Black Meets White

Mock Day.

If you hate me,log on to 'KISS-MY -ASS.com'

Tamara's pov

I think Monday must be a man because it comes too quickly,and men do the same thing.

Monday is the shortest horror story ever. Literally, God gave us Mondays to punish us for the things we did over the weekend.

I've come to believe that everything that starts with 'M' literally sucks and I'll prove that. Mondays,Men, Marriage, Menstruation... You get my point?

I even stopped going to marriage ceremonies because they're funerals with cakes. Monday is like a mock day to me. A day waiting to mock you after the weekend.

My alarm rings again but I have to go through the five stages of waking up first. Denial,anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.

Seriously waking up before 7am should be illegal because I think I'm allergic to mornings. Who likes mornings anyway?

I wake up looking better everyday but today I'm exaggerating. I look like I'm gonna faint any moment from now.

"You're up so early." Nia's sleepy voice reaches me. I had even forgotten I had a roommate. She yawns and sits straight on the bed.

"You know the part I like about waking up early?" I ask while undressing.

She shakes her head and I swear I can feel her eyes on my bum.

"None. And if Monday had a face I would punch it." I say.

After spending thirty minutes in the shower shaving my legs and waxing everything, I get out feeling clean and bald.

I put on my leather skirt which barely covers my thighs and a cropped white blouse with 'I hate Mondays' written on the front. I pair them with my knee length boots.

I make sure my make up is minimal because I like staying natural,save for the pink lipstick I've been wearing since high school. It's my signature.

"Are you going to class like that?" Nia asks while staring at my outfit.

"Nope, I'm actually going to the gym today." I say sarcastically while swinging my bag onto my back.

"Your blouse is..."

"Cropped." I cut her off before slamming the door behind me.

I pace along the stairs because everyone is scrambling to get on the elevator and I'm in no mood for that.

I bump into something hard and go flying down the stairs before the railings on the stairs save me from the embarrassment.

"Watch where you are going you old fart!" I bellow at the man standing up the stairs with a confused look.

"Sorry?" He mumbles in a low tone.

His head is clean shaven and he's adorned in a grey suit that fits him perfectly. I can tell he's in the early thirties or late twenties.

"You can tell sorry to your bald head and bushy pubic hair." I scoff before running up the stairs again.

A familiar figure is pacing up and down the lecture hall and when our eyes meet,he smirks.

Yeah,you guessed right. Hunter.

I suddenly feel like deja poo. The feeling that I'm going to hear shit from the asshole looking in my direction right now.

I'm about to go past him when he grabs my hand pulling me to him with so much force. I wince in pain and slap his hand away.

"Take back what you said about me, and I'll let you go." He snarls.