ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕕...
TW: Mature content
"𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙞𝙚, 𝙄 𝙙𝙞𝙚."
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Lydia Grayson is a popular girl; gorgeous, caring, intelligent, humorous, and a tad bit of a badass; She knows how to party. No one knows about the challenges she faces...
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When I woke up I felt a stinging pain on my right leg.
'Oh, yeah, that's right.' Everything from the previous night came flooding back to me. Given how much I drank, I'm surprised I remembered all of it.
I felt like puking the moment that thought entered my mind. I threw off my covers and dashed to what I assumed was the bathroom in Chance's room. 'I'm in the Chance room,' I reminded myself.
I ran as quickly as I could to the washroom feeling a burn through my leg after every step.
The next few moments I spent leaning over the toilet throwing up. I felt like absolute shit.
Pushing my hands against the cold bathroom floor in order to stand and return to bed. Or, I suppose, his bed. As I approached his bed, I noticed a glass of water and a bottle of Advil on the nightstand.
I hurried over and grabbed the Advil. I took several and drank the entire glass of water in one gulp.
My stomach was rumbling relentlessly, so I headed down the stairs. Rubbing my eyes to adjust to the light, I made my way to the kitchen, where I encountered Chance having a beer by the counter.
"Already? What time is it?" Taking a seat on one of the island chairs, I questioned.
He raised his head from his phone to observe me adjusting myself in my seat. My leg is extremely painful.
"Its three in the afternoon"
I wasn't surprised because I usually sleep until the afternoon on weekends. There was no one in the house when I looked around. "Where is everyone? "Didn't you live with a shitload of guys?"
"I do. They're all at football practice."
I looked back at him. "Aren't you on the football team too?" I was incredibly confused.
"Ya," he shrugged, returning his eyes to his phone while taking another sip of his beer.
"How come you're not at practice?"
"Don't have to be" "Why?"
He took a breath and raised his head from his phone once again. "Don't worry about it," he said, clearly irritated. 'Whatever... Dick'
"Need help changing your bandages?" He asked me as he stepped around the kitchen island towards me.
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