It Only Takes One Night.

Waking up with a hangover was nothing new for me. When you toured 300 days a year with your best friends/band mates, whose poison of choice tended to be Jack Daniels, whiskey, and tequila, you quickly learned to deal with a hangover.

But this morning I felt worse than usual. It wasn't just the pounding in my head, my stomach was rolling too and I just wanted to go back to sleep. I hadn't even opened my eyes yet but I knew that the light in whatever room I was in wasn't going to make me feel any better. Groaning, I rolled over and cracked an eye open.

The glowing numbers on the bedside clock taunted me. 7am. I flung a tattooed arm over my face and yelled at the clock - silently, of course. Real yelling would be a bitch right now.

Wait ... since when did I have a bedside clock?

I cracked my eyes open again and took in more of the room, wincing with pain as I did so. Nope, definitely not my room. Not unless Jaxin and his wife had decided that painting it purple while I was gone would be funny.

That meant that I'd gone home with someone last night. More unusual, but not unheard of. I didn't really sleep around much compared to a lot of guys in my position, but everyone had needs once in a while and there were some girls that I just couldn't say no to. I rolled over, studying the sleeping form beside me. I didn't remember her name, which was fitting considering I barely remembered my own right now.

I couldn't see much of the girl, just a long leg snaking out from the sheet, and pale skin. I sighed and got up slowly. Whoever she was, I'd leave her a note with my number, just in case. I doubted she'd text me - they didn't, usually. I wasn't sure if it was because they were usually just looking for a one night stand or if it was because they were ashamed and assumed that they were only a one night stand to me.

I wouldn't lie, most of them had been just that. But there'd been a few that I'd have liked to get to know. But it was hard to get to know someone when you lived on the road, in different countries, the majority of the year. When I was home, I helped Jaxin with the shop, had band rehearsal, or time in the studio.

Not to mention I wasn't easy to get to know.

I sighed, giving in and feeling sorry for myself. Hangovers always made me super emotional and ready to question it all, which annoyed me to no end. I sat on the side of the bed, my head in my hands, trying to convince myself that I was feeling good enough to get dressed and head home.

My phone buzzed. It was Jaime.

TONY! Vic called last minute band practice in a few hours. Please come? Providing you're alive. We didn't hear from you last night.

I groaned. Band practice was the last thing that I needed right now. But we'd taken two months off touring to record and write and practice our hearts out, and I couldn't skip out. It wasn't my friends faults that I'd decided to go on a bender last night. That was my fault.

And Stephanie's.

I sighed again, getting to my feet. Fuck, Stephanie. Not literally. Been there, done that. Could have done that again last night, but I hadn't. I had my limits, and that didn't allow me to sleep with women who were engaged. I didn't even know why I'd agreed to meet her last night - most likely because I hadn't had any plans, and it made me feel a bit better to know that she hadn't had any, either. Last resorts, last minute replacements, casual sex - that about summed up things with Stephanie over the last year.

We hadn't always been like that. No, we'd been great once. The dream couple. But something had changed along the lines - Stephanie had wanted what I just wasn't ready to give her. So we'd gone our separate ways. She'd moved back to her home town, a small town just outside of San Diego, and I'd kept touring. But every once in a while, we'd end up in the same place at the same time and the physical attraction would surface again. We'd always been great in bed, there was no denying that. But emotionally, things hadn't clicked. We'd pretended they had. Pretending was easy when you only saw someone every few months for a few days.

Last night, though, she'd called me, asked me to meet her. Said her girlfriends had ditched her and she was feeling a bit low. So I went. And that's when she told me she was getting married. She even went as far to invite me to the wedding before trying to lure me into one last time. "For old times sake," she'd said. I'd declined, gone to the nearest bar, gotten drunk, and ended up here.

Wherever here was.

I heard shifting from the bed and look over, noticing that the sleeping girl had turned and I could now see her face. I walked closer, my hungover eyes not functioning properly. When I finally focused in on the face, though, I wished that it was just a product of my hungover imagination.

I barely made it to the bathroom, closing the door, before the entire contents of my stomach came rushing up. When I finally stopped shaking and felt reasonably sure I wouldn't puke again, I stared at myself in the mirror.

FUCK.

I tiptoed into the room, slipping into my clothes and grabbing my phone and shoes. I made sure that the door made no noise as I first slipped out of the room, then out of the apartment, and finally out of the building.

I didn't notice that my signature necklace, a tiny gold chain with a gold turtle with emerald eyes, had stayed on the nightstand beside the betraying alarm clock.

I didn't have far to walk to find my car - it was parked at the bar down the street. I slipped into the driver's seat, laying my head on the steering wheel. I was so fucked.

I, Tony Perry, had just had a drunken one night stand with no other than Kailee Preciado, the little sister of my band mate and best friend, Jaime Preciado.

He was going to kill me.