It was one night, just one night and anything could have happened. There is no reason to speculate. You always expect the worst anyway, and you know that never happens, Lauren thinks to herself.
She takes another sip of water and almost immediately the small amount of liquid comes up. Luckily she is in the bathroom, the second she got up, and found herself next to, well, whoever that is. She got up and sprinted the short distance to the bathroom and locked herself in. It was 5:30 am, too early for most people to be awake on their day off. She got out of the bed wearing underwear, so the supports her theory, barely, that nothing serious happened.
It could be worse, you could be naked, then you really would be screwed, literally, she jokes to herself.
She is in no way a slut, one night stands really aren’t her thing, or any form of physical intimacy actually, but after too many drinks and poor judgment of the company she keeps for the night, well, anything can happen, right?
She sits just on the edge of the hotel bathroom bench next to the sink (just in case) and tries to think about anything that isn’t her turning stomach, or the guy she left sleeping in the bed just outside this room. She takes in her surroundings, counting anything she can find, tiles, soap, towels, anything. This helps her get her mind off spewing her guts up. Looking around the bathroom, it looks as though this could be the room she checked into this morning, similar sort of set up, but all bathrooms in the hotel must look pretty similar. Yesterday morning, she was in such a rush to check in and get into a meeting for work that she didn’t have time to unpack anything, let alone her toiletries, that would give her a clue whether this room was hers or not.
“She figures it doesn’t really matter anyway, regardless of whether this is her bathroom, there is a guy in the bed just outside it, and eventually he will wake up and will be asking the same questions himself. She absentmindedly took a sip of water and kept it down. Mind over matter works every time.
After counting the tiles around the vanity for the 7th time (26 tiles) she gets curious as to who it is she left in the bed, and decides she should try standing and see if her head will stop spinning. She steadies herself on the bench, and gradually presses her bare feet to the ground.
“Good start, now let’s see if you can make it too the door” she says to herself.
The next few steps are wobbly ones, but she feels no need to vomit into the basin behind her. She puts one hand to the door and another to the lock, unlocks it and slowly turns it, careful to not make any noise. Once unlocked, she pushes the door a few inches until she has a view of the bed. Sleeping there is a guy with a mass of black hair, teased and matted over his face. She recognised that the guy is from the band she is working with, as of yesterday, the Black Veil Brides. She’s only ever met them once, and since it is a new working-friendship, she doesn’t even remember all their names, let alone which one is which. It’s not anyone’s fault, they all just look so darn similar. Realising that it is someone who has employed her, she quickly shuts the door and goes into panic mode.
“This is so unprofessional! Stupid stupid stupid!! What were you thinking?? Most of these guys have girlfriends that you met yesterday!! You only met these guys yesterday as well, and you’re already sleeping with them?? Good job Lauren, you’ll probably lose your job over this, not to mention your reputation for being so diplomatic, and not mixing pleasure with business” she tells herself
“what the fuck are you going to do?” Lauren whispers to herself, as she turns and faces the mirror, her stomach is in knots, but not from the hangover, This times she is sick with herself. She pulls her long, brunette hair away from her face and over her shoulder.
“okay, okay. Clean yourself up so at least you look somewhat respectable, find your clothes and get out of here, regardless of whether this room is your or not, if you get out for a few hours, at least this guy will get the hint and leave of his own accord, this probably happens to him all the time, maybe he won’t remember either, and that’s if you’re lucky” she says to herself.
She grabs a towel and wipes off the excess mascara from around her eyes and splashes her face with water. After pulling her hair back into a loose bun, she is ready to open the door again.
This time, because she is opening the door fully, it creaks slightly. She swings her head around to make sure the guy is still asleep.
He’s dead to the world
Quickly, she tip toes around to the other side of the bed, and grabs her black jeans she was wearing last night. She slips them on whist looking at the guy, he’s head is buried in the pillow now, and he is shirtless. He is substantially tattooed and his muscle definition suggests he looks after himself pretty well.
