feel like I belong.
“Are you real?” she asks just as she pokes me in the forehead.
“I’m not going to pop, if that’s what you think.”
Sighing, she glances at the door before she looks at me. “I don’t know what to think. This seems all too surreal.”
I run my hand through my hair and decide to sit down next to her. “Yeah, I guess getting married to a stranger can be surreal.”
Her head starts shaking back and forth very slowly. “The surreal part is that I’m married to you.”
Someone pinch me. No, that’s not good enough. Someone needs to slap me across the face, repeatedly, so I can wake the hell up. This can’t be happening. I’ve dreamt of meeting him, of shaking his hand and having a photo taken with him. Those are my daydreams. At night, this is the man that I’ve fantasized about, the one I have wet dreams about, the one I play The SiMS with on the computer and have wild monkey sex with over and over again. He’s sitting next to my sprawled out body, running his hands through his hair and telling me its surreal being married to a stranger?
Um, I’m married to Joshua freaking Wilson. It doesn’t get any more surreal than that!
I try to sit up by myself, but no, he has to touch me. Why is this happening to me? I know this has to be some sort of joke, right? Am I on some sort of I feel sorry for you, so I’m going to marry you game show? Joshua Wilson does not need to come on Married Blind to find a wife! He has a girlfriend. I always see her in the tabloids and I hate her. She’s pretty and perfect and everything I’m not.