but the sky is never gray | frank ocean.

and i still drove 30 hours

❝ Why's everything that's supposed to be bad make me feel so good?❞
- Kanye West. Addiction.

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If the room service Rowe ordered was to arrive now, they would hear was the sound of wet feet padding sloppily against the bathroom's white and green tiles, as one very stressed woman tried her best to sound relaxed.

Rowe had woken up before Slick (she always did), allowing her to escape the house and find some kind of refuge for her mind to roam free. She wasn't expecting to see Frank's face lighting up her phone's screen at noon.

And she certainly wasn't expecting an invite to his apartment. And now she was in a bit of a...situation.

In her haste, Rowe had foolishly forgotten a change of clothes meaning she would have to run back to her apartment for an appropriate outfit after room service came, and only God knows how long that would take. Combining this with the fact that she had a nail appointment and plans to spend the rest of her day selling off stolen goods, Rowe was feeling a bit of anxiety.

And to make bad worse, Frank refused to tell her what he had planned.

"Okay, but are you going to like, dress cute?" she said, continuing to pace the now-wet floor.

A smooth, manly voice resonated from the speaker of her white fur encased iPhone. "I'm always cute."

Rowe rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Not particularly. " The tease in his tone told her a completely opposite story.

"Cheeky, aren't ya?Just tell me: should I wear something fancy, or more casual, or what?"

"Somewhere in between I guess, I dunno."

"That's so vague bruv, I swear to-, you know what? When I show up in a potato sack, don't say sh-"

"You look good in anything, baby," Frank interrupted.

Rowe opened her mouth to berate him for his interruption, but clamped it back shut feeling herself dampen at the use of that word.

A hearty laugh sounded out. "Now you're quiet, huh?"

"Shut up. I'm hanging up now."

"I'm picking you up at seven!" he spoke quickly, before she had the chance to press "end".

Rowe stood still, wrapped in the white fluffy hotel towel with a dumbass grin on her face, until she heard a firm knock signifying the arrival of her breakfast.

∆

Rowe sat in the Über, greedily eyeing the little zippy bag of cocaine sitting in her worn-leather knapsack.

She released a nervous chuckle. I feel like one of those cheesy sitcom characters. *record scratch* you're probably wondering how I got here, she thought to herself.

It started when she entered the mall looking to get her nails done, clad in a black juicy couture sweatsuit that she was 97% sure had a hole in it somewhere and her bag swinging freely on her shoulder. The white Reeboks on her feet became a blur as she speedwalked to Niecey's Nails, her hands tucked in her pockets, such as to prevent as many people as possible from seeing her shoddy nails.

At this relatively high walking pace, it was no surprise to her she crashed into a tall, lean man. Nor was she surprised to see that she had knocked him on to his ass.

The surprise came when she saw a previous buyer on the cold mall floor staring back at her. They stared back at each other with that 'are you who I think you are' bewilderment for about 5.5 seconds, and Rowe, remembering she had most definitely ripped him off, took to speedwalking in the opposite direction.