Hang over headache. The kind that felt like aggressive miners have taken residence in your head and though they found it empty, they are also determined not to leave empty-handed.

So they dug and drilled, hammered and pummeled unrelentingly. Iverson hated it, like 'move on folks, there's nothing here'. But no one said those miners were minders.

What he hated even more, was someone or something waking him up before he finds the grace to join the world. He was naturally not a violent person but a man can only take so much and enough was already going on in his head.

He groaned and shoved his head deeper into the unfamiliar fluffy pillow, but the insistent beeping won't go away. Where was it coming from? He didn't want to open his eyes, not like his eyelids were bulging anyways.

This was one of the reason he was happy to give up drinking. That few minutes of exhilaration just wasn't worth the pain in the morning after.

Blue drove him to this, that damn girl.

Was it poetic or pathetic that a girl was the major reason he quit drinking and another drove him back to it.

'Oh for God sake, someone shut off that beeping what ever it is' He groaned and curled in bed like a toddler. No one listened to his internal plead and he wasn't about to open he eyes.

He patted around on the bed for another pillow or anything to cover his ear. His first inner confusion came when his hand landed on something smooth.

He rubbed his hand on the surface without opening his eyes, this was unlike any other part of the bed. This was really smooth and, warm like the...skin on someone's back?

Iverson stilled his hand's roaming, trepidation began to replace his confusion... No, it couldn't have happened again. Slowly, with his breathe literally locked in his lungs, he squirted his eyes opened and instantly sprang out of bed like a bounced ball when his eyes found the naked body in bed with him.

'Valeria?'

He felt sick to his stomach, how could this have happened again? How much did he had to drink last night? How was he going to explain this?

He scurried backwards on his heels until his back hit a wall. The body stirred in bed.

Something wasn't right but he could hardly see through the haze in his eyes, the pounding in his head and the overwhelming nausea feeling in his gut.

"Turn it off."

The words came from the body in his bed...wait, that wasn't his bed? His bed spread was plain white when he last saw it, not that sick purple with the pink floral patterns?

He looked around, his eyes clearing up a little. The annoying beeping was coming from his laptop on a stood close to a dresser that wasn't his, he could tell that much from the abundant female accessories on it.

Where the hell was he? This wasn't his room! Not the one at Daniel's, not Blue's and the one at his father's house was twice this big. Did Valeria brought him to her room?

"Turn it off."

The voice repeated and Iverson's eyes snapped back to it, focusing on the bared back to realise it was much too thick to belong to Valeria. The person in bed lifted their head to look around when the beeping continued.

"Jesus, Biggie!" Iverson exclaimed in both relieve and shock as their eyes met.

"What? Turn off that stupid noise, I'm trying to sleep here." Biggie complained, nuzzling into his pillow and picking the one Iverson just abandoned to cover his ear.

But Iverson yanked it back and hit him on the back with it. "You scared the shit out me, I thought you were a woman!"

Rustling into a more comfortable position, Biggie said. "That's a fair comment. But in the future, I'd rather you fúck off and take that noise with you."

Iverson shook his head. "How did I end up in bed with a delinquent like you?" He mused as he walked over to his laptop, a Polaroid of smiling Claire got him looking around again. He was definitely in their room.

"Hey Biggie, where is Claire?"

"Yea, as if I'm going to let my woman anywhere near a drunken nymph like yourself." He mumbled sleepily.

"You and me, we didn't do anything right? You can tell me, I'll take responsibility if I stick it anywhere." Iverson joked and got Biggie to open his eyes for a nano second, sending him a death glare before flipping on his side to get comfortable again.

"I'm not a unicorn, I don't have unisex." He grumbled.

Iverson snickered, crankily taking a sit in an armchair with his laptop, he winced as if in pain when he opened it and his sister's face occupied the screen.

"Yay!" She exclaimed sarcastically, "It only took nine attempts."

"I know it's a hard concept for you but sometimes, someone might want to get back to you at their own time."

