I wake up to a pounding rattling around my skull. I tug the blanket over my head, trying to block out the small amount of light that is only intensifying the pain. I groan, turning over.

Warmth radiates from the body lying next to me. I immediately shoot up. "Nicole?" I whisper, pushing the blankets down. I gasp when I see brown, tangled hair resting on the person's shoulders. That is not Nicole.

"What the fuck," I whisper to myself, glancing around the room frantically. It's smaller, with a nightstand on both sides of the bed. There's a dresser against the wall and a television mounted across from the bed. I swing my legs over the bed, trying to fight past the nausea that rocks me like a boat in a storm.

I look at the nightstand and ball my fists up at the sight of my missing phone. I lean down on my legs, pressing my face into my hands. What am I supposed to do? I don't know where I'm at or where my phone is. Has anyone even realized that I disappeared?

A wave of dizziness washes over me. My hands tremble as I press them into my face to stop the shaking. I need to get out of here.

I look back at the sleeping body. Is that a woman?

There's no way. I stand up, carefully making my way around the bed. I step over a pair of jeans. I silently lean down to look at the person's face. Not a woman. Why is his hair so long? I curl my nose up, taking a good look at his face. He isn't all that cute.

Before I can back away, he opens up his eyes. They immediately widen and he lets out a shout. I jump backward, surprised. My head hits something hard- probably a mirror or picture frame, if I had to guess. I wince, grabbing my already-pounding head.

"The hell you doing?" he shouts, sitting up this time. His eyes are still wide, scanning my face. His chest heaves up and down with deep, heavy breaths. He's cuter awake, despite his angry, confused expression.

"I thought you were a woman," I manage, sliding down the wall. His brows furrow at this. "Though I was a woman?" he asks, almost offended. "Yeah, your hair is deceiving, and you should probably cut it," I spit, climbing to my feet. He runs his hand over his hair, looking genuinely hurt. "My phone?" I demand, holding my palm out. I see no reason to be gracious to a random hook-up. "Beans got it, you know that."

I furrow my eyebrows, slamming my palms into my legs. "Do you really think I know who Bean is? Or why he'd have my phone?" I seethe, mocking his southern drawl.

"Motherfucker," he breathes, throwing the blanket off him. He snatches the jeans from the ground and yanks them on over his boxers. He pushes past me, stomping out of the room. I follow suit, wrapping my arms around myself uncomfortably. Down a dark hallway and out into a living area, he snatches my phone from the coffee table littered with beer cans and Swisher packs. "Here. Leave," he demands, tossing my phone in the air.

I scrambled to catch it just as he was going to retreat into the room we came from. We bump into one another, and I immediately cry out at the sound of my phone clattering to the ground.

"Look what you did!" I shout, shoving the man away from me. I pick up the device and turn it- a spiderweb of cracks blossoms from the middle of the screen. I turn to him, holding up the phone. "No, no, no, no! Do you see this? What am I supposed to do?!" I demand.

He pulls a wallet from the back pocket of his pants and pulls a couple of bills from it. He throws it at me. I gasp as the money flutters to the floor. Is he serious right now?

"Woah, Moe, that's a dick move," a voice says. I peek behind "Moe" to see another guy- this one with glasses and black hair- emerging from the hallway. "Shut up Mike," he says, turning to the other guy. "Aren't you supposed to be exhibiting southern hospitality, cowboy?" I spit, gripping my broken phone. Moe groans, throwing his head back. "Ain't you gonna leave?"

I cross my arms. "Well, I ain't gonna leave, because I can't call anyone to get me, because my phone is BROKEN!"

The long-haired man rolls his eyes. He juts his chin towards the couch. "Look, sit down. I'll call someone for you. But take my shirt off. That's one of my favorites." I push past him, walking to the room I woke up in this morning. I search for the dress I wore last night- short, white, and covered in tiny pink and purple flowers. The corner of it peaks out from under the bed. I quickly bend down and pick it up. I make an inhumane, angry noise at the sight of a long, jagged rip down the back of my dress. It's ruined.

