"Look who it is? Let me guess, Mister four inches probably spent his allowance money on drugs, again, resulting in you two arguing, and thus you landing on my doorstep, waiting for me to let you in so you can steal a tub of my Oreo ice cream."

I smiled wickedly, holding a package tightly to my chest.

"OR, I could have decided I wanted to see my one and only best friend, who loves me to the moon and back, and would kindly spare ONE of her twelve tubs of Oreo ice cream for this kind, beloved soul. And it wasn't on drugs; he spent it all at a strip club while drunk." I argued, rolling my eyes in ignorance. She laughed, stepping aside to allow me to enter.

"Scarlet babe, what would I do without your craziness?"

"You'd cry in misery, praying to the heavens to find you a best friend that can handle your savage, multi-personality self while stay alive longer than three months." I praised.

"C'mon, all my friends don't die or disappear in three months." She argued.

I dropped the box on her countertop table before turning around to face the blonde chick; my hands landed on my hips as I raised an eyebrow at her declaration.

She groaned, rolling her eyes as her arms crossed over her chest.

"The last one vanished after ninety-ONE days! That's a new record! You have to acknowledge that!" She nagged.

"I may have a four-inch, alcoholic, druggie boyfriend who I somehow can't ditch out of pity and his disappointing sex game, but you my bestie, have a problem. I swear, either your six-foot seven inch bodyguard of a boyfriend is a part of the mafia, OR I'll be damned. The heavens have something against you having friends. I'm actually impressed I've lasted this long in your life. Is a lightning bolt going to fall from the sky and kill me for surpassing the limit?"

I seriously questioned how I wasn't dead yet. I don't know what curse had been placed on my best friend, Cece Alexandra Rose, but it had chased girls and boys away for who knows how long.

I'd known her for five years now and had surprisingly lived to tell the tale. Everyone else, beside her gigantic boyfriend and close family, would face the wrath of death or go missing in ninety...ninety-ONE days or less. Trust me when I say, no one even thought of sitting less than ten inches near her in class, let alone walk past her in fear of death knocking on their door.

"It's not my fault they die, alright? Maybe the heavens don't want me dealing with annoying, drama-inducing individuals who'd be lucky enough to outsmart me. See, you're smart, you mind your own business, and you’re friendly, like me." I shook my head at her statement, reaching out for the kitchen knife with the intentions of opening the brown box before me.

"You forgot to add the hint of craziness, the alter ego of yours, and OH, that skill you have – you know, appearing out of fucking nowhere when someone mentions your name. I swear you've spooked the living daylights out of the professors on campus countless times. That skill simply baffles me." I emphasized, sliding the knife through the tape.

"Admit it, my random skill of appearing when I'm summoned has saved your ass a few times when you fainted…hold on." She started before stopping to pull out her phone.

I groaned, lifting my head up to the ceiling, praying she'd stop reminding me of my current, number one flaw.

"Here it is, fifty-seven times." She finished, smiling at me in satisfaction.

"I sometimes question why we're best friends." I retorted.

Her eyes landed on the box before she crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at me.

"For the love of fashion, PLEASE do not tell me those are gloves."

I smiled, slowly opening the box to reveal the securely packaged contents. You've never experienced happiness until you've opened a box that solved many problems at once; my main problem was related to my fainting spells. I had more than fifty pairs, this box adding to my collection. Of course, I needed Cece to see them first before I began using them to their full potential.

I unwrapped the paper packaging, pulling out the pink set of fingerless, arm length gloves; my fingers rubbed the soft material.

"Don't hate these beauties. Look at this material!! I can wear these all day and not even get a rash! O.M.G they’re water resistant! OH, I need to search if they’re blood resistant! That would be so helpful."

"Yup, I wonder why the heavens haven't killed you off yet?"

"UM hello, someone has to help you finish your massive ice cream collection. Which reminds me." I placed the gloves back into the box, taking a second to enjoy the smooth, fake fur material before making my way to the fridge.

I pulled opened the freezer handle, revealing stacks of Oreo Cookie ice cream. I pull out an unopened tub, letting go of the handle so it closes as I walk to the kitchen counter and tug the drawer open to kidnap a spoon.

