Crash Love (A Niall Horan Fanfic)

Chapter Four

I wake up, my head pounding and it's so bright I can barely keep my eyes open for even a second. I groaned and rolled over, burying my head in the super comfy pillows that smell like vanilla and raspberries. I squint one eye open. Hold on. This isn't my sheets! Mine were galaxy ones, dark blue with stars on them and this one is clean plain white cotton. 

I can remember anything from last night after our food arrive at Le Oregon and I don't even remember what it tastes like, though it must've been pretty damn fantastic. A label's poking my arm and  I pushed it aside, annoyed. My head's pounding and I wish I didn't drink so much champagne last night. It's CRISTAL. And it was practically free! 

5000 thread count. 100% Eygptian cotton stares right back at me and I blinked. Where the hell did I get 5000 thread count sheets? This is ridiculous, no one can afford bloody 5000 thread count sheets! WHY do you need 5000 threads in a sheet anyway? All you do is mess it all up. I don't even bloody remember earning enough to buy these. But damn, they're so ridiculously soft!! I rubbed my cheek against one, it's like satin.

Carefully, I raised my pillow and my head explodes in pain. I grabbed manically for my sunglasses I know are on the night stand but it's not there. Did someone move it? I don't even feel anything. I squinted one eye open and it's not dark wood I'm staring at, it's pale blonde wood. Did someone change everything in my room? 

The walls are light blue, not yellow like I thought. God, I'm never getting this drunk ever again. I'm freaking hallucinating. 

Finally I managed to open my eyes and stagger to the bathroom, where it's thankfully dark and cool. The room was way too bright and warm. I don't flip on a light as I washed my face, reaching for my cleanser on the ledge. Nothing. It's empty.

God is someone pranking me? I'm wide awake as I opened my eyes and look closely. The bathroom's tiled in beautiful ocean blue mosaic tiles and marble. My bathroom's plain white tiles. 

WHAT IS HAPPENING??

I wiped my face dry and walked back into the room. It's got a massive bed, a pretty matching blonde wood dresser and a white fur shag carpet with dark wood floors. This is NOT my room. God, am I kidnapped? I tried to ignore the pounding in my head as I chugged down a glass of water which tasted like metal. 

Carefully I opened the bedroom door (it's not locked, so I most definitely aren't kidnapped). Then I noticed I'm wearing a pink silk nightgown with sheep on them and I don't have ANY silk pjs at all. They're too expensive. Most of my pajamas are oversized football T-shirts, ripped shorts or pajama bottoms with holes in the knees. 

I'm definitely kidnapped.

I look around for the clothes I came in, opening drawers on the dresser. Only neatly ironed and folded men's shirts and huge jeans. I'll have to face my kidnappers wearing a silk pink nightgown, it's really short. Barely skimming the bottom of my thighs with spagetti straps and a extremely low neckline.

I feel so exposed. And I don't have shoes.

I wander slowly across the cream hallway with a wonderfully warm carpet and tasteful painting, half are artists I know. LeBaski, George Lee, Kenny Woodland... Their work costs hundreds and are displayed in galleries worldwide. I stared at the wonderful wood landscape by Kenny, admiring the way he somehow managed to capture sunlight glinting off the leaves and the totally lifelike way he somehow made the wood look like REAL wood. I touched it gently, feeling the little blobs of paint. At least my kidnappers had decent taste in art.

Maybe I should grab a weapon. I'm pretty sure they just took the keys to some mansion so the cops have no idea. You don't keep prisoners in little cabins in the middle of the woods anymore, people get suspicious. Huge mansions in the middle of a bustling city are less suspicious. No one doubts the rich people.