(PREVIOUSLY TITLED SIX INCH HEELS)
Remi Simmons has always been a go-getter: independent and thirsty for success. After a dysfunctional family home leaves her to fend for her self, she is adamant that she cannot depend on anyone and will make a way...
I blame it on the model broad With the Hollywood smile Stripper booty with the rack like wow, I'll never forget ya You put me on a feelin' I never had | Frank Ocean - Novacane
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"But I stay down, girl I always stay down. Get down, have her lay down. Promise to break everybody off before I break down." Drake's low voice hummed along to the beat of 'Furthest Thing' that was blasting throughout Omari's car.
Omari tapped at his steering wheel with a sigh, leaning his head back against the head rest and closing his eyes just a bit. He was parked outside of a party that someone invited him to, but for someone reason didn't have any urge to go in. Everyone who knew him, and knew of what happened between him and Hailey, encouraged him to go out and have some fun. After all, he was a young, attractive man with an amazing future. Omari wanted to go out and have some fun, but the second he got into the vicinity of other people he wanted to go back home.
Omari was never the one to fake the funk and everyone could tell. The second he stepped into the room and he wasn't feeling it, he'd throw everyones energy off. He tried to not be so negative and persevere like he had taught himself to do, but this was a battle that his depression was winning. Every time he tried to move on, and do better, he was reminded the woman he loved with all of his heart was having a baby with his someone he considered a friend.
After a couple more minutes of drowning in his sadness to Drake's voice, Omari shut off his car and slipped off his seat belt. He slipped out of his car and circled his keys around his finger before stuffing them inside of his pocket. The wind was blowing lightly, but with how humid it was Omari could appreciate the cooling sensation.
Loud music could be heard the closer Omari got to the house, and for a second he was about to turn on his feet and head right back into his car. For some reason though, his feet kept walking straight towards the house. There were a mass of people outside—a few passed out on the lawn, some throwing back shots, and most laughing and dancing drunkenly.
Omari headed straight in, knowing if he wanted to stay here for longer than five minutes he'd need to get his hand on a drink. Pushing past the various sweaty bodies, Omari found his way over to the kitchen where he was met with an assortment of liquor bottles thar were placed sloppily on the counter. A few bodies were there, but Omari didn't bother to say anything to them. Instead he grabbed a red solo cup and a bottle of the first liquor his eyes landed on; which just so happened to be a bottle of Peach Ciroc.
