The Aftermath

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**warning: there's some throwing up in this chapter (as a result of her wild night). some people probably hate that idk.

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You woke up knowing a few things. 


First, Kylo must have gotten the heating fixed, because your hair was stuck to the back of your neck with sweat. The collar of your shirt was damp, and that was another thing. Your clothes were in a pile on the floor and the shirt that was hanging on you loosely, was Kylo's.  The other thing you knew was that you had drank too much. You couldn't remember feeling extremely drunk last night, but you felt it now in the form of a skull-splitting headache and a burst of nausea in the back of your throat. The thing you knew the most, was that you had embarrassed yourself beyond the point of salvation and you needed to leave as soon as possible. 


Before you could do that, you needed to call Ivy back. Your phone had countless messages and missed calls awaiting you. You listened to her most recent voicemail from about an hour ago, which was basically just her yelling into the phone. She picked up as soon as it rang. 


"Where the fuck are you?" she snapped.


"Kylo's. I'm so sorry, are you okay?"


"I'm fine, other than the fact that I spent all morning thinking you were dead!" she shouted. 


"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Really. To be fair I just woke up and the Molly version of me didn't think to call."


She sighed. "The Molly version of me didn't even realize you were gone. I woke up at like four a.m. panicked. So we can call it even. What are you doing at Kylo's?"


"Bit of a long story. I'm gonna try to sneak out now and I'll tell you about it when I'm back."


"Be safe. Steal his watch or something"


"Oh my god, bye now."


You moved slowly, coddling your stiff limbs and the sick feeling in your gut. Your main goal was speed. Get the fuck out of here as quickly as you could and without causing any more damage to your dignity. The idea of wiggling into your skimpy outfit from last night did not seem like a time conscious idea, so you opted to carry your clothes in your arms until you were in the lobby and then you would at least put on the skirt. It would be embarrassing but it would be worth it. You also gathered the several sheets of paper you had spent the whole night scribbling on. Most of it was nonsense, but you figured it wasn't a total waste. 


You couldn't even make it to the bedroom door. Standing up was a bad idea. You should have crawled. Nausea rolled up your throat, making your face numb, and you realized there was no doubt that you were about to throw up. 


You stumbled into the bathroom, not bothering to flick on the light, and made it to the toilet just as the contents of your stomach departed you. Your eyes watered and your throat stung from the acid. Had you really drank that much? You tried to count the shots that you had ordered, but it occurred to you that there may have been plenty of shots you didn't remember. The Molly was still kicking you, just the leftover effects, so despite the dreadful situation you were stuck in, you felt kind of good. 

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