𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The bright sun shined through the window wall, welcoming you to the beautiful morning. But it wasn’t so beautiful. Your head pounded from the hang over and your body ached from the ball.

That’s the last thing you remember. The ball. Dressed in an elegant dress your mom bought for you since all your dresses were outdated due to your lack of care for the societal standards set for the Archibald name.

Normally you don’t drink like that but last night was an acception. Carter Baizen was the acception. He was your date. Hand picked by Anne Archibald herself.

“I grew up with Carters parents, and you with Carter. He’s a close family friend.” Anne said as she fixed a few strands of your hair, trying to justify making you go to the ball with the devil incarnate.

“Most girls would be thrilled to be on Carters arm.” She again tried to justify her cruel decision.

True. Most girls would. But not me. Because I know him. In elementary school— he in middle school— pretended to like me and kissed me. Him being my brothers hot older friend that I secretly wrote about in my diary, you could say i was overjoyed. Just for everyone in his grade to come out from hiding spots close by and start laughing at me. In middle school— he in high school— told my first boyfriend that I never grew out of wetting the bed. He broke up with me later that week. In high school— he graduated a few years ago— got my first ever serious boyfriend drunk and gaslit him into cheating on me. After that, i fully separated myself from Carter.

The memories of the ball flooded your throbbing head, making it hurt even more. You groaned softly, squinting your eyes shut tighter to shield yourself from the relentless morning sunshine. With a small stretch, you roll over, just to be met with a warm chest and a nice scent of rum and vanilla. You almost relaxed into him, the feeling of your naked body wrapped in the luscious silk sheets felt like heaven for your current hungover state. Until you heard that voice. That agonizing voice you know too well, and hearing the smirk on his lips with it.

“Goodmorning to you too, Archibald.”