When the Game Changed (Ryan Haywood x OC) (Fake AH Crew)

Chapter 8

AN: I am so sorry for the wait. The past few months got really, really busy for me! But I will try to make a come back guys! So enjoy!

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The next morning was utterly hell.

After a short night of sleeping and rolling around uncomfortably on the couch, Dakota woke subtly, but it didn't stop her from falling off of the edge onto the wood floor, somewhere in the process hitting her head on the coffee table. The impact made it throb even more than it already was, and she swore that her brain was rattling around inside of her skull.

The room was bright, too fucking bright, and the golden rays filled it to the brim, dust motes floating around freely like millions of little specks swimming in an airy sea.

She couldn't think straight. Everything that came to mind would either become cloudy, or she couldn't make sense of it and pushed it away so she didn't have to suffer from any more vicious throbbing. It didn't help that she nearly gave herself a damn concussion.

With a deep sigh, Dakota grabbed the table and propped herself up without ease, then sluggishly got to her feet. Her throat felt dry and it burned heavily, and before she knew it, she was heading towards the kitchen and stopped in front of the fridge. Her hand gripped the metal handle and opened the door, but upon inspection, Dak groaned.

"Of course when I'm hungover there'd be no water," the woman grumbled and rubbed her face with her palms.

She had no idea where to go from there. Her thoughts were so muddy that it seemed impossible to make one that was complete and collected. Thinking just made it even worse. So Dakota stood wearily, deciding whether or not to actually think about her next move, when it finally hit her that the lobby had a bar. Had a fridge with bottled water on the inside. And that was all the motivation she needed to head out of her apartment and down the hallway, but not without stealing a glance at Ryan's closed door next to her own.

When her legs tried to linger a little too long while trying to figure out if the man was within his apartment, Dak had to force herself to continue on her quest to the bottom level. She wondered what made her even stop, but immediately shook it off and found the elevator, pushing the button and stepping inside once it arrived.

The short ride took forever in her mind as all of the aches and pains and dry sensations blended into one, and as every little bit of light pouring from the ceiling of the elevator started to blind her thoroughly. She tried to shield her eyes, but as soon as she did, the doors sprung open and she practically dove out and speed-walked to the bar in the lobby.

The woman immediately found the fridge tucked away behind the wooden bar, and she opened it and grabbed one of the bottles of water without hesitation and began to chug it vigorously. The cold liquid soothed her aching throat, and she sighed in relief and shut her eyes while leaning back onto the island filled with expensive bottles of alcohol behind her.

The night before was a blur and there was nothing that she could vividly remember from the club. It was like as soon as she started to become tipsy that everything just got tossed from her memory, and it made her a bit upset that she couldn't remember how she acted. Dak could admit that when she got drunk, it could be pretty messy sometimes, and she didn't want to make herself seem like a complete fool in front of her newly found friends and crew members. But even as she stood and reminisced on the last night, she had a gut feeling that most of them were too drunk to even notice any possible stupid acts that she could have committed.

Then it hit her. The only thing that she remembered about the club was leaving it, and she wasn't alone, because suddenly in the cloudiness of her mind, she could see Ryan slinging her arm over his shoulder and lugging her alcohol-weighted body out of the building and into a car. She could see the way that he carefully placed her inside and double checked to make sure that her seat belt was strapped on tight, and the way that he would methodically answer her blabbering questions that she repeated over and over.