A.N.: This isn't really an update. I just finally went back and rewrote the sections that were irritating me. Most of the changes are fairly minor in all but the prologue, but now that I'm no longer annoyed, I'm no longer dealing with writer's block, either. I'll go start working on the next chapter now, so even though hate mail makes me giggle, y'all can stop sending it.


"I Blame the Llamas"

~Venus Smurf


Prologue: Meet the Schmuck


Christian is a liar. Really, he is. He may be charming (on rare occasions and only when he wants something), he may be gorgeous (though I will deny admitting this), and he may be intelligent (at least compared to, oh, I dunno, an orangutan), but he's still a liar.

I still can't understand why anyone ever believes any of the crap he spews—especially the lies he tells about me and the day we met. I mean, seriously, can you really see me walking up to some random stranger and dumping a can of paint on his head? And in the middle of a five-star restaurant, no less?

…okay, don't answer that. I didn't, though.

I kicked him in the nuts.

And for your information, my first words to him were not: "Are you really the best evolution could do?"

Pfft. Again, I kicked him in the nuts. Nothing I could have said would have been better than that…and words would just have been drowned out by his little girl whimpers anyway.

Still, don't even get me started on Mia's hidden attraction garbage. Trust me—when a girl wants a guy to notice her, she dresses up and flirts. She doesn't switch the guy's shampoo with peroxide or hide a dead fish in the engine of his car. (And, yes, I'm still laughing over the fish. Good times, good times…)

And while this should go without saying, I certainly did not, at any point, finally declare my undying love and then faint into Christian's arms.

Please. I may be about to marry the idiot, but that's just so…so…oh, I don't even know what it is. Stupid. Clichéd. Ridiculous.

And only partially true.

I really must have been high when I agreed to this, though. Or maybe he blackmailed me into it. I honestly can't remember, but either way, I'm still here, stuck in this stuffy room in an equally stuffy church, wearing a stupid white dress I'm not even sure I like.

And of course nobody is listening to me when I say that I could have dressed myself, or that I refuse to wear make-up and don't need to comb my hair. They're ignoring me whenever I insist that this was all a big mistake and I'm not ready for marriage. They don't even listen when I confess that Christian is really an escaped mental patient and an axe-murderer, and that it'll be entirely their fault when I'm found dead the day after the wedding.

Didn't even bat an eye over that last one.

I think I should be offended.

Still, axe-murderer or not, this doesn't change the fact that I'm freakin' getting married. To Christian, of all people!

I'm not sure I like him, either.

And, honestly, what does he think I'm going to do—change my mind and call it off? He truly seems to believe that I'm gonna hop out the window and bail on my own wedding or something.

Where's the love? Where's the trust?

And, no, it doesn't matter in the slightest that he's absolutely right. So I am planning on running away…just gotta wait for these traitors to untie me.