AN: to previous readers, I included a new scene in this rewrite
When Peep drifted in a bad somber, Olivia took the pillow from his arms and laid on the floor. She was quite intrigued by his way of seeing the world.
- -
In the morning, Olivia woke and immediately knew she'd been moved onto the bed. Beside her, the jersey she left in his tour bus was perfectly folded.
In a slight haze of thought, she stood up and grabbed onto its silky fabric and placed it into the bottom of her travel bag. Sleepily, she walked away and scoped out the room for her phone. It sat on the bedside table.
It was nearly 10 AM when she took into her possession and walked to the bathroom to get ready. As she brushed her teeth, her eyes absorbed the increasing number of followers she had on Instagram. The engagement she was receiving was divided between obsesses over an iconic figure to admiring her skills in photographer.
It was in that moment, she decided to always like and reply to three followers per day. It was least she could do.
In the span of thirty minutes, she got ready and uploaded a picture to her story:
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"Olivia!" Wigs called from outside her door. Gathering her packed stuff, she made way to the door and opened to see her set entourage posted against the wall.
"Took you long enough." Mark commented, picking up his case of editing tools.
"Probably— because I'm a girl." She spat causing Wigs to laugh aloud as they all continued down the hall.
However, every thought and movement came to a stop when they approached Peep's open hotel room and inside there was a loud commotion. Specifically from the bathroom as the shower head screamed over them.
"What's going on?" Wig intruded, placing his things down at the entrance.
"Peep just took three more pills!" Bexey replied.
"As if you give a shit." Peep stated, sitting in pouring water. He was loud enough for Olivia to hear as she stood in the hallway with Mark.
"For Christ sake Peep!" Bexey expressed, "You're fucking up your tour!"
"I'm not the one who bought the pills— you did." Peep spat with a dry laugh.
"What do we tell Sandra?" Mark questioned, pulling out his phone looking to Wigs who was the mediator between the bathroom and hallway.
