blackOUT. | 18+

1. | MARKS of a predator.

My throat was on fire.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tilted my head back as I downed a burning alcoholic beverage then slammed the shot glass on the table a few seconds later, shaking my head in disgust.

Laughter and cheers surrounded me, serving as a distraction from the heart pounding music and swarming voices around us.

I hated clubs. 

A hand landed on my shoulder, playfully shoving me to the side. I opened my eyes to glare at the brown-skinned girl sitting across the table from me and slid the bottle of vodka over to her.

"Your turn, Luna!" I shouted over the music.

"Woah, what a bad bitch!? I thought you didn't drink," my roommate quipped with a raise of her brows as she grabbed the bottle with a smirk.

"Yeah, did you actually believe that shit?" Nikita shouted as she approached us, bringing over a platter of fruits.

I glanced down at the platter and arched my brow before eyeing my best friend of four years. "Fruits, really?"

"Listen, bitch," the curly hair brunette said as she took a seat at the table. "Fruits and alcohol are a thing. You need to go out more."

"She does!" Luna shouted in between sips of vodka. "To the garage to play with her motorcycle."

The girls burst into a fit of laughter and I flicked them off before grabbing a grape from the platter. Nikita was partly right. Now at 23, I wasn't much of a party goer or anything that involved a social scene. For the most part, I couldn't stand people and hated awkward small talk with strangers.

But that was only the half of it.

I did go out most nights. I was a night owl. I found the blanket of night comforting and I yearned for the freedom of riding my Harley down an empty street. Tonight, I would've rather spent my 23rd birthday on the streets alone, caressed by the cool breezes of the night's fresh air but my best friends wouldn't allow it and I couldn't say that I blamed them. It had been a while since had any normal interactions with anyone other than them. Humans were truly pieces of shit. At least the ones I usually came across.

"Uh, Rae. Don't look but a fine ass dude has been staring at you all night," Luna said after she and Nikita had sobered up.

Curious, I started to turn my head only to be stopped by Luna's outstretched arm as the girl abruptly grabbed my wrist.

"Bitch, I literally said DON'T LOOK."

Beside me Nikita snickered, having stolen a glance behind us. "You know she doesn't do white boys."

"Girl.. Tell her again," I laughed lightly with a shake of my head, popping another grape into my mouth with my free hand as I was no longer interested in scoping out my admirer.

It's not that I wasn't into white boys. I found a lot of them easy on the eyes and good to look at, but that was it. All my life I've wanted what my parents had back when I was younger. Black love. My girls thought I was crazy for "limiting" myself, but I didn't know how to explain it. I just knew that for me, there was no point in entertaining anything else.

Luna rolled her eyes and released my hand. "Fuck the fact that he's white. That's Romero Moretti," she stressed. "If his fine rich ass was looking at me like that, I'd be on his lap in a minute." She hopped off her stool and raised her arms, circulating her wide hips sensually. "Sharing some of this culture with him."