The Stranger / Chris Evans x OC

Chapter 16: Hungover

AMELIA

I wake up the next day with a pounding headache. 

I have vague memories of last night, but I don't really remember much after we started drinking shots. 

Taylor got them, serving 5 in front of me, Pierre and Chris. 

Five. Each. 

And while I do remember drinking all of them eagerly, I don't really remember much after that. 

I roll over in bed with a groan, grabbing onto the pillow next to me and pulling it closer to make me feel better. 

I open my eyes slowly as I try to forget how embarrassingly I must have acted. 

Oh god, I hope it wasn't bad. I'm going to need Taylor to fill me in. If I acted like an idiot in front of the fucking Marvel cast, I would rather die than go back to see them ever again. 

Once my brain feels slightly normal I look around the room. 

My brows instantly furrow in confusion. 

This doesn't look familiar..

Why is it so tidy in here? We made a mess of my room last night...

FUCK. 

This isn't my room! 

Shit shit shit shit!

This isn't my fucking room!

WHOSE ROOM AM I IN?! 

I panic on the bed and as I roll over to the other side, the quick reaction makes me actually fall of it. 

I land on the floor with a thump, tangled in the, apparently, unfamiliar sheets. 

Great. Just fucking great, Amelia. 

You spent all of 2 seconds remembering that you're a fucking lawyer, and then threw that entire thing out the window once the shots were served. 

Who's fucking room are you in, dumbass?

What did you do?

Oh my god!

The panic inside me only gets stronger once I suddenly realize I slept in someone else's bed. 

What if I slept with someone?! 

And I don't even remember?!

I quickly look down myself, throwing the comforter I'm tangled in aside, to my best ability. 

Alright. A t-shirt and shorts. That's good.

Neither are your own, though.

But.. That's better than being naked... right? 

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. 

I look around wide eyed, unsure of what I should do. I decide to try and silently make my way out of whoever's room this is.

I untangle myself from the sheets and once I'm standing, I spot a room service menu on the desk. 

Okay, this is good. The logo is the same one as the hotel you're staying in. That's good. You made it to the same building. 

I look around again. 

This isn't Taylor's room, though. I saw it yesterday when we arrived.

And even If it was, him and Pierre would most definitely be sleeping in here. And I would be on the couch. I know that much from past experiences. 

I tiptoe my way to the bathroom, seeing more of the hotel's familiar soap. 

Yep, good, confirmed. You're in the right building. Good, very good. 

I glance at myself in the mirror and the sight that meets me might be even more horrifying than the fact that I woke up in a strange hotel room. 

My makeup is smudged everywhere and my hair is a fucking mess. 

Great. Acting like an adult, I see. Almost 30 years old and you still end up like this after a night out. Great fucking job, Amelia. 

I grab the soap close to the sink and start washing my face. 

Once I look half decent, I glance around the bathroom. That's when I spot men's toiletries on the counter. 

But they're only on one side. 

I already figured this wasn't Taylor's room, but not seeing toiletries on both sides of the sink definitely confirms it. 

I drop my face into my hands, sighing deeply as I shake my head. 

You fucking slept with someone and you have no idea who. And you don't remember doing it. 

Are lawyers even allowed to act like this?

I don't have time to think about the consequences of my actions. 

Just get out of here and it'll be fine. The stranger whose room you're in won't remember you anyway. Just find your shit and get the fuck out, Amelia. 

I tip toe around the bedroom, looking for my clothes. There's nothing here. 

I walk towards the open archway towards the living room and that's when I spot my clothes, folded neatly in a chair placed in the corner. 

Great, okay, good. It's here. 

I start to quietly walk towards it but as soon as I walk over the threshold to the living room, I see it. 

The most devastating, haunting sight in my fucking life. 

No. 

It can't be. 

This can't be real. 

Please tell me it's not real. 

No. No. No. Nononono. No! 

That's not Chris Evans sleeping on that fucking couch. 

Nope. Surely not. 

Must just be someone who looks vaguely like him. 

But when the man on the couch turns a little, snoring lightly, I feel positively nauseous. 

It's him. 

It's Chris fucking Evans. 

And he's sleeping on the couch. This must be his hotel room..

This should be a relief, because at least I didn't wake up in a strangers hotel room.  

But it's not. It's really, really not. 

WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MAKE CHRIS EVANS BRING YOU TO HIS FUCKING HOTEL ROOM WHEN YOU LIVE 3 DOORS DOWN? 

AND WHY THE HELL IS HE SLEEPING ON THE COUCH IN HIS OWN FUCKING ROOM?!

God, I am such a mess. 

I close my eyes momentarily, beating myself up internally at how much of an idiot I am for getting myself into this situation. 

When I open them again, I take a deep breath and start to tiptoe my way towards the chair with my clothes. 

Get your clothes, get out. Maybe he won't remember. 

It'll be fine...

I get to the chair and start lifting my clothes, feeling a bit of relief. 

You're good, you're fine. Now get out. 

Right as I'm about to make a break for it a noise startles me. 

"Hey," A deep, groggy voice says, "You're up." 

✦✧✦✧

Liked this chapter? Please remember to vote and comment! ♡