Every girl has probably been planning their wedding since age six. A girl I know has a whole sketchbook filled with designs of her future wedding dress. The bodice was going to be intricately designed, a tiara was going to adorn the crown of her head, and the train was going to be ten feet long. I’ve never liked weddings. They’re unbearably formal, and I don’t do high heels or small talk. The only upside is the cake.
“We should celebrate,” I say, brandishing a bottle of bourbon in the dim lighting of my apartment. I’m too cheap to buy lamps but not too cheap to buy quality alcohol.
“And what would we be celebrating?” Nick asks, lounging uncomfortably on my garage sale chaise. He looks relaxed for once and his eyes have that glint that I haven’t seen recently.
  “The wedding?” I ask incredulously.
“Right. The wedding,” he says absentmindedly.
  “You know what we should do?” Nick asks contemplatively running his hand lazily through his blond locks.
 “Elope,” I mumble.
“What?” Nick snorts, probably wondering if I’m joking-or possibly drunk already.
  “Elope. With me,” I repeat.
“You’re drunk,” Nick rolls his eyes. “Ask me when you’re sober.”
“I am. I know you hate this as much as I do,” I coax. “You’ll never have to think about flowers again! We’ll go to Vegas. Road trip-just you and me! I’ll even wear a dress if it makes you happy.” I hold his hands as I plead.
“Liz,” he groans.
  “Nick,” I whine when he just stares.
“Coward,” I pout as I cross my arms.
He frowns. “You’re so pushy. And mean.”
  “You know you like it,” I retort. He still shakes his head.
“We could steal the keys to Sasha’s motorcycle and ride off into the sunset together,” I offer.
“Classy,” he says dryly. “But I’m going to have to veto your request.”
I pout. “You know you want to. But fine, have it your way.”
“Now, what would my parents say if I skipped town and eloped with you?” he asks playfully.
“You don’t care what they think. I don’t have to worry about what mine would think. But since you said no to eloping-and basically broke my heart, may I add-we should go get tacos,” I jut out my bottom lip and bat my lashes.
“Now?”
“No, next Monday,” I roll my eyes. He sharply pokes me in retaliation.
“I don’t even like tacos,” he mutters weakly.
  “Liar,” I say as I drag him to my car.
The drive is silent, save for the clunks of my car. I can tell Nick is thinking about the wedding and only the wedding. His heavy brow is furrowed and his hazel eyes look tired.
“Sometimes I really don’t like you,” I say, half-jokingly while staring straight ahead.
“You’re not exactly easy to deal with either, Princess” he replies. I turn to look at him-my green eyes meet his hazel, and I turn away immediately.
  “But you do it anyway,” I finish.
It’s the way it’s always been. We push, we fight, we say things we don’t mean, but we understand and we always forgive.
“Nick, you have to promise me something,” I say uncertainly.
  “Anything.”
  “The wedding-you have to promise that it won’t change anything,” I finish.
“It won’t,” he smiles. I don’t smile back. “Don’t be silly, Fitzgerald. It’s a big step-sure, but I’m still me, you’re still you, we’re still us,” he reassures.
“I believe you.”
I still have a sour feeling in my stomach.
As soon as we get to the familiar Mexican restaurant, and the cashier still knows our orders, it feels like nothing has changed. We eat our tacos on the picnic table outside, as we always have. I savor the crunch of the taco and feel a glob of hot sauce running down my chin.  He laughs. I mock-pout and ball up my napkin and throw it at him. He promptly balls up his napkin and tosses it right back. He’s a real charmer, you know, and real mature.
“This is war!” I yell as I run inside for more napkins.
We end up chasing each other outside of the restaurant, having a napkin-ball fight like six year olds. This may be the most fun I've had in years.
“You promise nothing will change?” I ask him uncertainly on the way home.
“Nothing will change. I promise,” he says reassuringly. “Remember, I love you, Princess” he says sweetly.
“Aww, I love you too,” I say lightly.
Things have already changed.
The night before the wedding, Nick comes by my apartment.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the bachelor party?” I ask.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the bachelorette party?” he returns.
“Fair enough. Why are you skipping out on the celebration of your last night of freedom?”
He shrugs. “I haven’t, uh, exactly finished my vows yet,” he mutters weakly.
I shoot up out of my seat. “What?” I shout.
“I just don’t know what to write. I’ve always been crap at explaining myself,” he says sheepishly.
“I can help you,” I offer.
“Thanks but no thanks--this is supposed to come from me,” he smiles crookedly. I can see his palpable nervousness.
“Don’t worry, Nick. Whatever you write, I’m sure it’ll be beautiful.”
Nick stays up well past midnight writing his vows as I watch Netflix on my couch. "Liz, how do you spell 'acquiesce'?" Nick asks as he chews on his pen cap. God, I've always hated it when he does that.
I momentarily stop crunching on my popcorn. "Why are you using that word if you can't spell it?" I roll my eyes and cough "pretentious!" "It's A-C-Q-U-I-E-S-C-E," I say haughtily.
The day of the wedding, my cousin taps me on the shoulder and I know.
I push the door wide open and see Nick pacing wildly.
“Liz! You shouldn’t be here,” he sputters at first.
“Dapper,” I say, without my usual snark.
“Liz. Thank god,” he says hoarsely. He looks like he’s about to collapse and I catch him. I make him sit down before he passes out.
“Ask me. Ask me again,” he whispers desperately, burying his head in his hands.
“Ask you what?” I ask disbelievingly.
  “Ask me to elope with you. Please.”
  “Cold feet?” I can’t help but snap. “Isn’t it a little late for this?”
“I can’t do this, Elizabeth. Come on, we can leave right now. I know where Sasha keeps the keys. We’ll go to Vegas-just like you wanted.”
“Nick…we can’t,” I sigh.
  “It was a nice thought, though, wasn’t it,” he says. He’s not talking to anyone in particular.
“It was,” I agree, pulling away.
“How am I supposed to know if this is right?” His bravado is gone. He’s stripped down-vulnerable.
“Because you feel it,” I say gently.
“In here,” I place my hand on his heart. He nods. “You’re ready. I’m going to go take my place. You’re going look happy, because you are-and you’re going to recite those vows that you worked so hard on,” I push softly.
“You-you’re too good to me, Fitzgerald,” he laughs softly. “I forgot to tell you, Princess…you look like an actual Princess,” he says as he sweeps a dark brown flyaway back behind my ear.
“Aw, I love you. Even though you can be a major pain,” I say, standing up.
“I love you too, Princess.”
There’s something about his eyes that I notice. It’s now, more than ever, that I want to run away. It doesn’t have to be Vegas, it doesn’t have to be far, it just has to be…not here. But…I know that it’s too much to ask, and that it isn’t fair. I kiss him on the cheek, and tell him that I’ll see him out there.
Instead of going to the main area of the chapel, I make a snap decision and walk out.
After all, I’m not the one he’s marrying.
He may be my prince charming but I’m not his princess.
Maybe we had something once, but not anymore. It’s been over for a long time.
Someone pushes the door open, and I see Sasha, looking beautiful in that intricate wedding dress with the long train and tiara. I see Nick, looking at her like she’s the only woman in the world. My heart crumbles as I walk away, each step heavier than the last.