YOUR HOT CHOCOLATE 1 [MxM]

13. ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀsʟᴇᴇᴘ▪️

[TERRAI MONTEGO]

I felt warm. Too warm. When I opened my eyes, everything was blurry, I couldn't make out my surroundings. I laid upside-down looking at nothing in particular. I never knew where I was for a few seconds, the sudden gush of cold winds, I felt colder, I was freezing but wasn't I burning up seconds ago? My teeth chattered, body trembled and just a cold chill ran down my spine.

"Come on Terrai!"

Who's voice is it?

No! I know that voice.

"Terrai!" I heard it a second time.

"Huh." I responded. I wonder if he can still hear me.

"Nigga, wake your ass up!" I jumped from the bed after I got a painful slap to my legs.

"I've been calling your ass for the last five minutes."

Huh.

"I'm up now. Nigga quit shouting or I finna beat yo ass." I laughed and jumped out of bed. Hearing my threats, Shawn rolled his and walked out of the room.

What kind of dreams are these that I'm getting?

Everytime I'm always trapped in the same vehicle my grandparents died in, I always feel the constant heat that pulled every moisture from my body, but in this dream, I felt cold, like I just ended up in the north pole, it felt like if I spent another second, hypothermia would've been my cause of death..

What does this fucking mean?

After the whole mental game I was playing with myself, I got up quickly rubbing my sleepy eyes, muttering good morning to no one in particular and went to brush my teeth.

I straightened the bed and opened the windows.
I ran out of the room when I remembered that some of my families will be here by noon and we need to start preparing the food. I have already changed into a white long sleeved shirt and  ripped blue demin jeans and walked to the kitchen, where Shawn and mom were having a small conversation.

Shawn was cutting onions, peppers, tomatoes and sweet peppers. Something you don't see every day, he he was wearing an apron that wrote 'kiss the sexy chef'. I sort of waited in the doorway taking in the picture of mom and Shawn, laughing and talking.
Both of them turned up me, I pretended like I just came and greeted mom.

"Mami." Kissing her cheek I headed to the fridge and grabbed for some orange juice. I half the polished glass, only three gulps I finished it.

"Jesus Christ, Terri, can you stop acting like your father. He drinks so loudly." I internally and physically flinched. She knows I hated being compared to that....man.

With a scrowl on my face, I avoided her and walked to the store room where the jerk pan is stored. I took out all the compartments and began to clean everything with some soap and water from the pipe in our backyard. I left them to drip-dry and got the burnt wood (coals) for the cooking.

After some of the water residue has dried, I immediately started to stick the logs underneath and lit a flame with the kerosene, then I allowed the woods to burn, so it would be like preheating the oven.