Dear Lando - Book Two

𝟸𝟽 ♡ Escape

Escape By Rupert Holmes

Lana's eyes blinked open slowly, the unfamiliar surroundings adding to the pounding confusion in her head. A soft groan escaped her lips as she tried to piece together where she was. Her mouth felt dry as sandpaper, and her head throbbed in protest at the sunlight streaming through the window.

She shifted slightly, her body feeling strange—like she wasn't alone. As the realization dawned, her eyes shot open wider, a new panic bubbling up inside her. There was an arm wrapped around her waist, warm and heavy, and she could feel the bare skin pressed against her back.

Oh. My. God. Her heart raced, and she froze in place. Lana cautiously turned her head, her eyes landing on the tousled curls of the person beside her—Lando. And... he was shirtless. Her pulse quickened even more, her thoughts jumping to the worst conclusions.

Did they...?

She slowly glanced down at herself, her body tense with anticipation. Relief flooded her as she realized she was still in her underwear. No sign of missing clothes strewn around, nothing overly compromising. Okay, okay... maybe it wasn't as bad as she feared.

Lana carefully wriggled her way out of Lando's grasp, trying not to wake him. He mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep, his arm reaching out to where she'd been, before settling back onto the pillow. She stood there for a second, taking in the sight of his messy hair and relaxed expression—but only for a moment before shaking her head, trying to refocus her thoughts.

She tiptoed out of the room, her head still spinning, and made her way to the kitchen. She desperately needed water—something to alleviate this hangover from hell. The moment she entered the kitchen, she stopped in her tracks, her hand going to her mouth to stifle a laugh.

It looked like a scene from a bad sitcom. A blender, still half-full with creamy pina coladas, sat on the counter, its scent mingling with the sweet aroma of rum and coconut that hung heavily in the air. Half-empty cups were scattered across the kitchen, some tipped over, alongside the remnants of their creation—coconut cream, pineapple juice, and an almost-empty bottle of rum haphazardly left nearby.

Nat was sprawled out across the kitchen island, one leg hanging off the edge while her head rested atop a pile of throw pillows. She had sunglasses on—indoors—and an empty champagne bottle clutched in one hand like it was her lifeline.

Theo, meanwhile, was lying on the floor, halfway under the dining table, using a stack of kitchen towels as a makeshift pillow. He had a mixing bowl beside him with "JUST IN CASE" written on a sticky note attached to it. His arm was stretched out, fingers loosely holding a wooden spoon as if he'd fallen asleep mid-drum solo.

Then there was Max, sitting upright in a chair—kind of. His torso was slumped forward, his head resting on the table, mouth open, and a party hat somehow still perched on his head. He had a half-eaten slice of pizza stuck to his cheek, and there was a small pile of confetti in front of him, like he'd passed out mid-celebration.

Lana couldn't hold back her laughter this time, a snort escaping her as she took in the scene. Nat stirred slightly at the sound, lifting her head just enough to peer at Lana over her sunglasses.

"Water," Nat croaked, her voice barely above a whisper, like anything louder would break her. "Please, for the love of everything, water."

Lana nodded, opening a cabinet and grabbing a few glasses. She filled them all up, distributing them around the room like she was some sort of hungover Good Samaritan. She handed Nat a glass first, then knelt beside Theo to nudge him awake, offering him the water.

Theo blinked at her, disoriented, before mumbling, "Did we... win something last night?"

Lana smirked. "Yeah, Theo, you won the award for most creative sleeping spot."