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𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀, 𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝟏𝟏, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝟕:𝟐𝟒𝐀𝐌
"If you wan break up, say dat shit, Dakota. Ian finna force nobody ta' luh me. Ian trippin', you see what I'm sayin'? Ima figure it out." Von expressed with a frown upon his face.
Dakota paused her motion of applying setting powder under her eyes, giving him a brief head to toe overview.
His fresh retwisted dreads slightly covered his face, complimenting his smooth brown skin that glowed from the reflection of the sunlight.
His moisturized plump lips formed a barely visible frown, accompanied by his furrowed eyebrows and squinted eyes.
On his body, he had nothing but a pair of Calvin Klein boxers on his lower half, not feeling the least bit of cold because of the central heat radiating throughout their house.
Peeling her eyes away from his body, she tapped her phone screen once to wake the phone, displaying the time.
"It's seven in the morning... it's seven in the morning!" She quoted a Tik Tok, which was nearly half of her vocabulary at this point.
She continued setting her face with the powder, ignoring the fact that he was piercing a hole through her face with his eyes.
Lately, she noticed he was experiencing mood swings that literally came out of nowhere. They started intensifying three and a half weeks ago, when she started to go to work as constant as she was going before.
He always gave her hell in the morning, but he was fine by noon, which is when he would come to her job and bring her lunch, even if she didn't need it.
So far, her therapy practice was going better than she expected it to go. She somehow picked out the best employees that made her look forward to going to work. Not to mention her assistant that literally made everything much easier for her.
"You do da' same shit erry' mornin', Dakota. Wake up and leave ma' ass hea' ta' starve and die. Das' watchu want fa' me?" He continued, beginning to approach her vanity, where she was seated.
She began spraying her makeup with setting spray to make sure it would last her until it was time for her to take it off. "All of this because I'm going to work?"
"Hell yea. It's like you sittin' in ma' face and callin' me ah bitch or broke. You know I'a give you how eva' much you ask fa'. On foenem grave I will." His tone gradually softened as he grabbed both of her hands, helping her out of her cushioned seat.
In a swift movement, he softly gripped her lower arms, wrapping them around his own body. "Stop bein' weird, ma. What I gatta do fa' you ta' stay? Eatcho pussy?"
