19. Netflix & Chill

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Aurora's P.O.V.

I open the door, and there he is, standing there in a pair of light blue baggy sweats, his usual oversized white t-shirt with some white sneakers in his feet

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I open the door, and there he is, standing there in a pair of light blue baggy sweats, his usual oversized white t-shirt with some white sneakers in his feet. He's also got an opened light blue sweatshirt on and a light blue baseball cap on with a white bandanna underneath.

I'm annoyed because he actually looks good.

And also because I'm like... super nervous, and I don't even know why. There's absolutely no reason for me to get this way around Em, the white boy don't bother me none.

"Yo."

"Hi, Em."

"You gon let me come in or..." He trails off sounding lightly annoyed, a large pizza box in his hands.

I roll my eyes and step aside, letting him in.

The white boy casually strolls inside my apartment looking about him curiously with his usual stupid smirk plastered on his face.

He's sort of cute though...

Girl, stop!! I mentally faceplam myself.

I shut the door behind him, watching him look around my apartment.

"So, that's where you live," Em says, placing the pizza box on the coffee table by the couch and turning back towards me. " and you look good as fuck, Aurora," he compliments me. "And thank you."

"Yep," I reply back, blushing for whatever weird ass reason. God, like what is wrong with me for real?!

"Um, you can take a seat " I then say to Em somewhat shyly, kicking myself instantly, because what the actual hell?!

And the motherfucker instantly plops down on my couch, seating all manspread and all, legs far apart with his baggy pants on, an elbow propped up on one of his knees, hand under his dimpled chin.

"You got something to drink in this bitch, Aurora? Cause to be for real with you, I'm thirsty as fuck right now," he states, eyeing me up and down.

"I bet you are," I mutter under my breath.

"What was that, girl?" Em frowns.

"Oh, nothing," I let a small smirk on my face before composing myself. "Um... what would you like?"

"Got any beers, girl?"

"Actually no," I scrunch up my nose. "I sort of hate beer, it tastes like piss to me," I shrug, standing with one of my hips cocked, hand on my waist as I pout.

"Now no offense, baby, but how would ya even know what piss states like?" Em then deadpans me, and my eyes widen at the absolute ridiculousness of his question.

"You do know that's a metaphor, right?" I then roll my eyes at him, secretly studying his freckled complexion just as his baby blues keep roaming my body underneath that stupid ass Juicy Couture suit.

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