chpt. 14- Party time.

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~~BILLIES POV~~

"Are you ready!"

"Almost!" I yelled back I just needed to find the silk over sized shirt I was going to wear over my crop.

What? I was feeling a little dangerous. So I'm wearing this.

"Okay I'm done!" I said walking out but making sure I grabbed my phone.

"Damn! Khalani lost someone hot as fuck" Zoe said hyping me up.

"She sure did, but come on let's go"

"Someone's a little too eager to go to a party she didn't want to go to "

"No, I just don't wanna have time to change my mind so let's go" I said practically almost inside her car

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"No, I just don't wanna have time to change my mind so let's go" I said practically almost inside her car.

"Okay, I'll hurry up"

~*~

-at the party-

Once we got inside the familiar smell of weed and alcohol hit my face. The whole setting was just your usual teenage party.

We got here a little late, just about an hour because of traffic and the house was pretty far from mine.

"Come on billie let's go see if we can find our friends"

"Okay" I barely managed to get it out before she dragged me through the ocean of sweaty and drunk bodies.

~~KHALANIS POV~~

I've been at the party for an hour or so. I was currently outside smoking some weed. Bitches keep trying to hit on me but because of Rebecca I can't do shit. Well it's not like she would find out. Whatever I need a drink.

As I was walking to the kitchen I felt a body collide with mine and I would've swore it kinda looked like Billie. But it probably wasn't because last time i checked Billie didn't wear croptop. Or maybe she does. I'm probably just seeing things and I'm also very much crossed.

"Hey! Khal over here! " I heard an echoed voice call.

I turned around to the sound of the voice. It was Rebecca. She was wearing a red satin dress and some simple black heels. I didn't notice but she looked fine as hell. But she's a bitch.

I started to walk towards her, well more like stumble my way through. Same thing right?

When I got there I almost fell and her arm wrapped around my waist.

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