Chapter 4 Chapter Four

Michelle's POV

Opening my eyes to light streaming into the room, I winced. It was so bright out, I wondered what time it was.

I yawned as I stretched and got off the bed, almost immediately a migraine slammed into me like a ton of bricks had been hurled at my head.

As I headed to the door I passed a mirror. I was wearing a plain black hoodie. The hoodie smelled like detergent, something woodsy... and cigarettes. Definitely not mine.

Still dazed and a bit out of it, I padded out of the room and headed downstairs to grab some cereal and a glass of water.

It wasn't until I reached the bottom step and looked up that I froze.

Eight shirtless guys were scattered around the living room. One was eating cereal. Another was doing push-ups. A few were in a heated conversation and paused as they saw me.

I blinked once then twice.

I waited a beat, then called out, "Aunt Mel?"

"I knew she was free-spirited and all that kumbaya rubbish," I muttered aloud, "but hiring a bunch of strippers for my birthday? That's a bit much for a seventeen-year-old." I paused. "But hey, I'm not complaining."

"Aunt Mel you really have to stop watching my sweet sixteen." I yelled out.

One of the guys burst out laughing. On the kitchen island I spotted Mystery Guy from last night, facepalming as his friends snickered around him and beside him was.... Rockie.

The colour from my face drained as memories from last night flooded my brain. I staggered a bit, holding the rail for support.

"Shut up already," Rockie muttered.

Another guy stood to the side as he filmed with his phone, grinning. "Yo, this is gold. Keep going, birthday girl."

I blinked again, finally processing what was going on.

Wait.

I looked down at myself.

I was wearing just a hoodie. Just a hoodie in a house full of guys I didn't know.

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God," I muttered.

I felt someone grab my arm, and I instinctively yanked it back. I looked up.

At some point in my panic, Mystery Guy had crossed the space between us. I scowled at him.

"Of course," I shouted. "Everyone wants to fuck the seventeen-year-old!"

He stared at me, confused, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Really? Isn't that a line from a movie?" Rockie asked looking up from his cereal bowl. "And wasn't she like fifteen?"

"Get away from me," I snapped, backing away.

"Look, you had a lot to drink. Just calm down and eat, or your hangover's going to get worse," mystery guy said, stepping closer, looking genuinely concerned.

"Oh sure," I said with a scoff. "Because breakfast is totally going to fix the fact that I woke up in a frat house like some horror movie extra."

I suddenly remembered Rockie's warning from last night. My eyes narrowed as I pointed at him.

"Did he put you up to this?" I asked mystery guy.

When he didn't answer, I turned to Rockie who looked at me with a bored expression.

"Woww you really went low, let me guess you paid off the bikers too?"

"Either you sit down and eat or leave." Rockie rolled his eyes and continued eating.

I narrowed my eyes. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

I started throwing things at them.

First a pillow. Then a shoe. Then whatever I could reach.

They all scrambled, shouting and ducking.

"Michelle, chill! Just calm down!"

"Oh yeah, this is totally normal! A girl wakes up in a house full of shirtless guys, half-naked, and you expect her to chill?"

"Were all your conquests chill, huh, Mystery Guy?" I yelled, chucking a vase at his head. He ducked, and it smashed behind him.

They all looked at each other like I was the one who was batshit crazy.

"Calm down, okay? Let's just talk," one of his frat buddies said.

I chucked a remote at him.

"Look, the neighbors are gonna complain about the noise. Alfie, get her to calm down or we'll have to use force," said the one hiding behind the cushions.

Alfie. That was Mystery Guy's name?

"Michelle, please just calm down," Alfie said, trying to approach me again.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"How do you know my name?" I asked, holding up a cooking spoon like it was a sword.

"I—I—" he stuttered, trying to form a coherent sentence.

"Spit it out."

"You talk in your sleep."

I talk in my what?

Damn Rockie and that bottle of vodka.

I chucked the spoon in his direction. He ducked, but it hit one of the others.

"That's it. Get her!" Rockie yelled.

They chased me around the living room, trying to grab me before I broke something or someone. Honestly, I'd prefer the latter.

When they finally caught me, I was still thrashing around in Alfie's arms. I kicked one of them in the face, and that's when they decided to tie my wrists with a hoodie drawstring.

"Let me go! This is illegal!" I shouted.

"Says the one attacking people with a lamp!" one of them yelled.

"I panicked, okay!" I snapped. "Just let me go, I'm calm now."

"You don't say." Rockie said as he rolled his eyes for the hundredth time.

I narrowed my eyes. "You guys are so kinky."

"We're not—oh my God," one groaned as they all face palmed.

We were still mid-argument when a knock came from the door.

"Police! Open up!"

I looked at them. They looked at me.

Knock knock knock.

"We've received multiple noise complaints. If you don't open this door, we will force entry."

I smiled wider.

"Perfect."