bad idea, right? olivia rodrigo ♥︎ ⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻ ⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●━━───── ⁰²'⁰⁸

"Mh," Avery can make out your soft, sleep-riddled grunts beside her, her own head near your chest and arm around your bare torso. She doesn't seem to realise what she's doing, or what she's done, for that matter, until she wakes up soon after. And she wakes up with a start.

This wasn't supposed to happen. The words repeat in her head over and over, as she slowly sits up, staring at your sleeping form beside her. She brings a tentative hand to your forehead, brushing your mussed up hair out of your closed eyes.

She knew you weren't her biggest fan, especially after she, an ordinary Connecticut teen, inherited your family's some 42.6 billion dollars after your grandfather's passing. You were the heir apparent, much more fit for the role than she could ever be.

How could this have happened? Her mind immediately ran to the extravagant gala that had happened the night before. Considering the faint headache she had, Avery guessed she had one too many drinks last night, and so did you.

And now, here she was, waking up in bed with one of the dangerous, magnetic grandchildren of Tobias that Alisa had warned her about. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity she reckoned anyone in the world would dream about.

Looking at you now— your hair tousled, shirtless, eyes closed with sleep, and lips parted— she could see why. Pushing that thought out of her head, she furrowed her brow, reaching for your bare shoulder.

"Hey," She whispered, though it sounded more urgent than gentle. When your eyes slowly fall open, she's acutely aware of how little she has on— a pair of lace underwear and a messily put on white dress shirt she guessed was yours. Her satin dress from the night before lay on the floor, beside the canopy bed you two were on.

She quickly pushes the silk blanket up to her waist, and lets out a breath. "Morning," she murmurs. "You have a headache, too?"