Sugar • Hiram Lodge

365 DNI

You got a fetish for my love.

I push you out and you come right back.

Don't see a point in blaming you.

If I were you, I'd do me too.

Some of you can't see red flags and it shows.

   Mira knew something was seriously wrong the moment she woke up. She could feel it in her gut... literally. As it turns out, her period had decided to make its monthly appearance at the worst place imaginable - a guy's home where no tampons were present. This was great. Despite wanting to have a chill morning, she decided it would be best to just head home so that she could deal with the bloodbath that was her uterus on her own. 

   Whether it was the fact that her uterus was sticking out of her stomach about 5 inches or just the sheer desire of wanting something comfortable to wear, she decided she wanted a pair of his sweats and maybe an oversized shirt rather than her matching set. So, walking into his closet, she was more than surprised to find only half of it occupied with men's clothes... the other half occupied with the Prada and Chanel bags Dante had carried yesterday. 

   Out of curiosity, she looked into one of the bags and found a series of women's clothing. 

   "What the fuck?" she said to herself. He didn't exactly come across as a cross-dresser, but who was she to just assume? Maybe he had other interests during his spare time. Or maybe, he had a girl she didn't know about. Upon further investigation, she realized one of the outfits was the one she had tried on, but deemed too appropriate to wear. 

   Seriously weird. 

   Deciding she was in no mood to question it, she grabbed a pair of his sweats and a simple, black shirt before heading to the bathroom to change and make a DIY pad the only way she knew how - toilet paper. Lots of toilet paper. It wasn't her first choice. Or even her second. She genuinely considered just using the Mr. Clean sponge he had in his drawer but decided against it for obvious reasons. She needed to go home to deal with this properly. Gathering the few belongings she'd accumulated during her stay, she headed out of the bedroom to find Dante and inquire about her missing phone and purse. 

   She heard him before she saw him and followed his voice into the kitchen. He stood, casually leaning back against the island countertop, discussing something with someone on his phone. When he looked at her holding the shoes she had come to his house with, and the matching set he'd bought her, his face hardened.