Lauren grabs her loose tank top and jacket and surveys the room, looking for any evidence. Her suitcases and guitar are sitting in the corner
“Fuck” she yell, then quickly puts her hand over her mouth.
“I’d better make sure I get rid of anything that will lead back to me.”
She ensures her suitcase is locked, that way there is no chance of snooping. She quietly makes her way to the door and slips out, shutting the door behind her.
She lets out a sigh of relief and begins to walk down the hall
ASHLEY’S POV
Ashley Purdy woke up like he does most afternoons on a day off, hung over and with no idea where he is, and of course, this day isn’t any different. He opens his eyes and pushes his hair from his face, to get a better view of the clock on the nightstand
“2:06 pm” he read.
He lies in bed to give his body a chance to catch up with his head, making sure every part of him knows he’s awake and about to get up. Hang overs generally go one of two ways for Ashley, either he can get up without an issue and has slept through the worst of it, which is obviously what he is hoping for, or, his hangover would be so bad that he will barely make it to the bathroom to vomit until there is nothing left but stomach bile.
“okay, you can do this” he encourages himself.
He closes his eyes to stop the room spinning
“this could be a bad one” he groans “at least check if you’re alone in the bed, or if you’re going to make this poor girl run for her life seeing you in this state”
He slowly moves his hand from his side and feels the pillow next to him, nothing there. He kicks his leg out and pushes it to the other side of the bed.
Thank fuck, at least I can suffer alone, he thinks.
He opens his eyes and slowly moves himself into an upright position. His hangover is the good kind, he feels a little light headed but not like he’s going to puke. A few painkillers would go down pretty well though. His eyes adjust to the day’s light and he takes in his surroundings. This room is clearly not his, far too organised and neat. Ashley isn’t a slob or anything, he likes things clean, he’s just not a very organised person, and tends to get changed by throwing his clothes onto the couch/bed/floor and pick something that catches his eye.
“Where the fuck am I? Who’s room is this? Is this even my hotel?” he says to himself.
One of his questions is answered when he gets up and sees the hotel decal on a towel next to the bed.
“At least I don’t have far to travel to get to my own room, I’d better call CC, his room is right next to mine. Where is my cell?” He thinks to himself as he checks out his surroundings. He sees a pile of suitcases and a guitar case in the corner, and decides to take a look.
He reaches down to try and open them, to get a clue as to what he was doing in this room, but they’re locked. He likes the look of the guitar case though, hard leather with a few pyramid studs on the top of the lid.
“Whoever owns this must be pretty badass, you did well last night Purdy” he thinks smugly. “Maybe this babe is worth seeing again?” before he even considers answering his own question he shrugs it off. He doesn’t like the idea of relationships; they lead to nothing but pain and trouble, in his experience anyway.
He takes his attention off the suitcases when he sees his pants just near the entrance of the room. He smiles to himself thinking about all the fun he must have had last night. He picks up his pants and feels the pockets, and gets his cell.
Dialing CC…
“Where did you get to after last night” CC answers, without even saying hello
“I can’t even tell you, all I know is I am in last night’s conquest’s hotel room, and it’s the same one we’re staying in. What is your room number?” Ash answers right back
“5918, hey, is she still there? Is she hot?” he questions
“No, she isn’t here, must have bailed long before I got up. Do you remember anything of last night?” Ash asks
“Not really” CC answers “We were all pretty fucked up. I remember we were out with the band, and Lauren
Ashely pauses, trying to remember who Lauren is. Was she with the company? CC read Ashley’s silence perfectly
“You know, Lauren, the songwriter that the record company hired to help Andy out.” CC continued.
“Oh yeah, sure. Lauren.” Ash answered, with no clue who Lauren actually is. He didn’t bother to ask if she was hot or not because you don’t “screw the crew.” His own words.
