Imagine That (Oneshots)

In Bloom (Part 2)

When I asked why she did it, she shrugged carelessly and said that the fans asked her a question and all she did was answer it. I didn't think that was a good enough excuse to throw me under the bus and into a spotlight I didn't ask to be in. I didn't even want the exposure and she knew that. Now I was waking up to thousands of Instagram follows each day and hundreds of messages.

'Plus, you're my best friend and you record so much of my dope ass visual art. It's time people know your name. Just don't go recording videos with none of these other rap bitches unless it's Nicki. You're mine,' she had warned me during that same conversation.

"Well, be safe," I said as I went back to scrolling through the pictures we had taken less than an hour ago for some Nike promotion she was doing.

"Yeah yeah, I'll be back in like an hour or somethin' like that," she told me as she unwrapped herself from around me.

Little did she know, by the time she got back, I would be gone. Ain't no way I was sticking around to watch her and Pardison swap spit all day.

"Okay, see you later," I waved her off.

"Keep giving me that stank ass attitude and I'mma knock your head between the washer and dryer," she mumbled even though she knew I heard her, I just chose to pretend I didn't.

She picked up 4oe, who was laying next to the stool I was sitting on, and left me alone in the kitchen. My dryness toward her was a culmination of things. For one, her and Pardi were still together, two, we had yet to address what happened between us that night, and three, that stupid ass tweet. It was like Megan enjoyed the access and control she had over me. She got to choose when people would know who I was.

A couple minutes later, the front door opened and closed, announced by the alarm system. I started packing up my camera equipment. About forty minutes later, I got a text from my ride saying that they were outside. Megan was probably on her way back now. I walked out of the house, duffel bag over my shoulder, and opened the door to the backseat of the black Escalade.

"Hey boo."

Before I could even answer her, my phone started ringing and it was a FaceTime call. I saw it was Megan and scoffed, but I answered nonetheless. I threw the phone on the seat as I reached over the back row to sit my duffel bag of film supplies in the trunk space.

"Where the fuck you going?" Megan asked. She probably got the alarm notification that the front door had opened.

"Out. Don't wait up, not that you would be anyway." I added the last part on because I could see the corner of Pardi's forehead and fuzzy ass braids on Megan's shoulder.

She moved the phone closer to her face, like that would help her see who was way on the other side of the truck even with the camera pointed at the ceiling,"with who?" She continued to interrogate me.

"Someone," I sassed.

"Y/N. I told you quit playing with me, hoe! You keep giving me that damn attitude and I swear I will-," I hung up and immediately put my phone on do not disturb so the tirade of subsequent calls I was going to receive couldn't come through.

"Why didn't you tell her you were with me?" Normani asked as she giggled at the exchange. I don't know why people always found our bickering to be funny, I really wanted to punch Megan in her solar plexus sometimes.

I raised an eyebrow and looked at her, "why would I? She don't need to know all my business," I climbed into the truck and shut the door, "hello, by the way. Think I got interrupted before I could say that."

"You're so sweet," she gushed and leaned over to kiss my cheek.

"So where are we going?" I inquired. I asked for three reasons. One, I felt bad for the driver since their job is to, you know...drive, and we were sitting idle in Megan's circular driveway. Two, Megan would probably be pulling into said circular driveway in the next couple minutes. And three, I genuinely was just asking.