14: The Perfect Duo in Gotham

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Chapter Song: Welcome to New York - Taylor Swift

     The next morning, let's just say I was far from okay.

The sound of the constant honks and chatty New Yorkers made me want to hop right back in the car and get the hell out of here.

Groaning heavily, I turn onto my back, the comforter that was encased around me slowly slipping down my body.

I managed to get a quick glance at the clock on the bedside table before the throbbing in my head came at me full force.

I foolishly attempted to rub the pain away, but it only made the throbbing much, much worse.

"Why the hell are you New Yorkers up at 7:00 in the fucking morning?" I grumbled angrily to myself.

I was irritated that I was woken up at such an hour of the morning, especially since my friends and I didn't get home until sometime after three. Big mistake.

They call this the City that Never Sleeps for a reason, you dumb fuck, my conscious snapped at me.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to fall into a peaceful slumber, but there was no such thing here.

Every second there was either a loud, long honk coming from a driver stuck in traffic, or a loud burst of laughter that could be heard, even from the fourth floor of this hotel.

They had the money to build this one hundred and fifty room suite, why couldn't they install sound proof walls for fuck sake!

Cursing under my breath--for the buzzing City and my dumb decision to consume so much alcohol, I sit up in my king sized bed.

Glancing around, I realized I was alone.

When I managed to crawl out of bed and make it to my en-suite, I said a silent prayer for the fact that Nicholas decided to choose the room across the hall from mine when I caught my reflection in the mirror. It was way uglier than usual.

My head of brown hair had found it's way into a less than cute messy bun, almost half of it had fallen out while the others were sticking up in different directions.

The remnants of my makeup was all over my face. The mascara left a stream down my cheek that would give anyone the impression that I was crying, chunks of it were stuck to the corners of my eyes, my eyeshadow seemed to find it's way to my nose and some of it was mixed in with the mascara streams. There was little to no signs of my bold red lipstick that I had applied on and my foundation was evidently cakey.

"Just fucking splendid," I muttered while glaring at myself through the spotless mirror.

The two piece I had worn last night was replaced by a large button up shirt that was definitely not mine. The shirt acted as a dress on me and reeked profusely of vomit.

I made a mental note to throw it in the wash before giving it back to Nicholas.

Tearing my eyes away from the poor excuse of a girl in the mirror, I turned on the shower, not really caring what temperature it was set at.

The walk in shower was polished and stainless, two shower heads on either side of the back wall were angled towards the middle of the tiled floor.

I don't waist any time slipping out of the shirt and stepping into the shower. The water was blazing but I welcomed it. The burning sensation subtly easing my headache.

I don't know how long I stood there, letting the scorching water run down every inch of my body. When I finally stepped out, I wrapped a white plush towel around my body and another around my hair.

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