Wanted by The Wanted | ✔️

|| EIGHT ||

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GOD," I shriek to myself, pacing back and forth in the hotel room as the effects of the alcohol are overshelmed by feeling of remorse and embarrassment, "I'm never drinking again."

That wasn't Oscar - that was Trent. I just made out with Trent. I just stripped down to lingerie for Trent. Lingerie I'm still only in and am fucking freezing in. Oh fucking nuggets I'm so screwed. Oscar's gonna kil- wait. Even if it had been Oscar, would I have done that?

Oh shut up, logical side, I would've made sure you fucked that fine ass, my drunk mind says. After hearing voices, I crumble onto the bed and pull the duvet over my bare skin, facing away from the door and feigning sleep.

"-sex with her?" Oscar's voice sounds like he wants to throttle Trent.

"No, I swear! She was drunker than my cousin Lilo on New Years! I would never take advantage of her like that!" Trent's defensive tone opposes, "And besides, I knew you'd castrate me."

"Then why did you kiss her in the first place?!" Oscar interrogates, as I pray that they won't notice me.

"It was just a body shot, and besides, she thought I..." Trent clears his throat and stops.

A silence sweeps over the hotel room for a while. A burning gaze pierces the back of my head. Fuck.

Oscar sighs, "I know you're awake, Avyn."

I gnaw away at the handful of duvet I had forced into my mouth upon them entering. The part of me that's still drunk persuades me to say, "Are you mad?"

He exhales deeply, "You were drunk," he states, but it doesn't answer my question, "You are drunk."

Then again, I can probably deduce that he's pretty fucking livid with how calm and eerily level his voice is.

"Why did you take a body shot with him? And why the fuck are you in lingerie?" Oscar turns his interview to me as I feel the bed dip down, as if he was leaning over it with his hands on the mattress.

I can't tell him I did the shot because I thought Trent was him - that's unbelievably embarrassing: like kill-me-now-and-bury-me-six-feet-under embarrassing.

"I'm drunk, alcohol makes you do silly things," I answer, though it comes out in a questioning tone.

"You're lying. Look at me when you talk to me."

A shudder runs down my spine. Whether it's one of pleasure or fear at his dominating voice, I don't know. I hesitantly turn around, flinching when he leans closer. Trent is now in the background, and I can confirm that he looks absolutely nothing like Oscar. And is only a third as attractive.

Anyway. Back to Oscar.

"Why did you take a body shot with him? Did you like it?" he forces out through a tight jaw.

Man, he's sexy when he's mad. Look at those dreamy eyes and full lips... Oh shoot, I better reply.

"No," I say in a wavering tone, "But drunk me wanted a distraction."

Oh no, you shouldn't have said that. A vein is practically rupturing in his neck. Good job, Av. I shuffle back, anticipating the explosion that is sure to arrive.

"Why? You didn't answer my first question - why?" he asks repeatedly.

I can't tell him the truth, that's signing my own death certificate. DEATH BY BODY SHOT. Man, that sounds like a new horror movie.

Trent waves slightly, "Okay, I'm going to go now, have fun," he chuckles sheepishly before side-stepping out and closing the door behind him.

Oscar's dark eyes meet mine, challenging, "Stop lying to me."