𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐮𝐲 ➺ 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓎 & 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃

11. Don't Lie To Me

My own nausea jolted awake, disrupting my peaceful slumber. As I slowly rose from my foetal position, the stiffness in my back made its presence known. Squinting through bleary eyes, I struggled to adjust to the morning light, which only intensified the pounding in my head. It was clear I wasn't in my own flat, and vague memories of watching Queen perform at The King's Head the night before started to surface.

Brushing my hair out of my face, I surveyed the room, eventually spotting Freddie sprawled face-down on the floor, snoring lightly. A chuckle escaped my lips as I took a deep breath, trying to alleviate the stiffness in my neck and catch a glimpse of who I had spent the night next to.

To my relief, it was Brian, his presence providing some comfort in the midst of my hazy confusion. However, my relief quickly turned to panic as I noticed a dark smudge of lipstick stretching from his lips to his jaw and down his neck.

"Oh, no..." I mumbled under my breath, furrowing my eyebrows. What the hell did I do? Did I shag him? No... Oh my God, I probably made a complete dick out of myself. What's wrong with me?

Before I had a chance to dwell on my imagined antics, I heard footsteps approaching from upstairs and the creaking of the floorboards on the stairs. In a rush of panic, I hastily disentangled myself from Brian's embrace and rested my head on the other side of the sofa, closing my eyes tightly. Maybe if I pretend to be asleep, whoever was coming downstairs would think nothing of it.

For a moment, I almost succeeded in drifting back to sleep, but my attempt was abruptly interrupted by a hand shaking me. I recognised Emma's touch, her voice laced with a hint of panic as she whispered my name.

Groaning deliberately, I opened my eyes and squinted up at her. "Emma? What's wrong?"

"We have to go," she whispered urgently, glancing between me and Brian to ensure he wouldn't wake up. "Right now."

"Why? What's going on?" I asked, slowly sitting up and raising an eyebrow.

"Just... Can we leave? Please? I'm desperate," Emma pleaded, her worry palpable. It was unusual for her to be so on edge this early in the morning.

"Alright, yeah," I nodded getting up from the sofa and trying to stretch, although time was not on my side. Before I could fully extend my muscles, Emma grabbed my arm and practically dragged me out of the house without a word to anyone.

"Emma, what's happening?" I asked her once we had walked a fair distance back to our flat, my feet throbbing in agony from the heels I had worn. We weren't in any condition to maintain a brisk pace, both of us too hungover to focus on anything other than our own misery.

"I'm so embarrassed..." Emma mumbled, her voice filled with self-doubt as she bumped into people rushing to get to work early on that Saturday morning.

"Why? What did you do?" I raised my voice slightly, growing impatient with her lack of explanation.

"Can you not speak so loud?" Emma hissed at me, pulling me closer.

"Well, just tell me already!" I whispered back, frustration seeping into my voice.

Emma hesitated, but eventually sighed, leaning closer to my ear. "I got my period."

I furrowed my eyebrows, pulling away from her. "And why is that embarrassing?"

"Because..." Emma scratched her arm nervously. "It's all over Roger's sheets..."

My eyes widened, and I grabbed her arm. "Emma! He's going to think you've killed him and he's bled out or something."

"I didn't know what to do. It's never happened to be before!" she exclaimed, sounding distressed.

Sighing, I shook my head. "He's a grown man, I'm sure he'll understand."