𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨; 𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘦𝘳

veelas and rosehips

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Camden wakes up feeling like a fucking idiot.

The first thing she notices is the discomfort. The dryness in her mouth, the sheen of slick sweat over every inch of her skin, the heavy pressure on her chest. Her eyes peel open, and at once, she winces against the brightness of the late morning. But as the fogginess of sleep clears from her head and the memories of the night before start to reappear and it becomes clear to her that the heat all over her and the weight on her chest is Evan.

A shirtless Evan, whose arm is draped around her middle, whose head is resting on her bare chest, the ends of his hair tickling the bottom of her chin.

He is completely entangled in her. Legs entwined with hers, warm skin pressed hers. Evan is all over, snoring softly, lips lightly ghosting over the top of her breast. And she has to bite back the urge to slam the back of her head into the headboard because how could she be so fucking stupid?

Carefully, not wanting to wake him, Camden peels herself away from him. Gently pushing his head back onto the pillow, plopping his arm onto the other side of the bed, sliding her legs out from under his. The bed creaks and dips slightly as Camden crawls out of bed, off to pick her discarded, scattered, clothing up from the floor. Her underwear. Her shirt. Her trousers. Her bra. All spread across the four corners of the room, lingering with Evan's.

From his spot by the radiator, Bear blinks accusingly at Camden, and she silently sneers at him, the judgmental little shite, before she rushes towards the bathroom, not wanting to wake Evan and be caught looking like a naked, frightful deer.

Once she softly closes the door behind her, Camden drops her bundle of clothes to the floor and turns to face the mirror. It's been a good while since she's gotten a real, proper look at herself. Her hair, blonder than it usually is, is static and frizzy, sticking up wildly and tangled in awful knots. She's got a new, small scar on the side of her head from the car that smashed into her, and her lips are chapped and dry. The bags under her eyes are more prominent than ever, and they seem to match the series of deep purple love bites that start at the base of her neck and curve their way down to the valley between her breasts.

"Oh, you stupid, stupid slut," Camden whispers to her reflection, fingers tentatively tracing along the sensitive, bruised bits of skin.

The night before has left its evidence all over her, it seems. The bruises, the soreness in her legs, the stickiness between her thighs. She turns the shower on as hot as it will go, ready to wash it all off. She regrets sleeping with Evan. She absolutely regrets sleeping with Evan.

Hot water washes over her, releasing some tension lingering in her muscles, and it all replays in her head. The kissing, the teasing, the fucking. Evan's eagerness. His desperation. His whimpering and moaning beneath her. His squirming and soft whispers of, 'please.' His fingers gripping into the soft flesh on either side of her hips, trying to control her movements, trying to keep himself grounded.

Her forehead drops against the tiled wall of the shower, hot water beating down on her back. It's one thing to fuck someone she doesn't like. It was an entirely other thing to fuck someone she doesn't like that's paying her five-thousand pounds to drive him all around the entire United fucking Kingdom in a pickup.

All she can think to herself is how stupid she is. Over and over, it replays in her thoughts on a loop, endlessly berating herself. She doesn't know Evan well, hardly at all, but she's seen enough to know that whatever reaction he has to this, she's not going to like it. Camden doesn't even know how she's going to look him in the eye after this.