Loosen up! (A Walker Scobell x reader)

Gatorade?

The next morning I wake up laying in my bed with the worst headache on planet earth.

My stomach lurches. Oh gosh. I need to puke.

I run to my bathroom and throw up over and over again. Oh my gosh, why did I eat before?!

Ugh. I think it's ov-NEVERMIND! I puke again. gross.

I rest my head on the seat of the toilet. I feel so gross. I look at the clock 8:37. I have like an hour or so. I'll be fine.

I can hear Walker moving around in his room. Gosh, what is he doing that's so fucking nosey?!

My head hurts so bad.

I rub my eyes and when I pull my fingers back there's black stuff smudged. Oh. Eyeliner? Who the fuck put eyeliner on me...

I stand up with wobbly knees and peak at myself. My hair actually looks great-messy-but good. and my eyeliner has smudged down my face. My pajamas-how the fuck did I ch-okay. How much did I drink?

My pajamas are pink Victoria's Secret ones. I kinda look good. I don't feel good though.

Oh shit. I duck over the toilet again and throw up.

Ugh, I feel disgusting.

I stand up and get my phone. I need to make sure all the stupid stuff I just have done can be explained.

Stupid thing one: singing and dancing to Umbrella with Brady Noon. Not too bad.

Stupid thing two: a lip sync-where I'm obviously completely drunk-to an audio that goes like "I never wanna make you mad, I just wanna make you proud. I said baby just make me cum, and don't make a sound."

What the actual fuck was I thinking?! 

Stupid thing three: commenting on Walkers post 'wonder who this is about' WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT WAS I THINKING. WHAT WAS I THINKING.

Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

knock knock

I have no time to ask 'who's there?' because I'm throwing up again. My eyes are watering at this point. I can hardly get air into my lungs.

I feel a hand on my back. "Hey, breathe." I know that voice.

It's Walker's.

"Why...why are you here..." I say breathless.

He ignores the question and poses one of his own. "How was your night of getting drunk?" I can tell he's not happy with me.

"It was great." I lie and stare up at him through my messy hair.

"And how's your hangover going?" He asks.

I sigh. "Here. Drink this, it'll help with the headache." He holds out a bottle of Gatorade.

"I also brought a towel in case you like...puked on your floor."

"Thanks." I reach for it but he twists it open for me. He hands it over.

I sip on it. "I'm praying for you that Tony didn't see any of those videos. Actually I'm praying for myself too, he'll be pissed I wasn't with you." He laughs.

I suddenly put the bottle down and hug him. He sits there's stunned for a moment then hugs me back. His hands are on my back and I put my head on his shoulder. He smells nice.

"Gosh, you smell like beer y/n. What compelled you to drink so much anyways?"

"You."