My Rockstar's World

Chapter 4

I wake up with a pounding headache the next day. I attempt to sit up but nausea threatens me, and I don't want to try to test myself. I look down to find myself in my large pajama shirt, and my makeup is smeared all over my pillow.

I rub my head as I try to piece together how I even got back into my bed last night and why I would have changed but not bothered to take off my makeup. I guess I just didn't have the energy in me to wash my face. It's been a while since I've gotten that trashed.

As my eyes continue to adjust to the light coming in through my blinds, I notice that my dress is folded nicely on the top of my dresser and my heels are lined up nicely on the floor. Alright, sober me wouldn't even fold my dress after a night out. I usually just step out of my clothes and leave them on the floor until I'm not feeling lazy or at the very most throw them into my overflowing hamper.

I reach for my phone, which is plugged in on my nightstand next to a glass of water. I also don't remember doing that. I unlock my phone and find a new text.

Bawdy: Sleep tight. Don't forget to take some Advil in the morning.

"Huh, what?" I say out loud to myself as I try to piece together what happened last night.

Kennedy must have been outside in the kitchen and heard me starting to move around.

She walks into my room as the door was left half open. "It's about time you woke up. How're you feeling?"

"I feel like I got hit by a bus."

She laughs. "Those shots definitely caught you off guard."

"I'm never drinking again," which is what I say every time I wake up with a horrible hangover and don't fully remember the night before.

The night before. Bawdy.

"Did I imagine it, or did Bawdy really show up?"

"Oh, it happened, and it's all over the tabloids." She pulls out her phone and pulls up an article titled "Bawdy brawl! Bawdy punches man for taking advantage of his girl."

"He punched someone? His girl? Is that suppose to be me?" The questions start to fire off my tongue. I remember him pushing Kevin back, but I don't remember him punching anyone.

"No, it's kind of crazy how easily they turn a story. Guess you're supposed to be his girl in the situation."

As much as I'd love to be his girl, I know that those articles spin stories and try to make people read them with misleading and outrageous titles. Bawdy is known for being seen with new girls all the time, so I'm sure they want to raise even more talk by saying he has one girl.

I've seen articles in the past about him punching people or throwing things, so it kind of makes sense that they would say a story like this with no evidence. Unfortunately, people will believe it.

I'm never one for violence, but for some reason the idea of him going after someone on my behalf awakens something inside of me.

"You ended up blacking out, and he helped carry you to his limo and drove us home. I told him to just put you into bed, but he insisted on at least not letting you sleep in that dress. I didn't have it in me to take it off your lifeless body, but I didn't think you'd mind." She finishes explaining.

I really need to be more careful. I'm usually not one to let myself get to that level of incoherent.

I just stare blankly as I try to process all of this. He carried me to bed. He took my dress off. I bet he's the one who got me water too.

If he was going to be taking off my dress, I really wish that it was in a setting where I could remember it. This means he has seen me basically naked. Besides a tiny thong, it's not like I was wearing a bra under that dress since it fit like a glove on top.

"Why me, though?"

"I guess you gave him a good first impression. I don't know how I feel about his aggressiveness, but he was really sweet to help last night."

Kennedy's phone rings from the other room, and she goes to answer it. "Let me know if you need anything," she says as she leaves the room.

I finally work up the courage to drag myself to the bathroom. As a precautionary measure, I sit down on the floor by the toilet after peeing. I honestly probably don't even have the energy to make it back to my bed without collapsing.

I decide to text Bawdy back. The thought of sending him a text still feels surreal.

Gianna: Seriously, thank you for last night. You didn't have to do all that for me.

I open up a cabinet while still sitting on the floor and take out my bottle of Advil. Almost immedielty, my phone buzzes with a new message.

Bawdy: Anytime for you, baby girl. And I want to see you again, but this time you don't run off on me.

He still wants to see me again after seeing how much of a wreck I was? Oh, I really hope I didn't say anything really fucking stupid while he was bringing me back. Although by the sounds of it, I was blacked out, which has only happened a few times in my life. I'd really like to keep that number low. Preferably never add to it again.

And the "baby girl." No nickname like that has ever made my insides feel so warm. Aside from the warm fuzzy feeling it gives me to hear that term of endearment, it also deepens my desires for him.

Bawdy: If you're up for it, I have a private table at Blanco's on Tuesday. 11pm.

The idea of going out again soon doesn't sound that appealing in my current state, but the hangover will go away. The memories made while going out, especially with a celebrity, will stay forever. Unless I'm so drunk I can't remember them.

Gianna: I'll be there.

Bawdy: Cool, don't wait in line when you get there. If you have any trouble, let me know. No one should ever give you trouble in life.

After a slow recovery, I finally work up the strength to go into the kitchen. I decide to make myself some chicken noodle soup to eat while I check some emails and look at what homework I still need to finish tonight.

I really don't understand why professors think it's a good idea to have deadlines on weekends. I highly doubt my professor is going to start grading right at midnight, so what's the point of even having this deadline.

At least I don't have to take any photos. I just have to send in some topic ideas for a big portfolio presentation that I have to make by the end of the semester. All photography majors have to take this class in either fall or spring of their senior year. I thought that taking it in fall would at least force me to think more about subject matters that I actually like and might want to pursue in the future.

Currently, my brain has no thoughts in it. Except maybe one person.

I wonder if he's thinking about me or what he's doing today.

As much as I'd love to daydream about Bawdy, I know I need to focus on my assignment. But it's so hard when someone like him was in my apartment last night. He was in my room. And I can't even remember it happening.

Okay, focus mode. I know that if I want to go out and have fun, then I need to get my work done too. I guess I'll need to make sure any homework due on Tuesday is done early too so I have time to get ready.

Look at me planning ahead. Kennedy would be proud.

After scrolling through some previous portfolio examples and Pinterest for any bit of inspiration, I finally write out some really basic ideas. At least these don't have to be our final plans, and I'll have a chance to change or finalize my topic after getting some feedback from my professor.

My shitty ideas include flowers (they're pretty), beach landscapes (I'm near the beach), and food photography (I like food). All of these could be cool in their own ways, but I'm definitely not putting in the energy at the moment to visualize an actual end goal. I just want to write some somewhat meaningful sounding reasons why and how I envision this working.

I'd really like to get to the next part of my day or almost night at this point: lying on the couch and watching shows until I fall asleep.