"You are hung over." She said. "Should you be getting drunk while you have a final exam going on?"

"What is it you want, Ivory?" He snapped.

She eyed him for a moment. "Are we still up for the shoot next week? I don't want to gather the crew for nothing."

Iverson shrugged. "I wouldn't know, we b.broke up." The words tasted like acid on his tongue but he could see how it lighten up the whole of his sister's face instantly.

"Good." She chimed happily, "You can do better to be honest."

Anger soared in him, doubling the pounding in his head. He contemplated just shutting the laptop in her face, it was much too early for this shít.

"What did she ever do to you?" He inquired, how can two of the most important women in his life just hate each other for no reason?

"All you've done is criticised and looked down on her without even knowing her. Does it matter that she means something to me, Ivory?"

She made an attempt to answer but he beat her to it. "You know what, it doesn't matter anymore. She broke up with me and I'm glad my misery somehow brought you joy."

"It's not like that." Ivory said, looking just a tad bit remorseful. "I just..."

"It doesn't matter Ivory. Would that be all?"

"No, there's something else I need to tell you. Listen, I have an idea..."

"No." Iverson interrupted, already shaking his head. Her ideas were often bother line ludicrous, so he was just going to preemptively say no.

"Listen to me first." She whined and he kept shaking his head. "I just want you to make one demo, I'll show it to..."

"A demo!" Iverson laughed scratchily. "A demo," he repeated. "Have you totally lost it?"

"I'm trying to kill two birds with one stone." She continued, ignoring his remark. "I have a guy I want to help, he's an amazing song writer and all he needs is an artist to..."

"I'm not moving to LA, I've told you this befo..."

"He's in the UK," she hurriedly said. "And he'll personally locate you, you don't have to do anything than hit the studio with him at your own time. I swear, I'm just going to show the demo to two people and if they have the slightly doubt that you have what it takes, I promise to never bother you with it again."

"And if they say I have what it takes?" He asked coolly.

"Do you think you have what it takes?" She retorted with challenging glint in her eyes.

He clenched his teeth, he wasn't playing that game. "What's your point, Ivory."

"My point is, you have this incredible talent and you're wasting it away because one clueless man instilled self doubt in you and..."

"That clueless man was my father!" Iverson shouted furiously. "My..." He trailed off when he caught Biggie scrambling out of bed, parking the pillows and cover with him.

He stood at the foot of the bed with the beddings clutched to his bare chest and narrowed his eyes at Iverson in obvious anger for disrupting his sleep.

"Watch your back, you lousy shíthead. You've crossed a line." Biggie sneered before stomping out of the room to probably go sleep somewhere quiet. Or maybe that was just his way of giving him and his sister some privacy.

Iverson sighed and turned back to his sister. "You wouldn't know what it was like to have the person you idolise constantly telling you what a mistake you were, for wanting the things you want and loving the things you love. You wouldn't know Ivory."

After all, the man all but deliver her to the front door of Hollywood himself. He believed in her, encouraged her and supported her. Iverson didn't have that luxury.

Ivory's shoulders dropped the slightest as she too let out a breath. A moment of silence passed and they just stared at each other, she looked pained and he could tell it was sincere.

"He is dead, Iverson." She said almost pleadingly.

"Yeah well, so are my dreams." Was his reply.

Three days later***

That frustrating feeling you get, when your bra is off, your hair is down, the lights are off, the curtains are drawn. You lay comfortably in bed with the blanket tucked to your chin but you just...stare into the darkness, counting sheep.

Yes, that one. Bella was very familiar with it and it seriously sucks.

She'd like to say, she hasn't lost a wink of sleep since Iverson left, that she'd gone through her boring days casually as always, she could lie to anyone but not herself.

It bothered her that despite how tired she always returned home after working her butts off at the gym, getting in shape for the shoot, sleep still eluded her.

She'd often walk through the door like a zombie, physically drained and emotionally exhausted, ready to collapse but the stupid sleep avoided her more than Daniel.

