. . .
"Hold on!" a familiar voice demanded as I patiently knocked by the door, and rolled my eyes every minute that passed.
Nobody likes a tardy person, but I happen to love one.
"For heaven's sake, Lizzy! What took you so long?"
I don't know why I'm still friends with this woman. She's my best friend, Lizzy. We've been together since 2nd grade, and I get into so much trouble every time I'm with her. She was nicknamed the headmaster in high school. And by head, I mean the one with a brain inside it, not the one found between a man's leg. Ergh, my ex-boyfriend is an exception though, his brain is so little it only fits the head he has down there. Oops, anyway,
"I had to run and fix myself."
I followed her to the kitchen, and there was a canvas facing the countertop, giving the painter a view of the massive window with several indoor plants covering just the wall below the window pane. And where's the painter?
"Who's painting you then?"
"Me." She turned around and removed her robe.
Oh my holy ghost, what has gotten in her mind.
"What the f.uck do you think you're doing?" My eyes widened at her nude body.
She was wearing nothing. It's official; I'm best friends with an insane person. Her body wasn't breathtaking, just kidding, please excuse my insecure ass, her skin is soft and smooth and pale. She's more in shape than me, and it's because she's a vegetarian and I'm not. I'm a guilty carnivore, myself.
"Paint me like one of your French girls," she teased.
"Get over yourself, Lizzy." I squinted my eyes while my brows met as I watched her try on several poses.
It is so awkward seeing her, like that, just skin, pure human skin. I mean she's my best friend, but that doesn't mean we run around naked whenever we're together! Duh?
"Oh God, stop, I can't watch this." I covered my eyes with my hands, and thank goodness she put on her red robe back, which reminded me of the origin of her headmaster crown.
It was in 8th grade, we were at a new year's eve party, and we had a couple of drinks. To be honest, when she's drunk, she gets a little wild, and out of control. She mocked this guy, who just admitted he had a long time crush on her, to ignite a firework cracker as a sign of his loooOOOooovEEee. Everyone was drunk, but unfortunately, I belonged on the 3% of the population who were sober enough to remember what happened that night. The guy really did, light up a firecracker and failed to release it on time. As a result, he blew his brains out, and his bloody, gross and ugh, crushed brain meat splattered on the perimeter around, including Lizzy, who was unluckily the only one with him. Gross.
Oh, she was literally, a bloody mess. It was like that prom scene on Carrie, in 3D, oh hold up, wait it was much worse than that. Imagine seeing it live. Everyone in school gossiped about that tragedy, including the remark that Lizzy made his head explode, thus earning the headmaster status, low key blaming her for what happened.
"Did your b.astard ex-boyfriend bring home another h.oe again?"
What else could it be? He's a pain the ass. I'm big-time regretting my decision that I ever agreed to play his game. Me and my stupid pride.
"You could've just left that apartment, you know. Why are you still staying anyway? He enjoys hurting you as much as you hurt yourself."
Me? Hurt? As if? I'm running away because I don't want to be mistaken as my boyfriend's pimp. I'm not pimping that ugly face of his. Ergh.
"I'm not leaving; I own that place! Besides, I kinda..." I stuttered, shy and tremulous to say what I had to say.
"Are you pregnant?!" She was quick to grab my arms, squeezing them tight to extract answers from my lips.
"What? No! It's just that I..."
"Tell it before I pull out your tongue."
Trying to hold it back a little more, I took a deep breath and relaxed. I can do this! I loathe myself, really.
"Itoldhimiwouldmakehislifemiserableuntilheleavestheapartment."
"Oh, my girl bites. Then kick his ass, or his balls, wait no, not his balls, wait no, I don't know, kill him if you're out of choices."
Did you catch her sarcasm right there? Yes, girl, that's my best friend talking about killing my ex. I mean if she would, then I would... you know... help her dispose of his body or something.
. . .
I went back to my apartment seeing him lying on his stomach on the couch. He wasn't wearing any shirt, and I was so full of myself. I leaned on the back of the huge sofa, my stomach curved with the shape of the headrest, reaching out for him, and ran my fingers on his back, tracing his spine all the way to his neck. "How's your dream, babe?" I goofed on him as I feel his face with my cheek.
"You miss me, don't you?" he spoke half-awake and smirked at me as I peck on his dimple.
The muscles on his back make him so irresistibly hot and attractive. Imagine being pressed on the bed by his broad chest and well-sculpted abs; I moaned at the thought.
"Kiss me," I whispered close to his lips, seeking permission to enter them.
He kissed me passionately, first with a slow pace, and then he sucked my lower lip, making me groan in pain. I took out the kitchen knife I hid and stabbed his firm, and toned back, causing his blood to drip on and stain the sofa slowly. His last breath escaped his lips as I ended the kiss.
ㅡㅡㅡㅡ
🌻 note:
Aaaaaaayyyyeee! At last, my hell week is over. I had to hold back my urge to write this chapter and endlessly curse the characters. Honey, I'm so drained, and so thankful the stressful part of school is over which means I'm releasing chapter two in a day or so or I don't know. I'm kinda preparing for another book *wink*.
You may check my other books as well though. And after writing that prior sentence, I realized I had written fanfic for the maknae line. Cheers! No? Don't you like that? Okay :(
Don't forget to vote or push any of the buttons if you feel like it. I'm out!
