Is this love? { Barack Obama + Harry Styles }

5

((YESTERDAY WAS BARACKS BDAY AND POSTING THIS FELT TOO UNPATRIOTIC SO HERE YA GO))

(Playlist: Partition by Beyoncé, Crazy in Love [THE SLOW ASS REMIX!!] by Beyoncé, Talk Dirty by Jason Derulo, When You Look Me In The Eyes by The Jonas Brothers, Would You Mind by PRETTYMUCH)

The skyline stretches out expansively before my moist green orbs as I look out of my 69th story penthouse hotel window. The floor number was a coincidence, though also hopefully my fate after my date with Barack tonight.

I admired the view for a few more seconds before turning to look in my full body length mirror. I gasp, not prepared for the sexy ass motherhecker looking back at me.

Oh shit, that's just me. But daamn, do I look fiiiiiine. I definitely am dressed to impressed in an all black ensemble: black button down shirt, black blazer, crisp black dress pants, and black chunky combat boots on my feet. My hair is styled up in a swirling mass of curls, gently cascading down around my face.

My phone buzzes, interrupting my silent reverie.

A text from Barack:
H, my car is waiting downstairs. Take the back exit and you'll avoid the photographers.
xoxo, Barack

My heart skips a beat, it's time. I grab my wallet and slip out of my hotel room. Thankfully, the boys all got separate rooms so I don't have to worry about escaping their watch.

Down the hall is a set of stairs, and I scuttle down them. When I reach the ground floor, I'm panting and out of breath, but excited. I see a black limo parked in the valet section and I dash on over to it, eager to avoid making eye contact with anyone who could recognize me.

The driver comes around and opens the door for me. I nod my head in appreciation, but as I do I catch a glimpse inside.

Smooth jazz music soars from the speakers, Barack is reclined against the seat, entirely naked from the waste down.

Holy hecc. My memory did not do him justice, especially not that part of him.

"Are you going to join me?" he remarks in a deep, sultry voice.

My heart begins to race in anticipation, as I slide onto the seat next to him and pull the door shut behind me.

"Driver, roll up the partition please. I don't need you seein harry on his knees," Obama grunts.

Well, it took forty five minutes to get all dressed up, and we ain't even gonna make it to this restaurant.

(A/n: I can't write anymore of this absolute garbage. I had a whole plot planned out and everything—it was going to be v dramatic. But I can LITERALLY feel my IQ dropping every time I look at this. no shit my sat grammar score has dropped 6 points from the time I started writing until now. Maybe I'll come back at some point, but now this just isn't worth it for me anymore.

Sorry, C. ))