Hiraeth
|heer-eyeth| (n.)
a homesickness for a home you can't return to, or a home that never was.
As humans, each one of us yearns for something oh so deeply, and not all of us might get that. But if we ever do, we keep it so close to us, clingin...
P.S. Y'all this book has a lot of sex references, so like, stay away from it if you don't like that kind of stuff okay? 💀
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❛❛I heard you're a player. Nice to meet you, I'm the coach.❜❜
❛❛「₪」❜❜
With the effects of alcohol still lingering, she somehow manages to park her car. Her vision is slightly blurry and steps slightly wobbly, nobody knows how she is still in her right mind. Perhaps she has good resistance power. Perhaps she is so pissed, not even alcohol can calm the burning fire inside of her.
Two weeks. Two whole ruddy weeks, and still she remains exactly where she was two weeks ago. She flips her hair back and forth, a habit she had developed a few years back to give people the impression that she was a bitch. You couldn't deny it. Straight and silky raven black hair dyed mulberry at the ends, classy black glares shielding those winter gray eyes, a little diamond poking out from the bottom of her lips as another diamond rests at the side of her nose, she instantly gives off a bad bitch vibe to anyone who doesn't know her.
Her heels click on the marble as she walks her way to the elevator, and when she steps in, half a dozen other people come walking her way and into the elevator. She sighs as the elevator takes off to the last floor of the tower and when she looks out of the glass windows she starts feeling dizzy. Shaking her head, she turns away only to be met by the sight of the three young couples chattering amongst themselves, and none of it helps her situation. She isn't acrophobic, nor is she claustrophobic, and no she doesn't have social anxiety, but the alcohol makes her want to puke all over the elevator just to get rid of these people. Nevertheless, she pulls herself together, and with another flip of her hair, she walks out of the elevator as the doors open wide.
But all class, grace, and elegance fall off as she stands at the door of her best friend, and bangs it thrice as her headache gets the best of her. The door swings open, and the frown on Omega's face slowly turns into amusement as she snorts at Sandra's appearance.
"Calm your balls, m'lady." She curtsies dramatically, and grabs an annoyed Sandra by the arm, dragging her in and slamming the door shut.
"What part of me looks like a lady to you?" She arches an eyebrow and throws herself on the couch as she shoves her heels away from her feet.
"The part of you which is desperately dripping for him."
"And what gives you the idea that any part of me is dripping for anyone, let alone desperately?" She folds her arms, eyeing her friend, clearly annoyed at the wide grin plastered across her face.
