8 / Devanté Swing pt. 1

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1995

"Jose!" you grinned, wrapping your arms around him, the mesh material of his shirt, scratching your exposed skin as he bent down to embrace you tighter

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"Jose!" you grinned, wrapping your arms around him, the mesh material of his shirt, scratching your exposed skin as he bent down to embrace you tighter.

"I've missed you baby," he mumbled into your hair.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to meet up earlier," you said as you pulled away, his low eyes taking in your appearance as you grinned, "It took a while to get ready."

He was faded.

"I can see that," he took your right hand in his, spinning you around, "you look fine as fuck"

"That was the idea," you winked, happy that he understood the look you were going for.

A friend of yours in the industry was having their annual charity ball to raise money for The Children Are The Future Foundation. Every year was a different theme. This year's theme was heavenly bodies. So your team figured that nothing screamed heaven more than an angel. You were wearing a fitted floor length gown, a large slit in the front – revealing your left leg, maybe a little too much. The top was a lacy, flowery print that went off your shoulders. Your hair was pinned back in an updo, a halo of diamonds coating your curls. Your makeup, however – was your favorite part. It was natural for the most part, but Gina – your stylist – made you look like you were practically glowing.

"I mean it _____", he said again, taking your hand in his rough ones as he led you to the parked car you were traveling to the gala in, "Everyone's gon' be jealous you my date."

"Jealous of you?" You scoffed, "Have you seen yourself? You look like the human embodiment of sex. Mister Jose Sexy"

"Exactly! Thank you!" He looked over at you incredulously as you slipped into the car after him, "Mario said I looked greasy."

Mario is Jose's partner of 2 years.

"Mario's an idiot."

"I know," he leaned back into the black leather seat, "I can't wait to get drunk tonight."

"Jose," you groaned, "I am not gon' be taking care you again tonight."

He nodded, a small smirk on his face, making your roll your eyes and turn to look at him more clearly, "I mean it."

"bien mi amor," he hummed, "You won't have to, you'll be drinking with me."

You laughed, throwing your heat back, "That's hilarious, there is no way they're going to serve alcohol to a nineteen-year-old."

"I can sneak you some."

You rolled your eyes, "I'm not getting drunk tonight – I can't have pictures of my underage intoxication plastered on a magazine."

He snorted, "I almost forgot – the world's princess."

"stop," you scrunched your nose at the nickname, it was something your dear friend, Arsenal Hall, called you a year ago publicly on his show – and it had stuck ever since, "I hate that."

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