Chapter 4

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Back at my place, we lit up a joint, the sweet smoke filling the air. "This is great shit," Jessy complimented, and I just nodded in agreement. We spent the evening dancing, laughing, and taking silly videos – our worries forgotten.

But the night took a turn when Jessy climbed onto the table, dancing to Chris Brown's "Wobble Up." She lost her balance and tumbled off, leaving me in stitches. We made a pact not to climb on furniture again – a promise we'd soon forget.

The night blurred into a haze of music, laughter, and smoke. We danced until we collapsed on the floor, exhausted.

The next morning, I woke up to a pounding headache and a cold, hard floor. I stumbled to the bathroom, still chuckling about the previous night's antics. Jessy looked like a hot mess, with clown paint smeared on her face. She got up, rubbed her eyes, and grumbled, "Bitch, keep it down."

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, we headed downstairs to survey the damage. Our lounge was a disaster zone – chips and pillows everywhere, the table overturned. We laughed, remembering our pillow fights and wrestling matches.

We downed a bitter remedy for our hangover, then set to work cleaning up the chaos. As we worked, we lit up morning joints, savoring the sweet smoke.

The day flew by in a haze of cereal, junk food, and horror movies. We ordered pizza, too high to cook, and devoured it in silence. As the night drew to a close, we tidied up and crashed into bed, exhausted but exhilarated from our indoor adventure.

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