Let's Do It, Again

BFF

I rummaged through Trey's cabinets, a large smirk creeping upon my face when my fingers brushed against exactly I was searching for.

I curled my hand around the cool glass bottle, the sleek shape illuminated by the kitchen lights.

Unscrewing the top, I brought the bottle to my lips, and as soon as the liquid trickled down my throat, all the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

The taste was strong and sour, but that suited me just fine. The amber juice swooshed and slurped as I took another chug and brought the bottle back down.

"I missed you," I slurred, bringing the bottle to eye-level. After only finding two bottles of wine and another of champagne, I was slightly tipsy.

But I didn't care. Trey was taking care of Lilah while he was downstairs in his home studio, after I told him I was 'coming down with something' and needed some rest.

After he took Lilah downstairs, I waited a few minutes before I crept down into the kitchen.

I needed something to take the panic and jittery feeling away. And drinking used to be a habit of mine, that kept me calm and collected. It dulled my senses so I wasn't glancing back and forth wondering if someone was watching me through the bushes.

And I have an excuse don't I?

Correction - I have multiple excuses. My mother passed away. My husband cheated on me. I'm being stalked by some psycho maniac, for fucks sake.

Who wouldn't drink at a time like this?

No-one understood my pain, besides my best friend, Tequila.

As I sat at the island, downing glass after glass, I was oblivious to the sound of keys rattling and the front door opening.

It was only until I heard footsteps, the bump of heavy boots, that I stood straight, and swallowed quickly.

I peaked from behind the kitchen door frame and saw a figure in the living room, they're back turned as they're head moved from side to side.

Grabbing the empty bottle of Tequila, I stalked into the living room, trying to keep my steps light.

But the fact that I was intoxicated didn't help me one bit.

As I reached the glass coffee table, I bumped my shin on the hard edge, an insane burning pain shooting up my leg.

"Fuck!" I mouthed, my eyes watering. "Motherfucking bitch!" Every swear word in the book flew from my mouth mutely, as the pain seared around the bottom of my leg.

I bit my lip from making any other noises, glad the figure was still oblivious to my presence a few feet away from where they stood.

Gripping the glass bottle tightly, I stepped over to the figure and crashed the bottle as hard as I could against their back.

The figure yelped, a deep, throaty cry, bringing a hand back to press against the area I hit. I took this as an advantage to pounce on them, clinging to their body like I somebody glued my body against their body.

By the way their shoulders felt stalky and broad, and the slight bulge of muscles that popped from their arms, I could assume the person was a man. A well-built man, at that.

I felt my body being picked up and slammed down, causing me to screech. The floorboards creaked at the sudden strain, and the air was knocked from my lungs.

In that moment, the living room light flicked on, and I heard Trey shout.

"Woah, what the fuck is going on in here?!" He briskly came over and helped me up.

I looked up at the man, his expression a mixture of irritation blended with slight confusion.

"She attacked me like some wild animal," he pointed a finger at me, holding his back. "I think she smashed a glass bottle into my back."

Trey assessed the shards of glass sparkling all over the floor and carpet, then glanced down at me. "Did you?"

I looked at the man, examining him. He was a little under average height, but what he didn't have in height he made up for in looks and muscle. His skin was golden caramel, and his small brown eyes complimented his delicate features. His hair was dark and shaven, a subtle fade showing from his temple down to his ear.

He was still looking at me with annoyance, like I was some sort of naughty pre-school child.

I glared at him. "What do you expect me to do? He waltzed in here like he owned the damn place, and I got scared, so I attacked," I brought my lips to Trey's ear ad whispered, "Motherly instincts," slowly, giggling.

"Have you been drinking?" He asked, sniffing the air around me and eyeing me with a weird expression.

"No," I said coyly, then giggled again.

I had the tendency to turn into a five-year-old when I was drunk. Guess I contradicted myself, then.

"Oh, so she's not a crazy bitch who attacks strangers when she's sober?" He smirked.

Trey chuckled. "I can't promise that."

They both laughed and gave each other dap, going into a short bear hug.

"Izzy, my man," Trey grinned, patting 'Izzy's back.

I watched them, gently swaying from side to side, humming a John Legend song under my breath.

By the way 'Izzy' looked over at me, I must have been humming loudly. "Yo, is she okay?"

Trey shrugged. "Rie, you good?"

I smiled lob-sidedly. "Super dup-" before I could finish, I coiled over, and vomited all over Izzy's black Timberland boots.

~

".. Nah, I just came back down from Denvour, decided to stop by."

I heard an unfamiliar voice say.

"How'd you get in?" Trey's voice rang in my ears.

"You know you still keep your spare key under the welcome mat."

Trey chuckled, and it felt like a million needles were being pressed against my brain.

I groaned, opening my eyes. I came into view with Trey, sitting on the opposite end of the couch I was laying on, my toes skimming just against his thigh.

"Why are y'all speaking so loud?" I whispered roughly, holding my temples.

They both chuckled, and my head throbbed. "You must be feeling like shit, Rie." Trey smiled at me, his eyes filled with humour.

I made a face. "That is an understatement."

The memories were vague even though they happened only a short while ago.

I looked around and saw another man sitting on the sofa next to Trey's side. He gave me a sympathetic look. "Who's the guy?" I asked, jutting a finger at him.

"This is Israel, he's an old friend of mine from back in the day." He told me, still smiling.

"You can call me Izzy," he said to me.

"I'd rather not," I said curtly, getting up slowly and walking steadily to the kitchen.

I could see Israel's dumbfounded expression in my peripheral as I walked away, making me smile.

"You know, if wind changes, your face is gon' stay like that," I said, hearing Trey snort before I disappeared into the kitchen.

Don't try me, nigga.

~~~

Sorry for that wait you gorgeous people, the last few weeks of school were too amazing, and I couldn't get away for any longer than a second to write. But gimme feedback babies.

- S✌