Marked by the Heir Alpha

I almost freaked out after realizing the whiteboard ceiling with a mini chandelier wasn't there anymore. Instead, I was staring right back at the ceiling of my room with nothing but a bulb atop. 

In haste, I was off the bed, looking around in an apprehensive state. At the same time, I was trying to figure out what in the world was going on because it was clear to me that something was not right. 

I shouldn't be in my room. If my foggy memory serves me right, I should be somewhere else. Somewhere totally different from here. 

I look down at the clothes I have on and it wasn't the usual different collection of PJs that I would normally wear before going to bed. Seeing myself in a tiny strapped top and jean pants added more to my stressed mind. 

If I was in such clothes, then I definitely shouldn't be in my room. But I just can't seem to place my hands on how I got back here in the first place. 

My eyes finally land on something that would not appropriately be found in here — A pink sticky note lying on my bedside cabinet with bold letters written on it. 

I was nervous but I eventually reach out for it, picking it up with precise wariness. And while still filled with hesitation did I proceed to read what was on the note: 

‘SORRY ABOUT LAST NIGHT’ 

Reading the note made me even more confused than waking up in my room. For example, how did it even get into my room? But at least it was proof that I was not making it all up about something not being right. 

I had to take my time to relax before I get tensive from the situation I just found myself in. It would take me a while but I would figure it all out sooner or later. 

Carefully I sit back down, my thoughts flowing in the direction of what could have led to my confused state. And as I did, it led me to the events of last night which came back in a flash. At least not all of it. 

So, what did I do again last night? I went alone to a club, got wasted — but not really wasted though, hit it off with a stranger, booked a hotel, and slept with him — Or did I? Even more so, how the hell am I back in my apartment? No, how did the note even end up in my room? Did I bring a stranger in here without realizing it? 

Clearly, it was hours into the morning which means my roommate would be awake to explain what was going on to me. 

With the note in my hand and still in the clothes that I wore from last night, I scramble out of the room to head to the small living room that serves the both of us. 

On getting there, I find out that the whole place was a mess. It was littered with pieces of clothing here and there. She must be working on her new collection. It would have been better if she did that in her room. 

I try not to let the messy state of the parlor get through to me as I sight my roommate seated on the floor while being immersed in her work. She probably hasn't figured out that I'm here already as her eyes linger about through the glasses she has on. 

So to get her attention, I call her most unnaturally: "Lauryn!" 

Her reaction to me yelling her name was uncalled for but she did almost make a fool of herself by acting hysterical. Perhaps her mind was consumed by the work she was doing. 

As she tries to comport herself, she looks in my direction. She has a glare mounted on it which did nothing to faze me. "Oh my goodness, Rozeta! Why would you yell my name like that?" was her question to me. 

"Because I need a freaking explanation!" I tell her, my temper rising a bit. 

She adjusts her glasses and says, "To what?" 

"To all of this," I say. "But you can start by telling me how I'm back home when I remember being in a..." I trail off after realizing that I was about to go into details about what I did last night.

No, I trailed off because I suddenly recall the face of the stranger from last night. A bit stoic but most certainly a turn on. His lingering gaze on me as he pushed me down the bed was the last straw of my imagination before a cough from Lauryn's direction ended my daydream.

Looking at her, I see a confused look on her face so I switch what I wanted to say to her, "Scratch that. How did I get home last night?"

"Is that the reason you chose to disturb my peace this morning when you know I'll be busy?" 

I think through what she said, realizing I might be in the wrong. Still, I wasn't going to give her the justification. "It's worth it," is my counterclaim. 

For a long time, she says nothing while I stare at her like she was a movie that I was seeing for the first time. From the look on her face, I could tell she was having none of my drama this morning. 

Finally, she says, "You should be apologizing, you know," 

I sigh. I couldn't continue acting this way. Made it seem like I have gone crazy. 

"I know," I state, walking over to where she is seated, "And I'm sorry," I apologize, sitting on the sofa beside her, "It's just that I'm so confused. I don't remember coming home last night," 

"You're suffering from a hangover then," 

"I'm not, I promise. I don't even have a headache," 

"Wait until it kicks in," she pauses. "And just so you know, you came home yourself," 

I lean forward, my brows raised. "I did?" 

"Yeah," she pulls on the seam of one of the few pieces of clothing she has on her lap, "I found you seated by the doorway outside. You were muttering incoherent words to yourself and I knew already that you were wasted," 

It was not adding up. She claimed that I was outside the apartment alone... Then what about the note in my hand? How did it get to me? It's not like I wrote it myself. 

I try to recall anything pertaining to that but there just doesn't seem to be a click in any way. And I don't want to make it seems suspicious as well by asking her about the stranger I was sure I hooked up with last night. 

I decide to cut through corners. "You mean I wasn't with anyone, right?" 

"Were you supposed to be with anyone?" came her response. 

"Not at all," I let out a dry laugh, shifting my gaze away from her. Almost to myself, I say, "But I didn't have too much to drink. At least I remember vividly that I went to a..." 

"Went to a what?" she looks up from the clothing on her lap, curiosity written on her face. 

I think I need to find a way to control the words coming out of my mouth. I might end up giving away everything that I remember about last night. 

"Nevermind," 

"You're acting suspicious, Rozeta. Is there something you're not telling me because what's this about last night?" 

I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I was sure I had a one-night stand. And worse of all I do not remember anything about it. She would be so mad when she hears. 

"I think it's the hangover," I have to say, blaming it on what's not. I was obviously not feeling anything that had to do with me being on a substantial amount of liquor from last night. 

"It had better be," she looks back at her clothing collection, trying to get back into it. But it doesn't stop her from saying, "Remember I told you not to get wasted before you went out last night but you didn't listen. Now look where it landed you," 

I said nothing in response to that because my head was somewhere else. I cast a glance at the note in my hand, curious to know where it came from. 

Was it from the stranger? Even more so, why did he have to write me one? 

The strangest thing now is that finding it in my cabinet means he must have been inside my room. But Lauryn said I came back alone which means it wasn't the stranger who put it there. It can't be me either. Lauryn hasn't said anything about it which means it isn't her too. 

"You have a hickey on your neck," 

Those words from Lauryn were enough to get me out of my thoughts as I look at her with my brows raised. 

"A what?" I ask, a bit unsure of what I heard. 

"A hickey? You know, like a love bite," 

"I know what a hickey is. Where is it?" 

She points to my right side and I quickly put my hand there to feel around it. And just like she said, I felt like my neck was swollen or something. 

"Are you going to tell me how that got on your neck?" 

I ignore her and stand up to rush back to my room. My hand was still feeling around the supposed love bite on my neck and it was the same when I eventually find myself standing in front of a mirror. 

Slowly I take my hand off the spot to examine the affected spot. Asides from it being all red like a tomato, it looked really swollen. More like I bumped my neck into something. 

The closer I look at the spot, the more I realize it was worse than a bite mark...