She won't say she missed Iverson, not after he'd made a fool of her the second time. Well admittedly, she made a fool of herself by losing sight of what happened in the past. Somehow, she foolishly convinced herself that it was different this time.

He and Derrick must have had a good laugh at her expense, while she thought she was using one to make the other jealous without knowing they were in it together and the joke was on her.

Gah, they can both burn in hell for all she cared.

She was still as mad as day one. Maybe not quite, she'd been forced to admit that she missed him in her bed, she missed his warmth and his strong arms around her as she slept. She missed the sense of safety he gave her, she missed his kisses, his touches, the look in his eyes when he saw her in the morning. What an actor he was, he could make a girl feel like the only one in the world.

Most importantly, she missed her sleep. The first few days had been tolerable, she had slept on his side of the bed, buried her nose in his pillow and arranged hers behind her. She'd slept pretending the pillow behind her was him but gradually, his scent faded away from the sheet and so did her sleep.

Tomorrow was the clothes fitting for the shoot and judging by her current situation she would be spotting two large bags of chips under her eyes that successfully covering them with makeup will be nothing short of a miracle.

Nerves fluttered in her stomach every time she thought about it and it was all she did, thinking about it. Martha, the lady from Marie Ivy's store that had been chaperoning her because she refused to deal directly with Iverson had told her she'd sleep like a baby after all the waxing, picking and scraping she went through at their spa earlier today. Martha didn't know shít.

And if Iverson cared, shouldn't he have at the very least send her an encouraging message? He knew she had never done this before, he knew all her insecurities. Yet she hadn't heard a single word from him since the last time they spoke on phone and she had relieved him of the chore it must have been pretending he gave a damn about her.

Bella threw her blanket back and stepped out of bed as an idea occurred to her.

He was so concerned about her virtue, she wondered now if being her first was the only reason he stuck with her. Would he have left her for Derrick also to pick his piece? At least he had a conscience.

She tiptoed her way towards his and Daniel room, being really quiet even though she knew she was alone in the house. Daniel has it appeared, would rather gouged his own eyes out than be anywhere around her. She'd called, left voicemail and messages and he had replied to none.

She opened their door with a tiny creak and sneaked in, no one was there but what she was about to do must never be brought to light.

The room was dark but their curtain was left opened and the light from outside bathed it in soft yellow glow, enough for her not to walk into walls. She gently made her way past Daniel's bed where there was heap of clothes to Iverson's.

Gargantuan butterflies errupted in her stomach as memories of what they did last on that bed flooded through her mind eyes. The now waxed clean spot between her legs clenched around the memory and in fake anticipation.

She refused to on the light and ruined the illusion she had of him in the bed, watching her approach with that smothering heat in his eyes, his hands behind his head, his rip chest available for her hands exploration, the anxious licking of his lip and oh, the magic wand between his legs, standing erect with a promise of pleasure and sin.

It seemed he changed the sheet and laid the bed before he left but that didn't dampen her mood. She was getting wet fast. No, she was already soaking, the juice pooling between her legs was surplus.

What had he done to her? She wanted him with almost the same intensity with which he disgusted her.

His essence was strong in this room and it had a tremendous effect on her. She never knew she could be this...this, wanton.

Her hormones were hyperactive as she picked up his pillow, the instant warmth that came with his scent filling her nose, cocooning her and giving every sensitive part of her a heart of it own was almost her undoing.

She buried her nose in the pillow and inhaled deeply, greedily keeping his scent in her for a moment before letting go with a loud satisfying moan. She went to do it again but flinched as bright lights suddenly flooded the room.

"May I ask what on God's green earth you are doing?"

Bella fought her momentary blindness and divine mortification to see Daniel, the guy she hadn't seen in six days, standing there in the middle of the room, with nothing on but his boxer and glaring at her like she had totally gone berserk.

She wanted to die. Someone please kill her now!