𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

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Mami, qué tú quiereeeeeee?

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Mami, qué tú quiereeeeeee?

"AQUÍ LLEGÓ TU TIBURÓN!"

Miko and Paloma grinded together in the crowded guest house. People danced in pairs around them, whether friends, lovers, or exes. Their bodies looked blue from the lights of the LED, and the smell of alcohol was strong in the home. Miko leaned into her neck, brushed her raven hair out of the way, and whispered something sweet in her ear. 

"Girl, you look like Dr. Doom." Francesca sighed, leaning beside Melina on the wall. Watching them all night, she gripped her solo cup and swapped out with water a bit too tightly.

She watched as Paloma leaned in closer, her lips brushing gently on Miko's ear to say something back with a sly smile.

"Let's just gooo. It's getting late," Francesca said, keeping a paranoid eye out for Gabriela. Then suddenly yanked off the wall. "-AHCK!"

Melina dragged her reluctant friend onto the tight dance floor, bumping shoulders with people. Dragged like a ragdoll, Francesca groaned out loud. Between their little feud, she was now collateral damage.

Melina brought her drink to her lips and slyly looked over to Paloma and Miko. The pair had motioned their way elsewhere in the waves of people. Seeing the back of Miko's bleached hair, she pulled Francesca towards them, and the custom designer felt dizzy from the merry-go-round. Melina turned her back to Francesca and grinded her body back on her.

The actress looked over once more and saw that Paloma's back was turned. Her legs were entangled with Miko's as they grinded. Then, Miko's slender hand cupped her face and kissed Paloma in the middle of the crowd.

Turning cold, Melina stood up straight and stopped dancing, accidentally elbowing Francesca who was in the zone, grinding behind her.  "Ow. What's wrong??"

"Nothing! Fuck this..." Melina disappeared out of the crowd, leaving Francesca alone in the tide of partygoers.

"Mel?! Don't leave me hanging!"

The urge to do a handstand overcame her. Screw it, she'll dance alone. Before she knew it, her legs were up in the air, and her ginger curls fell crazily by her hands. Someone behind her grabbed her legs and danced with her instead.

Melina reached the kitchen and opened the fridge. Fran told her no more alcohol for the night, but fuck it. There were cold, refreshing Coronas lined up everywhere, but she wanted something stronger. She closed the fridge and looked out on the kitchen counter. Her eyes fell on the half-empty bottle of Don Q, and the sound of a jackpot rang in her ears.

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 (bad bunny) 🐰Where stories live. Discover now