The Game We Play *Editing*

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My head is pounding. My mouth is dry and I'm freezing. I squeeze my eyes shut to avoid the light coming in through the window. I think my brain has a heartbeat right now. I try my best to push through the haze of my thoughts. I might throw up. I shift and lean further into the bed. Has my bed always been this comfy? I take a deep breath and freeze. Is that cologne? I snap my eyes open and get nice look at a jersey. A Tampa Bag jersey.

Oh no.

This is not my room at my parent's house. This is not my bed.

Oh no. Oh no, no.

The memories from last night come flooding into my brain. The drinking, heavy drinking, dancing. Trying to get into the Uber and coming home with-

There's no way.

I sit up quickly holding the grey sheets to my chest feeling the cold air against my back. I glance around the room but no one else is in here with me. We didn't sleep together that's good.

My eyes travel around the room again and I notice the clothing as random items of Tampa Bay Buccaneer merchandise. I glance at the bedside table. My phone, my purse, a glass of water, and Tylenol. I can't help the way my stomach dips. Carson. Sweet Carson.

I tap my phone screen and my eyes bulge. Fuck.

The room spins and it's not just from the hangover. Why didn't I just shove myself into that other Uber? I swear if this is the universe pulling us together I'm going to lose it. The world spins again and I close my eyes. I can't throw up right now. I move slowly and remove the comforter from on top of my legs. I stand up and take step forward. My foot immediately gets caught on something and I fall face first onto the hardwood floor with a thud.

"Ow."

I hear footsteps coming down the hallway but I don't move. I think I just broke a hip. I hear the door open and a frantic Carson, "Beckham? Are you okay?"

I hear him round the bed and the silence. I don't have to lift my face up to know he's laughing.

"This is not funny," I mumble into what I think is a sweatshirt.

"I'm not laughing," Carson says as I lift my head up. He has a smile on his face and I roll my eyes.

"You could help me you know."

I tense as I feel him untangle my legs. I quickly push away from him and sit on my butt.

"You're welcome," he says with a sigh. I let out a long breath and mumble a 'thanks.'

"Now, I have to go," I push myself up and hurriedly head towards his bedroom door. I have to get out of her right now. I grab my phone, clutch, heels and purse. I open my phone and see Brooke texted me.

Dude, tell me right now if Carson actually lives in the penthouse.

"Oh! Oh my god," I say as I drop my clutch out of my hands. Carson and I both look down at the clutch and simultaneously go to grab it. My head comes in contact with his making both of us yelp. Brooke's face pops up over the screen and my phone begins to ring.

"Ow."

I snatch the phone up with my hand over my forehead and answer the phone.

"Beckham, what the hell are you doing!" she yells once again over the phone. Carson quickly snatches the clutch off of the ground and hands it to me holding his own head.

"Yes okay, coming."

I hang up quickly from the conversation and look at Carson who looks just as confused as I do.

"Well, um see you at brunch?" With that I swing open his apartment door and book it down the hallway to what I hope would be the elevator or stairs. My shoes are dangling from my hands and this is the worlds worst situation ever.

I have no pants on and I am a god damn hungover mess. Worse walk of not shame ever.

I press the elevator button quickly and slide my shoes on as fast as I can. I probably look like absolute trash right now and now I have to go to my sisters engagement brunch.

Gosh this fucking sucks.

I'm fucking screwed.

His team has become his family. So, me sleeping with Carson is not good. Not good at all. Liam and Willow are an exception because they were dating in college and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers happened to get him. It just all fell into place of course the paparazzi had a lot to say about that but we all just ignore them for the most part.

If this gets out though, they will have a field day. Damnit, Beckham. The one time you do this.

I step out of the elevator and rush quickly past the everyone in the lobby to the exit. I recognize a familiar Honda Civic.

How the-

I step out the doors into the hot Florida heat. Brooke's window is down and she is staring up at the apartment building in awe. I can tell she is roughing it out from last night and is hungover but at least she isn't in the same dress she wore last night.

I swing open the door making her jump in her seat as I breathe heavily rolling up the window. I launch myself in the backseat of the car before she has time to say anything.

"Drive! We are going to be so fucking late!" I yell grabbing the black dress laying across the backseat. Brooke turns around violently.

"That's all you are going to tell me! Do you see this apartment complex your dad must pay him-"

"Brooke! We don't have time I will explain some of it on the way! Just drive!" I screech at her. She sighs flipping her brown hair out of the way turning back around. She presses her foot against the gad pedal roughly making me almost lose balance mid change.

"You are so fucking lucky I have you on find my friends or you'd be fucked," she says as I slide the dress over my head. I toss my bra and old dress to the side. I can't believe this is happening. Wait a damn minute, where the fuck is my real underwear. I'm in Carson's boxers.

I blame Trevor. My theory is to always blame your ex. For everything.