Girls

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Fuck.
One word that enters my mind because I'm a complete dumbass. I'm 15, but yet, whiskey it good shit. No, I don't just have a hangover. I also have diarrhea. This day is going to kill me.
I walk out of my room and go to the kitchen. I assume dad is still asleep. So I grab a banana, a glass of water, and an ibuprofen. When I arrive back in my room, Grace is now vomiting in the bathroom in my room. Awesome. She's lucky she's hot, a genius, philosophical, and... I'm rambling, again.
I knock on the door before entering the bathroom, but she can't say anything as she is you know, vomiting. So I enter anyway. When I see her hunched over the toilet, I pull her hair up in a low ponytail and then place a cool towel over her neck.
My problem had subsided enough for me to control it and wait for her to settle down somewhat. "Thank you," she muttered with a smile. "You're welcome love. You drank less that I did and you're fucked. Oh baby," I comforted.
        No, we're not dating. I'm not going to date someone two days after meeting them, I'm not stupid. I'm just very affectionate through words, so 'love' and 'baby' are nothing new for me.
        I do have feelings for her. She's exactly like what I want in a girlfriend. I'm going to get her, you understand me? I won't let her slip away from my charm. So once she's gotten to a stable point, I pick her up bridal style and carry her back to me bed. I curl up next to her and start playing gently with her hair. I don't want to come on to strong because the pushes people away, obviously. So I figure this is the way to go.
        It's only 8:13 and fuck if I wake up that early, and actually stay awake. I roll over and go back to sleep for a while. My day should be better once I'm awake for good. Maybe I just got sick from something I ate yesterday. I don't care what it was from though, I know just glad it didn't last.
        Oh yeah, did I forget to mention? I like girls.

(a/n # 1: I love Mariah's pov. it's my favorite chapter I've written. I hope y'all enjoyed it.)
(a/n # 2 : MY SHADE TO MY OTHER STORY, I NEED TO CHILL)

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