Confident. (Jack Harlow)

One

American Boy- Estelle feat. Kanye West.

"I like the way he's speaking, his confidence is peaking."

(Not sure if this song goes with the chapter, but it's fun and I like it soooo.)

♡ ♡ ♡

Tate Evans was totally screwed.

Sure, waking up in an expensive looking hotel room shouldn't have worried her as much as it did. The carpets that were lining the floors had designs that she had never seen before. Over by the television stand there was a bottle of champagne that was surrounded by ice (so it wouldn't melt). The blue bed sheets that were surrounding her at the moment, were made of pure silk. And she was really astonished when she looked up and found a chandelier hanging above her.

She had put the clues together, that whomever was staying in this room was a total douche. I mean, don't get her wrong, the girl in question was never one to judge a person before meeting them. But who in the world needed silk bed sheets while they were staying in a hotel? It seemed a bit excessive. She had met these kinds of people before, and unfortunately, she must've gone home with one of them last night.

Her brain was beginning to get off topic, when she really needed to focus on one thing and one thing only.

♡ ♡ ♡

What happened last night?

Firstly, let it be known that she was still fully clothed. Nothing out of proportion happened, and that was what she was the most thankful for.

Secondly, she had obviously gotten absolutely plastered. If the pounding in her head wasn't a reminder, the dryness of her throat definitely was. The girl was kind of upset with herself. Because one of the things she did remember last night was promising herself that she wouldn't touch any alcohol. But five tequila shots later, and she was down for the count.

Taking in more of her surroundings, she could hear the faint noise of water running. Someone was taking a shower, and she did not want to hang around to meet whoever it was. The sound of a knob turning soon snapped her out of the funk she was in, and her eyes were running around the hotel room to look for anything of hers that she needed to grab before her escape.

The brunette could see her shoes neatly put together in the corner of the room. Someone must've taken them off for her last night. The jewelry that her friends begged her to wear for the night was on the nightstand that the girl could see in her peripheral vision.

But her material things popped out of her thoughts as soon as she heard the door to the bathroom open. She couldn't panic.

But of course, she started panicking.

So, in true Tate fashion, she fell back on the bed in a rush. Pretending to be asleep. Her limbs were strewn in different places, same with her legs. She was a wild sleeper. Her breathing started to get more shallow (she read in a book that when people sleep, their breathing starts to slow down). And her eyes were glued shut.

God, she was surely going to hear an earful about this later. Tate had a certain friend named Clara who was no doubt blowing up her phone right this second. The friend in question also decided to talk to a guy last night, his name was Timothee, and in her words he was "totally hot."

The sound of feet hitting the carpet was what caught her attention. Steps getting closer and closer near the bed. The brunette hoped she was putting on a good performance of sleeping in.