The Prince of Royalty (PREVIOUSLY ROYALTY HAS ITS PERKS; UNDER MAJOR EDITING)

5

I woke up on my side with a groan, my head pounding. My mouth tasted awful and my skin was clammy, as if I'd been sweating. Disgusting. I opened one eye, regretting it immediately as the sun temporarily blinded me. I frowned, my eyes still shut as I realized that it wasn't my window that the sun was shining through. I carefully opened my eyes, wincing at the brightness and blinking rapidly. When my eyes were as adjusted as they'd get, I looked around, moving my head as little as possible as not to worsen my headache.

This is not my room, this is not my room, this is not my room.

I frowned as a breeze from the rotating ceiling fan slid across my chest. My bare chest. I looked down, furrowing my eyebrows at my naked torso. I frowned even deeper when I realized there was an arm draped over my waist. And my frowned only deepened as my eyes landed on the gold, heart shaped ring on the hand. My heart sank to my feet as my brain put small pieces of the night before together, and I couldn't help but pick up the hand and examine it.

Maybe it's not his, I thought hopelessly. But there was no denying it. I lifted up the thin sheet that was covering my bottom half, blanching when I realized it was bare as well. I attempted to shift when I felt something brush against the back of my ass. I froze, my eyes widening.

"Fuck," I whispered. As I tried to wiggle out from beneath his arm, I sat up and my lower back and butt pressed against the bed. I yelped involuntarily, a sharp and overall indescribable pain shooting through my abdomen and hips, as well as my upper thighs. It wasn't an excruciating pain by any means, but it was unexpected, and that was upsetting. Tears sprung to my eyes at the frustration, and I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to stand up. I quickly picked up my boxers and pulled them on.

Taking a deep breath, I turned around, and there was my truth. Dean Scott, lying in his bed, eyes shut and face relaxed. And from what I felt earlier, he was naked as well. My eyes widened as he stirred, and I quickly but quietly picked up the rest of my clothes. When I thought I'd had everything, I glanced at Dean once more, wishing this was all a dream. I scurried out of the room, putting my pants on once I was at the front door. I shoved my arms into the sleeves of my shirt and didn't bother buttoning it, rushing out of the apartment.

Seconds later, when I got back to my place, I slammed my front door, locked it, and pressed my back against the cool wood. I squeezed my eyes shut, straining my brain for any possible memories of the night before. But nothing came to mind. Nothing at all.

I sighed deeply, forcing myself off of the door and sulking into the bathroom. I was perplexed, but I needed to shower first before I tried any harder to remember the details of the previous night. I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes widening at the sight of a dark, purple mark in the crook of my neck. I pulled at the skin and leaned in, trying to get a better look at it. I groaned, turning away from my reflection.

"This is why I don't drink," I mumbled, frustrated with myself, twisting the shower knob and adjusting the temperature.

When I was all cleaned up -- freshly showered with brushed teeth, the taste of stale alcohol no longer roaming my mouth -- I trudged into my kitchen, now dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a black t-shirt. I needed food to think straight, but the thought of breakfast food made me nauseous. I looked to the oven clock, finding that my disinterest in morning food wouldn't be a problem, considering it was nearly one in the afternoon. I sighed again for what felt like the millionth time and I was becoming lightheaded, before snatching up my keys and leaving my apartment. The choice proved itself stupid as soon as I heard another door close down the hall. I squeezed my eyes shut, wondering if I could slip back into my place before he noticed me.

"Hey, Johnny." Well, there goes that thought. I slowly turned to Dean, my eyes widening at the sight of him. He was half naked, only a towel covering his lower half and his top half dripping with water. With his hands behind his back securely, my mouth dried as I noticed the red marks littered across his lower abdomen. Dean followed my gaze, his lip twitching.