(Chasity's POV)
Everything smells like Axl the second I wake up.
The fluffy white bed sheets, the pillows, the black Sunset Strip Tattoo t-shirt, the boxers covering my legs.
Oh my god.
Despite how badly my head pounds, I see that the bed is big. At least a queen, but probably a king. It looks like it goes on forever, spreading out from the center of the room.
On the night stand rests a pack of cigarettes. Marlboro Reds. Next to them, an ash tray, and a pair of glasses. On the floor, are two stacks of books in a corner, beside a dresser. There's a record player on the top, and the album propped up against it reads "ZZ TOP". The closet door at the other side of the room is half open, and inside it's filled to the brim with clothes.
This room must belong to Axl.
"Oh my god."
I'm in Axl's room. I'm in his bed. I don't know how, or why.
I look beside me, nearly expecting to see him asleep. But he isn't. The sheets are perfectly made still, the pillow looking untouched.
On the floor is my prom dress, but no clothing that could be Axl's. Nothing looks out of place in here, except for what I've added to it.
I let out a sigh of relief. But not before letting myself fall back onto the bed, spreading my arms wide.
I slept in Axl's bed last night.
As I lay in silence, I realize that I can hear faint voices, familiar ones.
I can't be bothered to get up, though. This is like a dream. If I think about it too much, it might end. I've never even been to the band's apartment before, yet here I am, in a t-shirt I've seen on Axl plenty of times, in his BED.
Then last night hits me like a pile of bricks. What I can remember, at least.
How much I started to drink. Dylan pinning me to the ground. Axl beating the living shit out of him. The pictures.
Oh, jesus. Those fucking pictures. I don't even know what they're of! Axl and I, obviously. But when? Doing what? Oh my god.
When I tell him, he's going to flip out.
I try to not even think about that, before I pass out as I lay here.
Calm down. You don't know that it was him! Relax.
As I take a deep breath in, I'm hit with another wave of Axl. His cologne, maybe aftershave. Whatever it is, it's familiar enough for me to conclude that it's the same scent I smell when I kiss him.
Jesus Christ. When I kiss him. Chasity, this has got to stop. I'm ruining his life every time I kiss him.
Knowing that makes me feel awful. Horrible.
I could cry just thinking about it, but I don't think I have enough energy for that. I still feel so terrible. I can feel my pulse in my head.
The sound of the door creaking open hurts, making me bury my head in the pillows.
"Chassy, I know you're awake."
My stomach drops, in the best way possible.
"Why am I in your bed?" I ask, my voice muffled by the comforter. I don't bother to look behind me, at where he probably stands in the doorway, looking like a god. I can't face him, not when I've found myself in this situation.
