Out of Order Love

Chapter One: A Ringing Headache

I wake to a headache pounding against my temples. Peeking my eyes open, I squint at the light that is pouring into the room from the barley open curtains. I sink my head further into the pillow, hiding from the morning. Five more minutes, then I'll get up and get ready. I take in the comfort of the smooth sheets against my skin, stretching my legs against the comforter, and curling my arms back under the pillow in an attempt to fall back asleep. Until, I come to the realization that my bare chest is pressed into the mattress. "Oh shit." I breathe as I sit up, groaning at the slight pain in my head as I do. I grab at the sheets before they pool around my waist . "Am I naked?" My voice is barely above a whisper as I check under the covers only to pull them to their original place. "Yup, definitely naked. Fuck." I sit there for a moment, dragging my fingers through my messy, tangled hair, now realizing that this is not the shared room that I had been staying in with Emily. Slowly I crawl out of bed, dragging the sheet with me to the door.

A man's agitated voice is heard from the other side, most likely trying to figure out what happened too. I open the door and poke my head out, seeing him leaning over the small kitchen counter, hand raking through his hair, clad in only a pair of boxers. "How is this going to work-" he groaned, leaning closer to the counter. "I posted it on Instagram and Twitter?" He pauses, "It's not like I can just tell them that it was a joke-" he begins to turn, and I begin to panic, - "especially now that the media has seen it-" He cuts himself off when his eyes fall on me standing in the doorway staring wide-eyed back.

I swallow hard, mumbling, "Nope, not happening." I close the door before crawling back into bed and throwing the discarded comforter over my body. No way Tom Holland had been standing in the other room. It just wasn't possible.

The door creaks open, feet cautiously shuffle across the floor. The bed dips and he lets out a long sigh. "Hi-" he takes in a breath- "I'm going to continue to talk quietly since my head is pounding and I am sure yours is as well." He pauses, most likely collecting his thoughts, "I don't really know where to start-"

"Did you use a condom?" I interject.

"Pardon?" His voice quivers.

"Did you use a condom? I mean, I'm on the pill, but I would feel better-"

"Oh, oh!" He jumps up from the bed, "yes, we- I did. We're good."

"Okay, um-"

"Tom."

"Right." I state quietly, "do- do you happen to know where my clothes are? I really haven't been able..." My voice trails as I hide under the covers further.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah" his voice switches to the Queens accent as he shuffles around the room. "Um,-"

"(Y/N)"

"(Y/N), I am just going to give you a shirt because whatever you wore last night is, uh, unwearable?" His voice goes up a few octaves, embarrassment evident in it.

"Not even going to ask," I whisper, sticking my hand out from under the pile of covers to grab the article of clothing. As soon as it is placed into my palm, I pulled it under with me and shifted enough to pull it over my head. Finally, I sit up and let the covers bunch at my waist looking at him standing a few feet from the bed. "So, uh, I really don't remember much."

"Yeah, we were both completely wasted; but,-" he runs a hand through his hair- "we may have, gotten married? And I may havepostedittosocialmedia." His eyes stare at me in fear and curiosity.

I open and close my mouth trying to find the right words. I glance down to my hands and see a very fake wedding band on my left ring finger.

Before I can get word out, my phone lights up on the bedside table. With a quick glance to him, which he responds wordlessly by gesturing toward my phone, I grab it and answer. "Emily-"