Illegal My Ass

Chapter 13- 'I'm not touching it Drake.'

A/N: Thank you to phoebegardens for the amazing banner! i think it sums Drake and Mia up perfectly hahaa.

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I really had no shame.

I was still in my room, currently in a pair of leopard print pyjama bottoms and a black tank top, cleaning up the bomb sight that is my room at 11pm at night whilst dancing to ‘Starships’.

The music was blaring out from my iPod docking station, and I was going about the room picking up random bits of clothes, putting them in the washing basket or back in the wardrobe depending on whether they smelt enough to wake the dead.

“Now everybody let me hear you say ray ray ray, now spend all your money cause today pay day…” I literally had no care in the world, singing with the voice that could probably scare off every bit of wildlife in a 100 mile radius “And if you a G, you a G, G, G.”

“Sweet lord have mercy.” I jump slightly as I hear the deep voice by the door and turn, ninja pose at the ready, to see an amused looking Drake stood in the door frame with his eyes wide and horror in his face “Were you…rapping?”

I relax my ninja pose as I realise I won’t have to be killing anyone right now.

Well, I say that, I don’t know how this encounter is going to go.

I shrug my shoulder “Don’t hate on a player.”

His eyes widen again and a massive smirk appears on his face as I say this. “Would you think badly of me if I thought those words coming out of your mouth were actually quite hot?”

I scrunched my face in disgust at him before I threw a dirty pair of shorts in the washing basket, and turn back to Drake just in time to see him step into my room, my private fortress, and shut the door behind him.

I was just about to tell him to leave the room, actually the words I was going to use as I'm going with this ‘rapper’ flow I got going right now were going to be ‘Dawg, get outta my crib’.

But before I had a chance to show just how hood I really was, I suddenly realised the good bit of the song was coming up.

I lift my arm up to tell him to stop moving, and he does, his face worried at my sudden action. I lift my index finger, indicating him to wait as I listen to the beat.

“We’re higher than a motherfucker…” I sing under my breath before the beat kicks in and I do what every other hard-core Jersey Shore fan would do.

I began to violently fist pump to the beat.

Drake furrowed his brows and looked at me like I had just grown a second head. The corners of his mouth were twitching though and I could tell he was trying to hold back laughter.

“Fist pump like this Louie!” I yelled as I continued my immense move, quoting the show that has caused my boredom to disappear so many times I had to honour it.

“Who the hell is Louie?” Drake asks confused.

“He’s your Guido alter-ego.” I clarify like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

His mouth forms into an O as he nods, but I could tell he still had no freaking clue what I was talking about.

He walks over to the docking station and pulls the iPod out, stopping the music and cutting me off mid fist pump.

I stare death in his direction.

He smirks at my expression before holding his hands out in defence.

“I don’t meant to interrupt your ‘flow’ there…” he air quotes, clearing his throat and raising his brows as he says it which basically told me he was calling me a freak “…but I think if I have to watch you do that for much longer I would have had to fist pump you in the face.”