𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔱
❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓 ❞
𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔱
𝕽𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖘𝖒𝖔𝖐𝖊 floated up and diffused as it hit the skylight ceiling. To anyone first entering the recording studio, it probably would've felt like a personal attack on the lungs, but for the group of stoned friends, it was the perfect ambience. Jack's head rested against the back of the wheelie, office chair he was slouched into by the audio interface, as he exhaled heavily into a raspy cough.
"You billin' that shit like you tryna see God, nigga, chill with that." Producer and good friend, Go Grizzly, snickered. He laid sprawled along the black leather couch in the corner of the room, sitting up to take the blunt from Harlow. He took a long draw himself before passing it over to Track Starz who was pacing back and forth, seeming to be in his own world.
"Shit's got me feelin' some type of way, I'll be real wit' you." Jack replied, once he caught his breath.
"Like what, like you wanna fuck? 'Cause I feel you, bro."
"Y'all wanna fuck each other? Damn, should we cut or somethin'?" Track interjected. Grizzly burst into hearty laughter, as Jack lowly chuckled.
Cooped up in the dark studio on shitty Friday evening, Jack Harlow was tirelessly working to get his album finished in the next month. Recording his twelfth song with his feature Bryson Tiller harmonising inside the soundproof booth for "Luv Is Dro", everyone had agreed that lighting a heavy blunt would make the session just a little more bearable.
"Y'all weird as hell, my God," Nemo Achida muttered, as he altered the soundboard.
The melodies of Static Major's sampled track played at full volume—Jack could feel the bass rumbling in his ears, causing his head to inadvertently bop along.
"Nah, for real, that weed's got me wantin' to call up my ex ting. She gave some sloppy top, bro, I miss that shit." Grizzly continued.
"You know what? You are so right, Grizz." Jack looked back over his shoulder, and Grizzly gave him a toothy grin. The blunt was passed back to Jack and he took another strong hit, this time he was able to manage the inhale and exhale just as smoothly.
"I ain't wishin' no ex tings on nobody, bruh. I can't deal wit' no one clingy like Tiana," Track sucked his teeth, finally entering the conversation. He threw himself onto the couch with little regard to Grizzly taking up the entire space.
"Yo! Ow!"
"Then move ya'self, Burger Jackson," Track jokingly poked him back.
"They only clingy if you sell 'em dreams, Track, you got a record of doing that, bro." Nemo scoffed.
"Sorry that she got addicted to me, then she started asking me dumb ass questions." he tutted.
The blunt ran through the group of men once again before Grizzly spoke up again.
"I ain't never forget when Chantel... she wanna ask me, she was like, 'What are we?'. I had to look at her and and be like, I was like, 'What are we? We are homo sapiens, we are human beings, we, you and I. That's it, that's we'. I'on know what she was playin' at, for real." he explained casually, gaining an uproar of laughter from the rest of the guys.
"You fuckin' hilarious, dude." Nemo cackled under his breath.
"Shawty wanted you, bro, why'd you fold like that?" Jack quizzed, as he spun in his chair to face the guys on the couch.
"Nah, you'on get it, Jack, you always in love, that love shit hella weird, bruh." Grizzly pouted sceptically.
"I am not!" he chortled.
"'Ight then, who you thinkin' about fucking right now, 'cause I know you got yo' mind on Val. Shawty had you wrapped 'round her finger, dawg!" All Jack could muster was a scoff as his already rosy cheeks began to warm up at the thought of her.
"Ay, look at him blushin'! Ooh, boy, Cupid pegged you wit' that arrow, didn't he? My youngen's in love!" Track whistled alongside Grizzly's encouragement.
"Ah, leave him alone, you two. You're up now, Jack, I gotta get some recordings of you and Bryson together." Nemo shooed the teasing men on the squashed couch.
Jack took a deep breath, just about able to get one more hit, before joining Bryson in the booth. Tiller grinned at the sight of the door opening and dapped him up, then Harlow ruffled his unkempt curls and slipped on the headset. The two artists flashed their thumbs to signal the ready, and as soon as the music filled his ears, he began to sway to the melody once again. The harmonious rhythm sent Jack's thoughts running, as he felt as though his feet were lifting from the ground.
She always made him feel like he was walking on air, floating on cloud nine, every time they lit up a spliff. Bodies intertwined, lips locked and hips grinding, as the smoke circled around them like a carousel. Sweat lined her smooth, brown skin that he enjoyed leaving kisses along, as he loved her slow.
As he sang along to his lyrics about her, that he'd day-dreamed about more often than normal, he wondered if experiencing such a sensual fantasy with Valerie would ever be possible again. In the meantime, he couldn't seem to stop his faded self from replaying their last long-awaited linkup.