Odell Beckham Jr. Imagines

Drumming for Make Up Sex

shaybooo16

I remember sleeping. Why does everything always begin with waking up? I did. I woke up. I was sleeping then I suddenly wasn't. I opened my eyes.

I opened my eyes and looked up, coughing a little. Then came the banging – oh yeah, the banging woke me up. This horrible, artless banging woke me up. It had been going for almost 30 minutes and tearing me from my precious summer sleep. Oh, that banging.

I got out of bed wearily. I laid there for a moment, praying the banging would just stop but it did not. So I got up. I got up in my shorts and tank top, from my queen bed in my little room at my brother's place. The walls were accented with all the glory of a 17 year old girl. It was truly my room. My domain.

And here I was leaving it because of this damned banging. I growled like any teenage girl would at this annoying sound. I knew exactly where it was coming from, the garage. My garage. Inside was a drum set that belonged to my older brother. But this graceless banging wasn't the rhythmic banging of a man identical to me. It was unsorted and frigid. And fuck it all, it was keeping me up.

I went to the garage, barefoot and all. And without a doubt, inside was my boyfriend just banging away at those things. Odell. He was way better at Piano and he needed to keep it that way.

He didn't even see me standing there in the doorway, leaned against the threshold post. He was too busy bashing those cylinders. It was even louder up close and essentially it was driving me mad and possibly – definitely terminating the cells that make hearing possible.

"Fuck!" I screeched. "Odell!"

He ceased his work, looking up at me as if I had intruded upon his session. "Yeah?" He asked.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" I shouted, for all the neighborhood to hear as the garage door was open. They were used to our fights – perhaps not this early in the morning though. "It's eight in the morning and you wanna pick now to get on the fucking drums?"

He looked at me, appalled. "Uhh... what the fuck? Get out of my fucking face with that yelling shit!" He yelled back as if that would resolve the situation.

"Hey! News flash! You're in my house, dickhole!" I shouted back. "Stop with the fucking banging! You're giving me a headache. It's too early for that shit!"

"Fine! Fuck it." He immediately got up, abandoning the drum sticks and the drums and heading straight for me. He moved right past me into the house. I watched his every movement with crossed arms, even angered by his minor actions.

"What the hell is your problem?" I huffed, stepping towards him to better articulate my words – by that I mean I wanted to yell directly into his face.

"You always get mad when I want to play the drums-"

"No! No! No! No! No! Shut up, that's not true! You wanna play the drums early as fuck in the morning and I-"

"Just shut up, really! Where the fuck do you get off, comin' out of nowhere just yelling and shit like you run the place!"

"I'm trying to sleep! You're waking the neighbors. I swear, you get on my damn nerves-"

And there we were, in the middle of my kitchen with eyes cocked to each other's faces – just shouting at one another at eight in the morning. I don't even believe we were arguing. We were just ranting simultaneously. Neither of us gave the other a chance to speak, it was all about ourselves. Always.

"What the fuck?" A sleepy brother of mine groaned as he entered the kitchen in his pajamas, wiping his eyes. "Guys, I'm trying to sleep." I moaned with a yawn.