I opened the lid and threw it in the garbage bin a few feet away from me. I pulled at the clear sealing, opening it with little effort. The addictive scent brushed against my nose as I readied my spoon.

"I dare you to take a spoonful of that."

I practically jumped; my best friend who had been standing in the middle of the living room was now next to me, without making a sound.

"Baby Jesus, how the fuck do you do that? I didn't even hear you!" I yelled. She smiled wickedly, taking the spoon out of my hand. She took a fat spoonful of my ice cream, putting it in her mouth.

"HEY! That's my ice cream! You have eleven more tubs of it!"

"Don't get distracted next time then." She giggled, spinning around to walk to the fridge, opening the freezer door to grab her own tub.

She turned around to face me; her blonde hair falling into place.

"Now that we have some much-needed ice cream, Spill."

"Go home, grab that sexy outfit you bought last week and make sure you wear red lipstick, NOT pink. We're going for sexy, fierce, and this bitch wants to get laid look. You understand, Scar."

I groaned, slipping my black, arm length gloves on, followed by my brown glasses. I turned to face my best friend.

"I don't need to get laid. I have a boyfriend, remember?" I reminded her.

"Oh please. That sorry excuse of a penis! Like, seriously, do you pretend to climax just so you can use little Jimmy? You know, the vibrator in your bottom left drawer hidden, between your stolen graduation gown and LET'S BE FRIENDS photo album. I should say, it's a really good hiding spot. Jake would never guess it's there. With the way you argue, I bet you use that bad boy every other day." She revealed.

I stared at her wide eyed; my jaw dropped at her statement.

"How the hell do you know about Jimmy? I hid him perfectly!!!" I demanded, feeling my cheeks flush.

"Remember the time you got so utterly wasted and you were horny and –" She purred before I raised my hands up.

"STOP! No more. Enough. I don't want to even know about my drunk adventures. I'm leaving. Don't tell anyone about Jimmy. He's my little secret!"

"Our not so little secret, Scar."

"Ugh, I'll be ready in an hour!"

"Alright bestie, pick you up in an hour. Remember! SEXY! FIERCE, SEX –"

I slammed the door shut, cutting off her farewell announcement. The neighbor next door glanced my way. She smiled, giving me a wink before walking away. Damn you, Cece...

I walked out of the steamy hot bathroom. It felt nice to go from the intense heat to the chill of my air conditioned flat. I made my way to my room. I quickly and subconsciously keyed in the lock code, listening for the ping noise before turning the crystal knob. Only I was allowed to lock up my sanctuary. I couldn't deal with Jake touching my stuff, leaving unnecessary memories behind.

Installing a lock with a two-step authentication was the best decision I made since going to Cancun for my twentieth birthday; the trip that pushed me into meeting my one and only best friend.

All it took was a few drinks, an hour of sweaty dancing and me tripping and falling into her arms by accident. Cece always seemed to appear when I was in a pinch. Our meeting wasn't any different. After my collision with her that night, I didn’t expect her to bail me out of the sticky situation I’d landed myself in – the potential fight with those three bitches who’d backed me into a corner, wanting to prove their worth. Thanks to her, I came out of that epic party with a hangover, broken cell phone, zero bruises and still had my panties on. I still question where my red, lace bra went off to...who knows.

R.I.P my favorite bra of 5027. You accomplished your duty to the very last unhooking. I'll always remember you.

I walked into my little paradise, closing the door behind me. Jake was in the living room, watching another football game while drinking his third beer. By the time I would come back tonight, he'd be knocked out on the couch or in the second bedroom, aka OUR bedroom.

It was annoying to explain why we had two bedrooms. It's not like it was anyone's business. I needed Jake’s friends to be as cool as Cece. She never asked stupid questions like "Why do you guys sleep in separate rooms when you’re dating?”  

Well, I don't know, Sherlock. Maybe if your boyfriend was an alcoholic who smelled of whiskey and vomit half the time, you'd want your own space too. Did I mention he likes to touch my stuff? I'd like to avoid passing out every five seconds from touching all my belongings thank you very much.

I guess I should explain about the whole "fainting" ordeal. I was born with this terrible gift called ‘Foresight.’ Apparently, it's been in my family for generations, only appearing in the female kin every now and again. I was chosen to be that lucky person.

