Distractions (D. SWING)

46

Boring

I roll over to my left, accidentally bumping against DeVante. Hair dye covers the pillow, my eyes opening to become aware of this realization as he lightly snores. My head's pounding, it's doing ten million backflips throughout my skull. I take a deep breath and fling the blanket off of me. I remember last night in clear detail, clear drunken detail, as after x amount of drinks, it all became an outer body experience.

The way the limo ride went left me very uneasy and I fell asleep in DeVante's arms. A blink of the eye later, he was carrying me up the stairs by my waist. I find it surprising considering that he could barely walk himself. He was fucked up worse than I was. When we got upstairs, I asked him to take my dress off. As he performed the task, he begin to kiss down my neck and my spine and then my– He felt a certain kind of way, to say the least. The plan was to have sex but, the Tiger Bomb kicked in. He passed out and I was right beside him. Now, if all of this were the only way we ended our night, I say we would be good. However...

K-Ci exists and that's why I woke up highly irate this morning.

I bring my head back up from spitting out my toothpaste bubbles and wipe my lips clear of the excess paste. I am already in my robe. I don't have the energy to walk around naked. "Get up," I say aloud, fiercely stomping as I walk back into our bedroom. I snatch the blanket off of DeVante. "Get the fuck up."

Eyes barely open, DeVante's groans are far from foreign to my ears.

"I got a lot to say to you, you know that?"

He doesn't say anything. DeVante only grumbles some more, rolling over onto his stomach, shoving his face into the pillow. "Goodmorning, Nel." His low mumble extracts an eye roll.

My tone raises a notch. "Don't good morning me. I woke up sober and pissed. It's not a good morning."

A loud sigh escapes DeVante's lung. I watch his body sluggishly roll out of the bed. His slacks barely hang onto his body, the sane white dress shirt on his body except every single button is undone, cufflinks included. His dress socks drag against the carpet as he enters the bathroom. I turn to watch him, frustrated at the fact that he is doing all of this before answering me. He brushes his teeth and washes his face before briskly emerging from the bathroom in his briefs. He throws himself onto the bed, adjusting his positioning beneath the blanket before settling in one position. He stares back at me with sleepy eyes.

"Are you going to say something?" My snap is the product of my irritation worsening.

Wrestling with the air within the comforter, DeVante smacks his lips. "What's your problem this morning?" He sprawls out in the bed. "We had a good day yesterday, last night was the bomb. What is there for you to possibly be mad about?"

"How about your drunk ass bestfriends getting their dicks sucked with me right there. How about you trying to fuck me in front of everybody in that limo."

DeVantr laughs, as if nothing I say is serious. "So now he only my people?" His eyebrows rise in amusement. He holds back a snicker.

"Don't do that!"

Fully allowing himself to chuckle, DeVante's eyebrows continue to form figure eights. This time, in the expression of surprise. "Do what, Chanel?"

"Lay in bed and be all... cute! You know I'm pissed and instead of taking me serious, you get up and just waltz your black ass into the bathroom like it's a regular morning. And then, you come back in your little Calvin Kleins with no damn shirt or clothes on and lay in the bed making face at everything I say! Stop it!"

His eyes narrow, a slight smile emerging upon his lips, "You think I'm cute?"

"And now he's flirting," I think aloud. "Why are you talking to me like you're trying to get me in bed? Aren't we far past that?"