They’ve been together forever, and I still don’t know a thing about the guy. Whenever he’s around, I can feel the entire vibe shift. Navy starts acting less and less like herself,which says about how he “tames” her bold personality. I hate it. Not only is she the kindest person I’ve ever known, but she’s incredibly loyal and loves big.
All I want is for her to be treated with the same love and respect, for someone to cherish and spoil her. She deserves it.
I know she’s not whipping out baby names and searching for forever homes with the guy, but he seems pushy to lock her down. I don't know. It could most definitely be in my head, my protective side rushing to the forefront.
I finally decide on a pair of skin-tight, leather straight jeans, a black lace corset top, and my black and white Dunks. I feel cute, sexy, and confident that my feet won’t fail me.
Comfort—you’ve never let me down.
Deciding I’d rather not spend hours doing my hair when I’m going to sweat the second I enter the club, I let my natural beach waves hang down my back in a messy and mussed way. I spritz some texturizing spray on the ends and the roots to give it that volume that brings out my sassiness.
I’m on the prowl tonight.
As long as there are no feelings involved with said stranger, I’ll get my dose of physical touch and be on my way.
Back to the land of the numb and broken, that is.
I contemplate letting Navy in on my plans in case I become a liability. We wouldn’t want the Striker’s newest photographer showing her itty bitty’s in public and causing a scene. Modesty does not faze me when tequila enters the chat. I think better of it, though, and vow to myself that vodka is the only drink on the menu tonight. No one gets to worry about me.
I’ll save the guilt for the morning after.
It’s time to cleanse the effects of my ex and Mr. Ocean Eyes from my system and have a carefree night.
I’ve got some stress to relieve.
Turnsout I am most definitelynoton the prowl tonight. I’m not entirely sure I have game at all.
How does prowling even work? I’ve been so out of touch that I don’t know where to start.
Are introductions too formal, or do I stand around, look pretty, and wait for the men to come to me? Hell, if I know.
My look of confusion is likely not doing me any favors. I’m lucky if I get the bartender to notice me for my drink order, let alone a man wanting to jump my bones and clear the cobwebs.
I’ve been told before that my resting face is intimidating and does better work at scaring men away than drawing them near.
I can already feel my bed calling my name.
I’m about to order my second vodka soda when Navy slides up behind me from the dance floor. She comfortably grabs my shoulders and leans to the right side of my head, pulling my attention from my drink. She’s glistening in sweat, but that does nothing to dull her fit of choice. Navy is wearing a tight red mini dress with a cowl neckline, showing some of her tan cleavage, and slinky gold heels.
My best friend is a beauty.
She stands tall at five eleven with legs for days and bright chestnut hair that reaches the middle of her back in large bouncy curls. I always tell her she’s the red-headed Tori Kelly of any man's dreams. Her bright emerald green eyes look like they’re made of mermaid scales—they’re hypnotizing.
She’s God's favorite.
She’s a knockout in every sense of the word, yet her humble spirit is her best quality.
I’m seated on a black leather bar stool, fighting my lower back discomfort by sitting as delicately as possible. The club is a place I’ve never felt too comfortable, most likely being the reason for my instability. I feel out of place, but that’s the point, I guess. Even so, with Navy attached to me like a koala, the uneasiness of my nerves begin to settle. Always keeping me on my toes, Navy falls into a fit of giggles, jumping around like she’s excited about something.
She’s drunk.
“Kodi, you have to come out and dance with us. I told Luke if he gave the DJ twenty bucks to play our song next, I’d make it worth his while once we got back to our place. His dick can hold off for a couple of hours, though. I wanna dance with my best friend.”
How can I possibly say no to her?
I think she needs this night as much as I do, and the chances of me meeting a guy nestled in the corner alone are slim.
Chuckling to myself, I throw back the last sip of my vodka soda and summon up as much energy as possible. “Let’s turn some heads, Navy girl.”