When I touch an object, it can reveal its dark secrets to me.

All I can say is ninety percent of the time, I pass out. If I do stay conscious for the duration of the vision, I'm usually in a trance like state, staring into nothingness till I finally come out of it. Then, I have to quickly jot down the vision before the immense amount of details vanish from my mind and the vision feels more like a foggy dream.

Maybe my fifteen years of experience in scribbling my visions and images down contributed to my A-list art skills? Now, it took me no time to draw a masterpiece. If only convincing my aunt to accept my wish to be a criminology student would've been that easy. It took me ages for her to accept, that I declined my direct invitation from the CEO of the Royal College of Art in the UK. Someone must have sent him a picture of my art during my senior year in high school, resulting in the gorgeous black envelope with a gold seal on the back to landing in my aunt's mailbox.

Don't get me wrong, I love art and design, but I could never devote myself to my hobby. In the beginning, it only served as a coping mechanism for understanding the visions that attacked me, not for pleasure or enjoyment. But as time went on and I matured, I yearned to draw the visions I witnessed and for the pleasure of projecting beautiful imagery. It’s what lead to me being the artist I am today.

Either way, I was five when my gift took a chaotic turn and became really problematic for my life. Not to mention my mother's murder that same year.

I had to admit, my childhood was a lonesome one. It’s not like I didn’t want a friend or two, or to get the chance to be a part of a group of kids that loved the same shows as me. It was because I was different from everyone around me, and let’s be real – no one liked different.

From the whispers that reached my ears as I walked the halls, to the paper notes that hit my head during class and the words – weirdo and loser written inside the colored pieces of scrap paper.

The bullying got worse after that: The laughter and fingers pointed in my direction to the exclusion in group projects. Or better yet, the last one to be chosen during dodge ball; both teams begged the teachers to let me sit it out instead of being on their team.

You’d expect the teachers to be an advocate for innocent me. Nope – instead, they feared me as well. Maybe even contributed to my suffering. I saw the way they looked at me or flinched when I stood too close. All I had was Auntie Nela and Kendrick.

I didn’t want to bother either of them. Auntie Nela was not a part of my family, her memories and bond with my Mother drifting away as the years went on. She too moved on to focus on her life.

This left me with Kendrick; who had helped keep me occupied. Kickboxing was a form of release – to let out the pent-up frustration and anger that coursed through me when I couldn’t handle the bullying any longer. It had helped people stay away from me, not just because of my visions, but knowing I’d kick their asses if they tried to touch me.

Although Kendrick was loving behind closed doors, he always had to keep it hidden. For the sake of Marilyn's name, and to silence the rumors of him cheating with Mother, he couldn’t show compassion when we were in public together.

I knew he cared dearly for my mom, and I didn’t believe false accusations. But with a dad like mine, it was an assumption many would believe.

I’d come to terms with reality in my teens, going through high school with my passion to draw, my kickboxing classes, and other activities that would help me with my career goal. I accepted that my visions were a part of me, and if that meant I wouldn’t be accepted, so be it.

University was no different. Thankfully Cece, being the best friend that she was, suggested I wear my gloves to hinder me from having direct contact with an item or person –  my palm being the leading cause of my induced visions. I always gave her my stock of gloves, and she’d sprinkle some voodoo magic stuff she had bought from eBay and BAM, they’d work like a fucking charm. I totally believed the heavens felt sorry for my twenty years of chaos and brought Cece to help me enjoy life a little.

Cece warned me to wear my gloves on the first day of school, but NOOO, I wanted to be the cool girl and not have to wear my gloves in thirty-degree Celsius weather. That went downhill in less than ten minutes. Brad from Kinesiology just had to bump into me the day after his sister's funeral. I hoped he was happy that I was now a laughing stock thanks to him. After that, I was known as the hot, fainting girl of Mc. Ryerson’s School of Criminology and Special Ops.

I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the memories. Yes, my childhood, teen years, and bits of my adult years sucked, but the times spent with my best friend were enough to stop me from my self-pity party. When we chilled together, I knew we'd get wrecked and that was something I needed. To party hard and feel free as I enjoyed the blissfulness of adulthood with someone who understood me.