“CC let’s finish this chat when I get back to my room and change okay? I cannot even find my shirt” Ashley says
“Ha, you must have had a lot of fun last night, hey Ash?” his voice is suggestive
Ashley hangs up the phone. There is no point relaying scene by scene of what happened last night with CC until he knows exactly what went down last night.
Ashley looks everywhere for his shirt, but finally gives up. The girl would be back soon he figures, and there is no point sticking around for that awkward conversation. Just as he is about to leave he takes another look at the guitar case. It really does look amazing, maybe a custom job? The real reason he didn’t want to leave though, is because he really wanted to know who this girl was from last night. Maybe he’s tired of being a player? But of course, the second that though goes through his head he crushes it and barely gives it another though.
Without even meaning to though, he takes a piece of stationary from the small table in the entrance of the door and scribbles down a cell number and leaves it sitting there to be found. He has to know who this girl is.
He shuts the door and makes his way up to his own room.
After showering and washing his hair, Ashley wraps a towel around his waist and goes out into the bedroom of his hotel suite. He looks at the clothes he’s left sprawled out on the bed and picks an old KISS shirt and decides to wear the jeans he was wearing last night again.
After getting changed he figures it’s probably times to see what CC is up to, and time to make up some story about last night. It isn’t until he reaches for his cell that he notices something is missing.
“No, no no no no. NO. FUCK!!!” He screams to himself. On his right hand, on his middle finger where his mothersing is supposed to be is bare. His blood turns cold just at the thought of it being lost. He checks his pockets, his bed, his wallet, his pockets again. Everywhere. He turns the entire suite upside down searching for the fucking thing.
“where the fuck is it! FUCK” he yells
The ring, the only fucking thing that his mother had ever trusted him is gone.
“What the FUCK have you done Ashley” he has no idea where it is.
He checks the time, just going on 8pm now, the guys are going to wonder where he is and the bus is going to be leaving for home soon. This was the last stop of the tour and the band is supposed to start working on their next record in Hollywood tomorrow.
“What the fuck am I going to do??”
ANDY’S POV
7:30pm
Sitting in a random hotel room being screamed at by the girl he love isn’t an ideal situation for anyone. It particularly isn’t an ideal situation after finishing an exhausting tour and with the deadline of an album coming up, not to mention his record company and his band not trusting him enough to stay focused on writing their next album.
“…And to think that they’re bringing in a mass produced songwriter to keep tabs on me, she seems nice enough, but the poor girl really doesn’t need to get mixed up in all the bands politics, not to mention my automatic dislike I felt for her.” These are the thoughts that are running through Andy’s mind, he tuned Juliet out ages ago.
Juliet went quite “shit, she probably wants me to answer” Andy thinks.
“Juliet! I swear, I have no idea who she is or why she would claim to have anything to do with me” Andy says, the same answer he’s been giving her this entire argument. It’s true as well.
“That is total bullshit Andy, I just cannot believe you. How else would she get your fucking number? She even said you wrote it down before you left her hotel suite!”
Juliet was pissed, Andy could tell that much. He’s had enough of trying to reason with her. Maybe it’s because of the state she’s worked herself into, or maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to fight anymore, especially with all the other thoughts running through his head.
“Some chick, I have no idea who, is claiming to have one of my shirts and a ring that I have never seen in my life. I wish I at least got a chance to speak to her, at least get some sense out of the situation.” Andy tries to rationalise things
“Andy, I’m sorry, I just need to fucking leave right now. I can’t even bare to look at you.” Juliet says, clutching the sides of her head
Andy hates seeing her like this, but knows there is nothing he can really do, maybe a few hours space is what they need.
Andy nods and give’s Juliet a smile before she slams the door. She doesn’t even look back.
With Juliet gone he has some time to clear his head, and to figure out how in the hell some chick got his number
****AUTHOURS NOTE****
let me know what you think guys, and if i should bother uploading the second chapter