𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑦

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐍

-

I don't like this chapter so y'all probably won't either but shit, here y'all go.

I shot up out of my sleep, sweat dripping down my face and arms.

"Baby, you okay?" Dior asked worriedly as she came around to my side of the bed.

I scooted back from her a little bit and she frowned. "What's wrong?" She asked.

"Nothing. I just need a minute." I muttered.

I don't usually have nightmares or dreams so this one caught me off guard. It had me questioning everything between Dior and me. Was she capable of some shit like that? Would she ever do some shit like that? Do I even want to stick around long enough to find out?

"Do you wanna' talk about it?" She asked, playing with her fingers.

"No, not really," I answered dryly.

"Okay, Draco." She huffed and climbed back into her spot on the bed.

A couple of minutes passed before she huffed again and grabbed the spare blanket and pillows out of the closet. "I'm sleeping on the couch." She said before walking out of the room and slamming the door.

I don't understand what her problem was. If a nigga needs space then a nigga needs space, she needs to get the fuck out of her feelings but I wasn't about to trip over it.

I pulled the comforter back and laid down with my eyes closed. "I miss my fucking baby already." I sighed as I soon let sleep take me over.

-

"Yeah, girl I'm sick of his dyke ass." Dior grumbled on the phone as she busted in the room and went into the closet, waking me up in the process.

"I'm gone kill this girl," I whispered to myself before snatching the covers off of me and walking to the closet.

She looked up at me with a mug on her face. "Yeah, girl I'm looking at his ugly ass right now." She spoke to whoever was on the phone.

"Fuck you looking at circus monkey? You got something you would like to share with the class?" She asked, looking at me sideways.

"Bi— Give me this fucking phone." I snatched her phone and looked at it seeing that it was Paris on the other line.

I put the phone to my ear. "Fuck you," I spoke.

She laughed hard as fuck as if something was funny. "What I do to you, mad ass?" She asked.

"You was seriously about to let my girl call herself leaving me?" I asked while staring at the clothes and the suitcase Dior had laid out in front of her.

"No. It was her idea and I told her dumb ass not to but she was down there ugly crying and shit before she came to the irrational decisions that she was gone leave you, move to Mexico, and never come back." She explained while trying to hold in her coughs from laughing so much. If Dior didn't wake me up from my sleep for this bullshit I'd probably be laughing too.