I let go of the towel, allowing it to fall to the ground as I made my way to my dresser. I pulled at the wrapped towel in my hair, undoing its secure hold. My neon orange locks dropped messily down my back, clinging to my skin.

I pulled open the drawer, revealing the rows of bras on one-half of the drawer and matching underwear on the other side in color formation. I was still trying to convince Cece that I didn't have OCD. I just liked my clothing, especially my undergarments, to be arranged by color and material type. It wasn't a big enough deal to accuse me of having a disorder.

"Hmmm, what sexy lingerie should I wear to impress me today?" I sang; my finger slid down my collection as I swung my hips.

I need comfortable undies that don't ride up my butt tonight. Especially if we're dancing. Oh God, I'd love to go pole dancing again. That was fun.

My finger stopped at the dark red bra. I pulled it out, analyzing the black lace design; jewels spread across the top half. It had a black bow in the middle with a heart shaped diamond. I smiled wickedly, tugging out the matching panties. This shall do.

I slipped them on with ease, checking the mirror while shaking my butt. The panties fit like a glove, not moving an inch as I shook my waist. Damn, I can twerk in these and they would stay in place.

Being only five-six, I made sure to wear my three-inch heels to give me a five-nine look.

My curves matched my height; although, my five days a week gym sessions with my trainer had contributed to my perfect athletic build. My six-pack made an appearance, seeing as I'd had little to eat today. I was most proud of my round, lifted booty. The amount of weighted squats and lunges I had to complete to get this butt was a pain in the…well, pain in the fucking ass, but damn – she was a show stopper.

My eyes landed on the large tattoo on my back; the multiple swirls and knots spread outward. The silhouetted woman in the middle of a puddle, frozen in a dance, as different colored lines wrapped around her arms, all meeting in her chest, directly into her heart.

Surrounding her were eight different orbs; each a different color that represented a specific element – fire, ice, water, wind, earth, light, darkness, spirit.

Whenever I went to the beach, everyone assumed it was a tattoo, receiving multiple compliments on the intricate design. They had no idea that the apparent tattoo was a birthmark, changing and growing in shape as I grew. It had been a mere droplet falling into the puddle when I was a baby. Now, it was this beautiful masterpiece.

Any normal person would freak out and go to every skin doctor they could find to solve this mystery, but with how crazy my family history was and my gift… having a growing tattoo on my back was the least of my concerns. At least it was beautiful.

I walked over to my walk-in closet, pulling the doors open to reveal racks of clothes. It had been a struggle to find a flat with this beauty; its interior large enough to hold the large amount of clothes Cece loved to spoil me with. If I didn't get a new outfit in two weeks or less, something must be wrong.

I reached for the third, rose gold hanger on my right, revealing the outfit I'd bought a few days ago when my bestie and I raided the mall near our campus. I bet the multiple outlet stores knew us by name thanks to our shopping addiction.

I slipped on the glittering one piece; the rose gold dress sparkled as my nearby lamp shone against its reflective material. The dress hugged my body, showing every curve and stopping right below my butt. I made sure to try it on in the store, wanting to avoid the struggle of dresses riding up as you attempted to dance the night away. Once I had a few shots in me, it wouldn't matter. I'd be perfectly fine being naked.

I had a serious obsession with the pinkish gold color lately. It had become one of the new trends, and I was fully enjoying all my recent purchases. Seeing as my dress was attention central, I decided to be simple in the jewelry department. Simple diamond earrings, a few rose gold bracelets, and my mother's locket which I wore at all times.

I'd gotten the little trinket from my mother, wearing the little trinket around my neck and changing the chain over the years as I grew. I wondered if my mom knew I'd grow to have an obsession with rose gold; the locket being that exact color. A beautiful engraved design of vines and petals surrounded the surface. The same image displayed across my back was engraved on the back of the locket.

Either the markings were also part of the family trait or my mom had somehow known the image would be a part of me. Now that she was gone from this world, this was my good luck charm – my protection. I always wore it, remembering the last words she told me the night before she was murdered.

"Always wear this around your neck Scarlet. It will protect you from any bad people."

"Why mama? I have you, Auntie Nela and Moonlight. What will my locket do?"

