Signed /Dream Team/

42

I've been trying to wake up for the past hour. Every time I get even close to opening my eyes, I feel like I'm falling down an abyss. It's such an unpleasant feeling; drifts me right back to sleep.

There's also this comforting feeling of hugging a personalized pillow. And I only found out that the pillow was Clay when I finally woke up.

Opening my eyes, I realize that my arms are wrapped around his neck, and my head is buried between the pillow behind his head and his neck while my legs are circling his body. We're not even lying down, he's leaned back to the headboard and I'm basically sleeping in a vertical position.

I don't even want to ask how. All I remember is getting drunk and that's more than enough.

When Clay feels me shifting and stretching, he speaks, "Good morning, moonshine," he's casually scrolling his phone while I'm stuck to his body like a leech.

I've never been so confused in my whole life. Well, I say that a lot. And it says a lot about me, "What?"

"It's like sunshine but for alcoholics like you," I have no idea what's going on.

Since when am I his sunshine- I mean moonshine?

And why am I in his shirt? Why does my boob hurt? Why is my hair in a bun, I never sleep with a bun.

And is that Nick sleeping next to us?

I have so many questions-

I roll away from him, careful to not land on Nick. My whole body aches. Especially my head and my right boob.

The pain is so distracting that I'm forced to look under my shirt to see what's going on before doing anything else. I find an oval-shaped red mark on my chest. Wait-

Wait, is that a hickey?

"Did you- did I?" I don't even know if I should ask Clay or Nick. Or both. My last memory is of me on Nick's lap, but there are also faint images of me and Clay together, "Did we?"

Clay's barely holding back a grin. I know that face, it means that he's about to laugh at me and call me an idiot.

"What?"

I pull the neck of his shirt I'm wearing to expose the red mark, "What's this?"

He didn't even hesitate before answering.

"It's the upper inner corner of your right titty."

Why does it sound like something I would say?

And why is Nick here, it's so fucking ridiculous-

I pull my brows together and he notices how concerned I am. At least he doesn't tease me any longer and actually starts giving proper answers to my questions.

"It's a burn mark, idiot." There it is; he called me by my real name.

A faint memory of me spilling hot coffee on myself resurfaces. I thought it was a dream. But if it wasn't a dream, then did I ride Clay? Cause I kinda remember doing that.

"Did we fuck?"

I know it came out a bit blunt but that's the best I can do. Clay blinks in surprise, completely losing the ability to speak for literal seconds.

"You were drunk, Anastasia," he makes his words clear, "nothing happened."

That one must've been a dream then.

The next thing that worries me is how tangled my hair is in this bun. It's pulling from all the sides and feels like someone laid an egg on my head. And even when I try to detangle it, the hairtie is stuck. It almost makes me lose my shit and rip my hair out.