eight | stumbling home (again)

(@aliannagreer via snapchat stories!)

ALIANNA WAS OVER THE MOON WHEN JORDAN TOLD HER HE WAS PLAYING AN AFTERNOON GAME IN THE GOLD COAST THAT SATURDAY. It meant she was safe to go to the clubs without having to worry about seeing him. They'd decided that for such a new relationship, it made sense that the girlfriend only went to home games. So, she was off the hook for the weekend and she was going to make the most of it.

Silvia, Mira and a few of their other influencer friends were gathered around the pool in Alianna's building. Tiny skirts and shirts smaller than handkerchiefs galore. Ali's face hurt from all the photos she'd smiled for.

When 11pm rolled around, everyone started booking their Ubers and downing their last drinks. Ali and her two best friends were the last to leave. It being her apartment complex and all—it'd end horribly if she left a bunch of people unsupervised.

Once in the Uber, the trio were screaming the lyrics to an Ed Sheeran. Silvi, an avid Ed Sheeran hater was probably singing the loudest out of the group. Which meant it was only fitting she was filmed and posted on Ali's story.

On a good day, Ali's eyesight was shocking but when she was drunk? It was a miracle she could see her phone. A message from Jordan appeared on her screen but she couldn't (and also didn't care) to read it. Besides, the Uber had pulled up outside Prohibition by that point.

Having one million subscribers really had its perks—Ali would've come to the clubs regardless but getting paid to go to them? Now, that was the dream. She smiled apologetically at the people in the line as she walked right up to the security guard, Silvia and Mira in tow, and handed him her ID. He nodded at the three of them before allowing them to pass him. They passed a worker who gave them the big, bold P stamp and made their way towards the blaring music and flashing lights.

"I'm getting us shots!" Mira declared as her friends sat in a VIP booth. Before her friends could even accept the offer, she'd disappeared towards the bar.

The two girls shared a laugh as they watched their friend try to flirt with the bartender. He gave her a look that said 'please just order, I do not get paid enough for this.'

Once the trio had downed the shots (and three more bought by Silvia), they not-so-graciously made their way over to the dance floor. They were all having the times of their lives jumping around to the music. Moments like these are what made every day in between worth it.

It didn't take long for Mira to start violently making out with a tall blonde man. Apparently (Ali would found out in the morning) he was a Swedish exchange student. Silvia and Ali looked at each other and at their friend before bursting out laughing.

"I don't know how she finds them so fast," Silvia remarked over the music.

In saying that, it wasn't much longer until Silvia was also in the same position as Mira—except her guy was not a tall Swedish man. He was a short, Indian man. Ali tried to seperate the pair but Silvia wasn't having any of it. "Oh, Ali, he's so hot. . . go away," she pleaded as he lead her to a booth. Her friend, as gorgeous as she was, had a chronic addiction to men way below her league.

After asking her friend if she was sure three more times, she finally let her go. She made sure to keep the pair in her line of vision as she continued swaying to the music. She tried to appear cool and approachable.

There were hands on her waist before he actually spoke to her. "Buy you a drink?" Came a deep voice in her ear. Ali turned to face the man—the best description she can remember is he looked like a stereotypical tradie.

Smiling at him, she nodded and grabbed onto his hand. They headed toward the bar and he rubbed the small of her back as the bartender poured her Vodka Raspberry. Tapping his card, he slid the drink towards her. She finished in one big slurp of her straw. His rough hands brushed some hair out of her face and she giggled at the sensation.

"What're you doing later?" He mumbled in her ear. She could feel his hot breath fan across her skin.

She played with his fingertips and shrugged. "Undecided."

"Me," came a voice that Ali was too familiar with. "She's doing me later."

Ali suddenly felt like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. She was thankful that she was wearing full coverage makeup because she didn't want to know how red her face must've turned underneath. "Jordan—? What're you doing here?" She spluttered, not yet moving away from the man at the bar. If anything, she felt his grip tighten around her waist.

"I texted you," he responded, as if that was supposed to explain everything.