"Moe!" I yell as loud as I can, fueled with anger, stomping back into the living area. The man is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "Don't call me that. Only my friends call me that. Name's Morgan." I throw my ripped dress at his bare chest. "Well, my dress is ripped, Morgan, and I can only assume it's YOUR fault."

He holds the dress up, examining it. "Well, shit." I cross my arms, waiting for his answer. "Well, Morgan?" He rubs his temples. "Look, I don't know, girl. Just.. here," he says frustratingly, holding out his phone. I yank it from his hand, typing in Nicole's number. The line rings and rings. "Pick up, please," I whisper. "Hello?"

I'm met with Charles' groggy voice. "Charlie?" I ask, picking at the skin on my lip. "Yeah, Juls?" he asks, sounding slightly more awake. I hear Nicole in the background, and Charles telling her to go back to bed. "Can you come get me?" I hear shuffling, and the jingle of keys.

"Yeah, yeah... where are you at? Whose number is this? Are you okay?" I look up at Morgan, who's looking at me with raised eyebrows. "I....I don't know."

Morgan holds out his hand, waiting for the phone. I put the device in his hand. I watch him as he disappears down the hallway, speaking to Charles. I look around. There's a guy passed out on the couch, and 'Mike' from earlier is standing at the counter, fixing coffee. I awkwardly stand in the middle of the room, waiting for something to happen- Morgan to come back, the guy on the couch to wake up, the aliens to invade. Something.

"Here you go." I turn around. Mike is holding out a bottle of aspirin and a bottle of water. I smile graciously, taking both from him. "There's an empty mug next to the coffee pot, if you drink coffee."

"Thank you," I say, swallowing the pills with water. I set the bottle down and approach the coffee machine tucked away in the corner. I grab one of the mugs and pour some of the steaming liquid into the ceramic cup. "So, what's your name?" Mike asks from the island. The accent that coats his words is also southern, but not the same as Morgans.

"It's okay, you don't have to make small talk. I'll be leaving as soon as my ride's here." I offer. He shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. "Well, I'm Micheal." I spoon some sugar into the mug. I don't usually drink my coffee with sugar, but I don't see any flavoring syrups around here, so it'll have to do. I take into consideration the amount of sugar I put into my cup- I can't have too much. This coffee ought to make me feel better, though. "Juliette."

"Oh!" he says, almost like he's coming to a realization. I stir my coffee, waiting for an elaboration. "Moe, she's the girl that Caleigh watches on YouTube!"

My cheeks burn at the recognition. Morgan, who's now in a t-shirt and pair of jogging pants, his long hair wet, looks less than impressed. "Can you not like... mention this to anyone? I get it, I'm kind of famous and I'm sure you want your five minutes of fame, but-"

I'm cut off by a loud scoff from Morgan. "Do you not know who I am?" I take a sip of my coffee. "Am I supposed to?" I laugh. He rolls his eyes. "I'm Morgan Wallen," he claims exasperatedly, holding his hands out by his side. I set the mug down, looking lamely at Michael. He leans back in his chair, watching the two of us intently. I look back to Morgan, whose arms are crossed in displeasure. "Okay, and I'm Juliette Copelan. It's nice to meet you, I guess?"

"I'm a very popular singer. I'm sure you've heard me on the radio," he says as if trying to prove something to me. "And I'm a very popular social media star. I'm sure you've seen some of my content." Morgan laughs and laughs hard. He throws his head back and grabs his stomach for dramatic effect. He stops abruptly and looks at me with a straight face. "So, you mean you don't have a job and just make videos all day?"

I open my mouth to retaliate when a knock at the door cuts me off. Morgan smiles tauntingly as walks past me and through another hallway. He comes back with Charles, whose hair is disheveled and who looks like he's wearing Nicole's pants rather than his own. I quirk an eyebrow at him, but he tiredly shakes his head.

I gulp down the rest of my coffee and wave goodbye to Michael. I look at Morgan once. We stare at each other for a second before Charles clears his throat. "Juls, if you're ready, can we go? I'm tired." I nod and turn towards the taller man next to me. "We can go."

Morgan follows us to the door, where he slams it the moment I step across the threshold. "Douche," I mummer as I climb into the passenger seat of Charles's sports car.