play the game | l.h [on hold]

14. oh my god, you're a whore!

OH MY GOD, YOU'RE A WHORE!

━

Luke peeled open his eyes, the blinding light in his hotel room sending a shooting pain through his skull. His head pounded and he immediately shut his eyes to block out the light, a quiet groan escaping his lips as he brought his hand to cover his face.

Or, he tried to, because when we went to move his arm, he found that it was blocked by something — blocked by someone.

His blue eyes hastily squinted open to see Sawyer, asleep and curled up beside him, her body lying peacefully atop his arm as he held her.

How the hell did I end up here?

Confusion and shock coursed through him as he attempted to recall anything that happened last night. He tried to muster up any explanation as to why he was laying beside the band's photographer in his hotel room, naked.

He managed to pull his eyes from her and scan over the room, quickly coming to the realization that this was, in fact, not his hotel room as he had initially thought it was. Fuck, we're in her room.

A sudden moment of panic flooded over him. How am I supposed to move my arm without waking her up? Should I wake her up? Does she even know I'm here?

Taking a quiet, deep breath, he began to gingerly maneuver his arm from underneath the girl. As soon as she began to stir in her sleep, he quickly halted and stared at her in anticipation, waiting impatiently for her small movements to cease. Once he was sure that she was done moving, he continued to work at freeing his arm, fortunately doing so without facing any more troubles.

Placing his feet on the carpet and ignoring the aching pain in his head, he immediately caught sight of the used condom laying on the floor near the nightstand. "Fucking hell," he whispered to himself. Drunk Luke is disgusting, he thought as he hesitantly picked it up and tossed it in the trash bin with a grimace plastered on his face.

His eyes traveled around the room in a rush as he began searching for his discarded clothing items. There was no sign of his shirt, and he was worried that he'd have to take the elevator to the fourteenth floor topless, but he soon caught sight of the cream colored material in the corner near the door.

After hurriedly throwing his clothes on, he double checked to make sure he had his wallet and phone before taking one last glance at the girl. No matter how much Luke wanted to stay — because, God, he wanted to stay — he knew that he needed to leave before she woke up.

He pulled the door open and shut it as quietly as he could before swiftly walking to the elevator, every step jolting his brain and causing a pained wince. His shoelaces weren't tied, his shirt was missing a button toward the bottom, and his hair was a disastrous mess. The rough night was clearly displayed through his appearance and he did not need anybody seeing him — or snapping any photos and leaking them for the public eye.

As he stood in the moving elevator, he racked every corner of his brain, desperately trying to remember anything from last night. He recalled sitting in a booth at the bar with Calum, taking shots, and messaging Blake at some point — the specificities of that conversation foggy. No matter how hard he tried to fill in the empty blanks with missing details, he wasn't able to do it.

The doors slid open and Luke plodded toward his room with his eyes fixated on the ugly pattern of the carpeted hallway, wanting nothing more than an entire bottle of Aspirin and a long nap. Fortunately, there wasn't anything he had planned for the day, as the first show in Glasgow wasn't until tomorrow.