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❝ PLEASE FORGIVE ME FOR FEELING THIS STRONG ❞
••
The obnoxious amount of light that filtered into the room through the partly open curtains made her want to squint her eyes before they were even fully open. The only sound that stood out was the sound of the air-conditioner that blew the cool air around the room, and though it usually felt so refreshing to her, she couldn't seem to enjoy it as her head ached, her muscles sore.
So, maybe those unnumbered drinks of theirs should have been counted.
It was the first bitter thought that went through Millie's mind as she finally, groggily sat upright on the unfamiliar mattress, eyes blearily blinking open to focus on her surroundings. Just a standard hotel room, probably a suite because of how big it seemed. She frowned at the sudden chilliness she felt, a shiver passing down her spine. Looking down at herself, she found that she was completely bare, a tiny squeal escaping her as her hands quickly grasped the white hotel sheet up past her bare chest.
Her gaze quickly darted to her right, finding a peacefully sleeping Finn beneath the duvet, his pale back on display. His dark ringlets fell upon his face, hiding half his features but appearing oh so alluring to her in that moment. Only then did she seem to notice that his arm was draped over her waist. Her heart hammered hard in her chest, the rhythmic beating louder in her ears as she could feel the blood rush to her cheeks as her mind filled her in on bits and pieces of what occurred during the previous night that she can't entirely recollect.
With her eyes shut tight, she breathed out a soft, "Shit."
Because, well, quite frankly, a night like their own would only complicate things for them in their friendship.
How had they even reached that point? When did she even agree to join him back at his hotel? Did they come in unnoticed?
She doubted it. It was still Los Angeles they were in, and as she already knew, paparazzi could be anywhere and everywhere. There had to be footage of them stumbling in together posted on every tabloid. TMZ at least would have had the blurriest, fuzziest, shortest clip of them to plaster on every screen of every phone and television that they possibly could get it on.
Her chest began to tighten at the thought. Her hand balled up the fabric of the thin white sheet, knuckles turning white as the other buried into her hair, gripping tightly. With her breathing becoming more and more shallow, mind racing, she knew there was only one thing for her to do. It could either stop the itching feeling that made her skin crawl or it could make it so much worse.
