Gunner (EDITED/REWRITTEN)

3- Aria (EDITED)

I'm sleeping, so whoever you are, stop calling me. I groaned, my face dug deeply into the pillow. And the more my phone continues to ring, the more irritated I'm becoming. So finally, I extended my arm towards the nightstand and patted my hand around, hoping to silence my phone.

Ugh.

Where are you?

I'm tired, not ready to get out of bed, and I'm definitely not ready to open these hungover eyes. My head also feels like there's a jackhammer trying to break up cement, sickening me more than ever, and now I feel like hanging my head over the toilet.

What the hell was I thinking? Why on earth did I drink as much as I did?

My hand pulled away from my nightstand and moved over to the empty pillow beside me. Then, desperate to block the sound of my ringing phone, I pulled the pillow over, covered my head, and held it—thinking of where I left my phone after coming home.

Wait... how did I get home, anyway?

Suddenly it hit me about who dropped me off, instantly numbing me. I removed the pillow from the top of my head, then rolled my head to the side, opening an eye and looking around. I didn't see my phone, but I was grateful it quit ringing. Then Gunner's face flashed into my mind, pausing my beating heart.

Please don't tell me I let my guard down, had drunken sex with him, and he's still here, lying on the other side.

I closed my eye, hesitantly rolled my head to the other side, and took a deep breath before opening an eye. After seeing he wasn't in my bed, relief immediately washed over me, and I exhaled a breath of relief.

My phone started ringing again. So I rolled onto my back, dug my elbows into the mattress, pushed myself up, and listened—it's in the living room. I slid around, hung my legs over the side of the bed, and as I started reaching to the floor to grab my clothes, I stopped after realizing I was still in the same clothes as the night before.

My phone continued to ring. And the more it rang, the pounding in my head worsened. I cupped my forehead, dropped my feet to the ground, and reluctantly headed to the living room. I grabbed my purse from the top of my couch, unzipped it, then stuck my hand inside and removed my phone. Seeing it was Justin calling, I angrily answered, "What?

"Geeze. Well, hello to you too."

"Geeze, what? Did you know that It's seven in the morning?" I asked, growling. "What did you need so bad that you had to call this early?"

"I was calling to make sure you made it home safe."

"If you cared that much, you would have made sure I made it home last night before you got dropped off... some big caring brother you are." I set the phone down on the table, hit the speaker, then walked into the kitchen, looking to cure my hangover.

"Aria, I wouldn't have let anyone drop you off if I feared you would get hurt. It was Gunner, for crying out loud!"

I grabbed the headache pills off the counter and removed the cap, dropping a couple of pills into the palm of my hand. "And he's someone you and I both know nothing about. All you know of that guy is that he's a professional fighter. What if he were to have kidnapped me and taken me to some run-down warehouse and raped me? How would you have felt then?"

I popped the pills into my mouth, then washed them down with water.

"You got home safe, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but..."

"Yeah, but nothing," Justin interjected. "You're home. You're safe. And you're arguing with me about nothing. That should show you the man is nothing like you think he is. As I said last night, he has a reputation to uphold. He doesn't need your face, or his name flashed nationwide over the T.V..."