Redhead got benched while we were gone.
I guess she didn't accomplish what she was there for.
Now there's a blonde
with purple streaks and face piercings.
She's halfway in his lap,
wearing a cropped mesh tank
and a leather mini skirt,
a tattoo sleeve like a Lisa Frank meltdown.
Her fingers wind up in his hair when she sees me,
twisting at the nape,
grazing slow up into roots.
She's glaring so hard at me
the stare drips hot down the side of my face.
I freeze, heartbeat stuttering at the sight.
My brain's trying to talk me out of giving a fuck. But with every step, it's like I'm scrambling, picking up my stomach,
lungs,
heart off the floor,
carrying myself to the corner of the booth,
back to the wall,
arms heavy.
Mikey lifts his brows at Andrew when he approaches, then leans in on his way to sit down, slapping Andrew's knee with the back of his hand—“Bro… you’re fuckin’ slippin’ hard right now. The fuck’s wrong with you?”
He whispers it before sliding in beside me,
shaking his head.
Andrew's eyes slam into mine,
then bounce to Mikey,
then Nico as he leans back, fist clenching,
ignoring the tits and ass parked on top of him.
He’s not touching her.
In fact,
he’s trying to touch her as little as possible.
