Emerald's Eye (Lauren/You)

Chapter 8: Hangovers

The phone alarm went off loudly, startling the sleeping architect and causing her to fall out of bed.

Y/n groaned, feeling her head pound, each thud sent waves of pain crashing through her head.
She needed water, Tylenol, and maybe an ambulance.

Y/n tried to remember what had happened the previous night, her sluggish mind trying to formulate thoughts.

How much had she drank last night? Definitely too much. Way too much.

She got up slowly, cursing to herself as she realized that not only had she passed out fully clothed, but she hadn't even managed to close the curtains.

Bright streams of light poured in through the windows, blinding her as she struggled to get up and close the curtains, which would hopefully offer some relief to her head and eyes.

After managing to get the room darkened, she flopped back down on the bed, wishing that she could just stay in the hotel room all day.
There was nothing more that Y/n wanted than to just nurse a bottle of gatorade, and sleep off the hangover that admittedly was definitely one of the worst she'd ever had.

But unfortunately, the alarm that had so rudely awoken her meant that she only had around an hour to get ready for the first official day of the project.

As she wobbled to the bathroom, Y/n felt bile rise in her throat and she ripped open the bathroom door before emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and turned on the shower, groaning at the pain in her now empty stomach.

For the sake of the project, she hoped that the others had fared better than her, because Kavinsky would not be happy when he saw two thirds of his "wonder team" arrive looking like a zombie horde from the Walking Dead.

After showering, the still sleepy architect put on some black jeans, a white t-shirt with her company's logo on the chest pocket, and some white vans.
She slipped a black zip up jacket over her upper half and hung her Ray-bans on her shirt, before putting her phone and wallet into her Jean pockets.

Kavinsky had informed the team, during their first meeting, that he had rented a large office space near his building for the team to work in and because they would not be interacting with anyone besides him, there was no reason for a dress code.
Something that made Y/n happy to hear, especially that particular morning.

Y/N studied herself in the mirror one last time, making sure she looked somewhat put together before making her way down to the waiting car.
Opening the door of the SUV, Y/N noticed two other figures hunched over in the row furthest from the front, bodies stretched into the darkest corners of the vehicle.

Shawn had the hood of his black Nike hoodie pulled down tightly over his eyes, his arms crossed tightly in front of him as he leaned heavily on his left side against the vehicle.

Justin didn't look much better with a dark blue Yankees baseball cap balancing over the front of his face and the hood of his matching navy hoodie pulled tight over his eyes as he laid back against the headrest.

"Both of you look great, same time same place tonight?"

Y/N teased the hungover men playfully as she heard deep guttural groans from both.

"Shut the hell up, Y/N. Your voice is hurting my head."

Shawn rasped out as he covered the front of his face with both hands and leaned forward into them.

"I'm never touching tequila or vodka ever again. It feels like my soul died."

Justin groaned, latching both hands onto his stomach in pain and trying to slowly breathe through the nausea.