(DISCONTINUED)

● 0.2 :: Wet Wipes ●

Dedicated to @_stepphanie for voting!

[[OMG BE THANKFUL I WROTE THIS IN MY PHONE AGES AGO AND I TRIED TO DEDICATE TO YOUR OLD USERNAME AND IT DIDN'T WORK SO I SCROLLED THROUGH ALL OF MY NOTIFICATIONS BUT IT WAS SO LONG AGO SO I GOOGLED _ghettonouis AND I FOUND YOU YOU'RE WELCOME]]

[[LUV U XOX]]

*

"Wake up, girl!"

I slowly blink my eyes open, rubbing them to clear them of sleep.

And immediately come face to face with a... well, face.

"Shìt!" I yell, automatically sitting up and sending my head straight into the person's nose. I blink a few times, squinting at the personal space invader who's currently letting out a string of curses. "Frida?"

Frida leans back away from me, throwing one hand in the air with a huff before she promptly puts it on her hip, still rubbing her nose. "Who else, bìtch?"

I hoist my legs over the edge of my bed, sitting up. How long was I asleep for?

"What time is it?" I croak.

Frida rolls her eyes and pulls her fingers away from her nose, inspecting them for blood. "You almost broke my nose and that's all you have to say?" She demands.

"Maybe you shouldn't have been all up in my face then!" I point out. "So what time is it?"

Frida sighs and drops the issue, opting to change the subject. "Time to stop being a lazy ass hò and put some clothes on, because we're going out," she announces, pulling me onto my feet.

I don't even flinch. Frida has pretty much always been sassy, but she'd taken it to a whole new level when she learned some swear words at the age of 9. "Out?"

"Out." She repeats. "Get dressed, okay?"

"What time is it?" I repeat for the third time, crossing my arms over my chest.

Frida rolls her eyes, produces her phone from her bra, and clicks the screen on. "Eight thirty. Happy now?"

"I've been asleep for seven hours?!" I almost scream. "That's the whole damn day!"

Frida simply rolls her eyes again, shoving me towards my wardrobe. "Yada yada yada. Now hurry up, girl! The night is still young!" She then goes back to tapping away on her phone, which was what she was doing in the short time that I was freaking about my power-nap. "Make sure you dress cute," she orders, "Or I'm going to have to cut a bìtch." She snaps her eyes away from her screen, pointing menacingly at me. "FYI, that bìtch is you."

"Really? I had no idea," I sarcastically drawl, pulling my skinny jeans back onto my legs and reaching for my jumper.

"You're wearing jeans?"

"Yes, I'm wearing jeans, why d—" It's then that I notice Frida's outfit for the first time since I woke up: a skin-tight, strapless yellow dress that hugs her curves and goes down to midthigh, the colour contrasting nicely with her dark skin. She's even done her weave up nicely, a fancy topknot that I know not only took ages, but probably came from either YouTube or Instagram. "Oh no."

She grins wickedly, stalking towards me like some sort of predator. "Oh yes!"

I slowly back away, matching her every step. "No no no no..."

"You promised, you back-stabbing bìtch!" She crosses her arms over her voluminous chest, stomping her foot like a petulant child. "You said you'd come to three parties with me this year — and every year for as long as we're here, actually," she reminds me.