Long Weekend In Miami (It Can Turn Your World Around)

The Morning After

Somebody was calling her and whoever it was they were about to meet an untimely death. Seriously, why were people obsessed with waking her so early? Still half asleep Shayne snaked a hand from under the covers and groped for her phone on the nightstand only to discover it wasn't there. She reached down to the floor. Nope, not there either. What the hell...?

But it was all good, because the ringing stopped. The phone had been answered.

"Sup, man?"

She sighed and closed her eyes again. She needed at least another three hours of sleep. But the pain in her head was splitting apart her skull and she needed a painkiller and - wait...who had answered her phone?

"Yeah, I was with her. We went out to eat and I put her in a cab. I was the perfect gentleman," said the voice.

From somewhere behind her.

Okay...well...clearly something wasn't right and she knew that because she slept alone and had done for the last few months.

Wincing at the pain behind her eyes, Shayne's vision was foggy as she tried to focus on the wall in front of her. She didn't recognize anything around her. All she knew was this was definitely not her hotel room. The walls were a plain white brick with a few graffiti prints hanging here and there, at the window there was a half drawn roller shade, on the floor by the window a pair of jeans and some sneakers, and other than that nothing was familiar about any of it.

She attempted to turn over, quietly groaning as the pain in her head followed like an obedient puppy. But right now it was the least pressing of her problems. The person beside her was still talking on the phone and through the fog that invaded her mind; she realized she did recognize something. It took her a moment, but then she got it. She recognized the voice.

Oh God.

If she'd been standing her stomach would've dropped to the floor.

Oh God, please don't let me be right about this.

After a minor struggle she eventually managed to get      onto her other side just as Chris turned his head and gave her a wink. He was flat on his back, one arm behind his head, as he spoke into the mouthpiece of the phone.

Her stomach dropped anyway.

There were times she hated being right.

Maybe she was dreaming. Because this couldn't be happening. She couldn't have spent the night with Núñez.

With Ami's best friend.

Oh God.

But surely she'd have remembered if they'd had sex? She didn't feel like she'd had sex, but she couldn't be certain because the booze was still numbing her brain and she just couldn't remember. Had she really been that drunk last night? How could she not remember having sex?

This was bad.

She tried to block out Chris's voice and think, but the pounding in her skull and the fact that she could barely remember a thing wasn't helping her cause any. She forced herself to piece it all together, even if it did make the headache worse; and slowly it came back to her. The gig at Ted's, the shots contest, pizza...losing her key card...

...and kissing him in the back of the cab.

Oh my God.

Chris was still looking at her like he was expecting her to say something and because she couldn't take the staring she rolled away from him, trying to get her body into an upright, sitting position; which was a struggle in itself because her body wasn't doing anything she wanted it to this morning. Shame it hadn't done the same thing last night. It felt like an army of soldiers were stomping around her head and they were all wearing lead boots. Her stomach burned and her mouth was as dry as the Sahara and for some odd reason her entire body ached. Her jeans were on the floor by the bed and her phone was sticking out the back pocket. She grabbed it and saw she had a few missed calls and texts and a good few were from Ami.