The Exchange Dare

Chapter Nine: Welcome To The World Of Walking STDs

A/N: I know this was wayyy too fast than usual! Also, longer! [keeping some of my readers' suggestions in mind here] :D

So here come's the breaking news; I might be stopping soon when I go back to boarding school. I cannot guarantee how often I'll post once I leave. Hence, my goal is to post as much as I can before that. xxx Hope you enjoy it!

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Always a pleasure writing for ya'll! (:

[Collin's POV]

My head was throbbing in pain. I had far too much to drink. I could barely stand upright. The guys sure knew how to throw a party. Pushing myself up against the wall, I swung the closest door open. The room was pitch black.

I saw a small outline of a person lying on the bed. I did not know we were expecting guests.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" I snarled.

The room was silent for a while before a quiet voice spoke. I was already feeling stuffed and buzzed. Whoever she was answered but I couldn't quite hear her name.

"I don't care what your name is. Why are you here was my question." I turned my head around a little. The room looked awfully familiar.

"Since this is my room, I don't see where else I should be. Now, why are you here?" she rebutted. 

This couldn't be her room. I remembered every inch of it. It had to be mine.

My mouth was dry and I was growing impatient with the sweating. I had to get to the shoot early in the morning. Why was this intruder ruining my beauty sleep? I need this face to look flawless.

My body alone would do the trick, I thought smugly.

I all but spat, "Because I do whatever the bloody hell I please."

Shoes came off my feet. I needed to knock out before my head exploded from the pain. As I unbuttoned my shirt, I heard the voice speak up again.

"Miles said this was my suite. Get yourself your own suite." Her voice was strong and obstinate.

I paid no attention to her. She sounded like the type that threw tantrums. Please tell me she wasn't one of those rich, spoiled brats.

Not all of them are spoiled, my head chimed.

The ache in my chest had not left me yet. Four months and it still felt like just yesterday. I was still trying to recover but it just kept coming back.

"Miles who?" I started getting out of my pants.

"Miles, the butler?" she said, with hesitation in her voice.

Oh, that old geriatric. Did he forgetfully give my room out to this brat?

I left my boxers on and fell to the bed. "Right. Him."

A scent rushed up my nose, a very familiar scent that I could never miss. It was her perfume. 

Chanel No °5.

I turned over and saw faint brown curls of hair. I couldn't tell if she smelled that food or the sheets but the pieces were starting to come together. 

This wasn't my room. It was hers! 

It came as no surprise that I could recall every detail in here.

Wait, she said this was her room.. so it has to be her! Did this mean she was back? 

Had she come back for me?