"You're supposed to be in Surfers," she slurred, poking where his not fully done up shirt exposed his chest. He had a white 3/4 sleeves button up—it's like he knew what to wear to drive her crazy (not that she'd ever let him now that).

"I texted you," he repeated, reaching out, taking the empty glass from her hand and setting it on the bar. He looked up at the other bloke and said, "I've got her from here, mate."

"Fuck off, you do," he snarled, pulling Ali closer into him. She could feel his belt buckle digging into her back and she winced.

"I know him!" Ali shouted, though still not making an effort to move towards Jordan.

He glared at the random bloke. "She's clearly gone, mate. You weren't getting any tonight anyways," Jordan yelled, starting to get a bit agitated. "Let me take her home."

The tradie snorted. "Mate, it's not up to you if I'm getting any tonight or not." He shook Ali and looked down at her, "we're gonna go back to mine now, aren't we?"

Ali's vision was blurring even more; she could now see three Jordan's. The blonde couldn't decide if that was a nightmare or a wet dream.

"She's barely got her eyes open, cunt," Jordan growled, taking a step towards them and looking down at the guy.

"What're you gonna do, huh?" He taunted, glaring up at the Māori athlete.

Before Jordan could react, a security guard had made his way over. "Do we have a problem here, fellas?" The big bald man asked sternly, eyeing them both suspiciously. His eyes landed on Ali, who'd completely shut her eyes at this point and was being entirely supported by the tradie. "Has she taken anything?" He asked, sounding like a concerned father.

"Not that I'm aware of," Jordan replied, watching in glee as the colour drained from old-mates face.

The security guard pried Ali off the man and helped her to a nearby booth. "Are you her boyfriend?" He asked Jordan. The tradie had scurried off the moment their backs were turned.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation.

"We're gonna get her some water and then she's going to have to leave the premises," said the security guard. "I strongly advise taking her home."

💌

(@jordanriki via snapchat stories!)

THE FIRST THING ALI REALISED WHEN SHE WOKE UP IS THAT INSTEAD OF CUDDLING HER CAT, SHE WAS CLINGING TO A 2LTR BOTTLE OF WATER. Second thing she noticed is that she was not wearing her clothes—not even her underwear. Third thing? She knew this room and you can best believe it wasn't hers.

"You've got to be joking," she groaned, jolting up right and looking around. She saw her clothes in a neat pile on his desk.

Then she looked beside herself and was floored to see no one. This had her frowning in the utmost confusion. After taking a swig of her water, she rolled out of the bed and ventured into the living room.

Immediately she saw him. Covered by just a white sheet, he was still fast asleep on the couch. The fan above was spinning at rapid speed. As she got closer, she noticed his mouth was open.

Standing in front of the couch, she did the only appropriate thing and ripped the sheet off him in one swift swoop. Her eyes widened as she saw he was only wearing a bear of tight and very white (or maybe that was because he was so tan) Calvin Klein briefs.

At the same time, his eyes flew open and he glared at her. "What'd you do that for?" He grumbled, voice deeper than she'd ever heard it.

"Why am I here?" She questioned, tossing the sheet on the floor beside her.

Jordan sat up slowly. "You look good in my clothes," he stated, not answering his question.

Ali looked down at her body and frowned. She was wearing a Broncos training jersey and a pair of matching shorts. Did he own anything besides his team merch? After a few seconds, realisation dawned on her and she looked up at him in horror. "Oh, god— did we. . . ?"

"No." He said sharply. "We didn't. You decided to strip down naked when I put you to bed," he explained, rubbing his eyes. "Figured waking up naked in someone else's bed would be a bit alarming so I shoved whatever I could find on you before you passed out."

"Did you sleep out here?" She asked, her face softening.

"I didn't think you'd be comfortable with me in there," he shrugged, standing up and walking past her towards the fridge.

Ali stayed where she was. "But it's your apartment?"

"I know."

💌

☀️ KK SPEAKS!
repeat after me: unconscious people do not want tea!!!!

lowkey based off true events (first year uni clubbing era was something else 😃😃)