My head hurts. Why does my head hurt?
I think I'm hung over.
This is new.
This is bad.
I didn't even really know I could get drunk, much less be hung-over from it. I can stop a speeding car with my bare hands, but I can still get hung-over? Not cool.
Okay, just think. Just try to remember. I'm lying in bed, my eyes tightly closed. I do not want open them. I'm not used to headaches.
Why did I get drunk? I don't drink.
And then it hits me.
Or, more specifically, Lana and Pete. Lana and Pete kissing, if you want to be exact.
We were all in Vegas as a graduation celebration. Lex had flown Pete, Lana, Chloe and me out. He put us in a nice hotel and was paying for our meals. He had even made us all fake ids, though none of us were planning on using them.
I was having fun. The hotel was amazing, with a huge pool and all sorts of other cool stuff. We had seen a couple of shows. It was great. Then I walked in on Pete making out with Lana, the girl I had been in love with for years.
I knew that Lana and Pete had grown closer over our senior year, but I didn't dream that anything was going on between the two of them. Sure, Lana and I had never actually had anything resembling a successful relationship, but it still sucked to see them together.
Apparently, I decided to deal with it by taking advantage of my new fake driver's license. I went to the hotel bar and got completely wasted. Oh, god. I hope my parents don't find out. They'll kill me. And Lex too, probably.
Suddenly, I hear movement beside me. There's somebody in my room. I should have noticed right away, but I guess I was too distracted by my current state. Maybe it's Chloe. Our rooms do have a connecting door, and it'd be just like her to come over without knocking. I don't feel like talking though. Maybe if I pretend to stay asleep she'll leave.
I carefully open one eye, trying to see what's going on. I see a figure sitting on the edge of my bed, and my eyes fly open. That is definitely not Chloe.
"Who are you?" I ask, sitting up fast. I go to stand up, and realize I'm not wearing anything. I pull some of the covers up over my chest.
Why is there a pretty red-headed woman sitting on my bed? And why is she in a similar state of undress?
She turns, and looks at me. She almost looks terrified.
"I'm...I'm Willow." Her voice is shaking. "And I'm pretty sure I'm your wife."
Well that does it. All thoughts of my hang-over are gone. Bits of memory are coming back to me. I danced with this girl, with this woman, in the bar last night. We were both pretty drunk and then...
"Did you just say you're my wife?"
She nods. "I am if you're Clark Kent. And actually I really hope you are. Because otherwise I got married to a complete stranger, and then slept with another one. And I really don't want that to be my life." As she talks she looks around the room for something. She stands up, a sheet wrapped tightly around her, and makes her way to a pile of clothes on the floor. She dresses quickly and I avert my eyes, feeling my face turning red.
"I'm Clark. But there has to be some some sort of mistake. There's no way that I got married."
Willow raises her hand and a gold band flashes on her finger. "Well, this ring and this marriage certificate say we are. And you've got a ring too."
She points at my hand, and I stare at it. There's a wedding ring there.
I actually got married.
My parents are going to kill me.
"Would you mind putting some clothes on?" she asks, throwing me a pair of pants and a shirt.
"Oh, right. Thanks."
She turns her back and I pull them on.
"So, what are we going to do?" I ask after a moment.
"I don't know."
Suddenly the door connecting my room to Chloe's bursts open.
"Clark!" Chloe calls as she enters the room, "Get a move on, it's almost..." Her voice trails off as a look of shock crosses her face. I'm too embarrassed to meet her eyes.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She looks from me to Willow and then back again. Her face bright red, she backs out of the room. "I'll just come back later then." She quickly closes the door, leaving me alone once more with my wife.
I'm so completely screwed.