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sᴛʀɪɴɢs ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄʜᴇᴅ

Race groaned as he rolled in bed, blindly reaching for the phone that was suddenly too loud. Closing his eyes when he realized the room was also too bright. Fuck. He had a hell of a hangover, didn't he?

The phone thankfully stopped ringing before he could find it, which was perfectly fine. Silence. Heavenly silence.

Last night came rushing in, his friend had suggested a nightclub, telling him he needed to unwind, not work so many hours. And well, she was right that sage girl. Race was too young to spend so many hours in the office trying to make the transition as smooth as possible.

So unwind he did, drink, and dance, and laugh and forget he was nothing but a 19 years old having a good time with friends, planning trips and adventures to come before they got too drunk to even think straight.

A small smile spread on his face, right as his phone started screaming somewhere in the room. Shit. He got up out of sheer will, fishing his phone from the pocket of his discarded ripped black jeans and frowned at the name displayed on the screen, the name that matched the voice screaming in a punk rock song that was more rock than punk.

"Riot, it's too fucking early." He greeted his friend with a groan after accepting the call. A chuckle, fucker.
"Someone was out until late, huh?" That was the problem of partying in a nightclub owned by the Devil, he didn't miss a thing.
"Your point, Ree?"
"Karolina, Vault, you're coming."
Race tried to roll his eyes, but his head hurt so he settled for a groan, "fine, text me the details."
"Already done," his phone chimed with a new notification, the bastard was serious, "another thing Zane, get your gear ready, you've got an audition."

Riot hung up, leaving a hungover Race staring at his phone in disbelief. An audition? What the— It didn't matter, whatever Riot had lined up for him, Race was 100% in.