•Omaha Interracial Preferences• ✔

•Preference• *11

Drunk words, sober thoughts:

Dillon:
His POV
Where the hell did Y/n go? I glance through the crowd of hyped, crazy people. And when I mean crazy, I mean crazy. I don't even know why I decided to take Y/n here. Everywhere I looked, someone was either having sex against the wall, snorting cocaine, or even shooting hits of heroine through there veins. God, I'm so stupid. I was so scared out of my mind for Y/n, too. She could be anywhere in here, doing something stupid that'd she regret. Then again, she was a very smart girl and kept herself out of trouble. "Dillon!", someone shouts from behind me. I instantly turn around, catching contact with, a most definitely high, Nate. "Hey, Nate," I say lowly. He grabs my shoulder and shakes my body, "Bro, loosen up man. You need to get laid! Hold up - Let me call Stassie - Hey Stassie! C'mere -" "Nate, no!" I warn him, "I don't wanna get laid. I'm looking for Y/n. Have you seen her?" Nate takes a sip of his beer, "Yeah, she was out there dancing with some guys, you know, where you should've been." I rolled my eyes, "Thanks N -" "You need to ask her out all ready, man. I mean, y'all can't be friends forever." I ignored him and walked away. I was upset because I knew he was right. I was in love with Y/n. But, she only knew me as the goody nerd from Pre-K who helped her on a macaroni art project.