"It's very powerful and hides you from the bad people. Only take it off if your life depends on it. Understood?"

The little, curly, orange-headed me nodded, confused by what she meant. Who knew I'd never get the opportunity to ask her again.

I sighed, walking to my vanity to start my hair and makeup. I looked at myself in the mirror.

My eyes were a mixture of blue and green. They even had a hint of grey in them when the light shone on my iris. My lips were smooth and full; the leftover tint of my previous pink lipstick remained on their plump surface.

My wet, orange hair reached just past my shoulders. I decided to grow it out after going through one of those I need short hair phases, regretting the decision instantly as the pair of scissors started working their magic. Never again.

I gave Cece permission to slap me if I suddenly had another urge to cut my hair again. Long hair was more fun to play with. Not to mention, it was a turn on when a guy grabbed your hair to kiss or fuck you. Too bad I never got that kind of action.

Little Jimmy was my bedroom friend for four out of the five years I’d been with Jake. Five, agonizing years of disappointing sex. I really did need to get laid by someone else. If it wasn't for my morals, I'd be jumping on the first, hot man my eyes landed on in the club. Maybe if I had a few drinks, such ambitions would fade away, and my needy body would get her way.

It took me fifteen minutes before I was rated as sexy, fierce, and I'd fuck any hot guy who can keep a ten-minute conversation with me. If only my guilty conscience would let me fulfill the last part. That part of my mind always told me to be the good girl and loyal to Jake. Maybe I should just gather the courage and break up with him. Then, I wouldn’t need to feel ashamed of such thoughts.

My hair was in curls, bouncing lightly as I whipped my hair back and forth to assess my handy work. I wore my contacts, putting my glasses away. The cream colored heels I slipped on added height and made me look model-worthy. I walked up to the mirror, pulling out the bright red Anastasia Beverly lipstick from my Louis Vuitton Nano Speedy. I wasn't into many brands, but Cece knew them all; LV being one of her favorites. I applied the liquid slowly, allowing the applicator to glide over my lips, making sure it was absolutely perfect. Once finished, I stepped back to take a look at the final product.

Yes, I looked smoking hot. The struggle will be to not get laid tonight with this look. Too bad I have no choice. Don't be an idiot like me and stay with a man who you've fallen out of love with. No wonder people cheat all the time. All I needed was the motivation to dump him.

My phone began to ring; the music box sound alerted me that Cece was probably downstairs with her bodyguard boyfriend.

I shoved my phone, wallet, and lipstick in my bag, rushing to the door before I remembered my gloves. I rushed back to my dresser, pulling out my "elegant" pair of gloves. I slid the thin, silk, fingerless gloves on, the kind that ended at the edge of my palm. The white color would have to do, seeing as I was still waiting for my custom LV print ones that Cece apparently ordered for me. I don't know what connections she had, but to get the company to make me designer gloves which would be one of a kind, warmed my heart. I loved her for all she did for me.

The nights when I was plagued with nightmares, days before my mom’s death anniversary, she’d always let me stay at her place. Every time a scream would escape me as I gasped for breath, she’d be there to console me in the wee hours of the morning, soothing me back to sleep.

Even when we first met, she had come to my aid – my back pressed against the wall as three past classmates surrounded me in the corner of the club’s alleyway. I knew I was outnumbered and wouldn’t come out of the fight without a black eye, but I wasn’t going to back down to those bullies. Cece appeared at that very moment, causing quite the scene.

Let’s just say my face was spared. Till this day, those bullies were still getting plastic surgery to fix the chaos that occurred. My phone began to ring again; the sound muffled thanks to my purse. I cursed, rushing out my room, pressing the button to lock the door. Cece hates waiting. The red, flashing light informed me that my room was now securely locked.

I walked towards the living room; my heels clicked and clacked against the black tiled floors.

It only took me two steps before I heard the TV pause; the sound of cheering from the current football game came to a halt. I closed my eyes, preparing my mind for the possible argument that would come.

"Scar? Where are you going looking...well, looking so fucking hot?"

I turned to face Jake, my boyfriend, as I forced myself not to allow my hand to run through my hair in fear of loosening the tight curls that I worked so hard on perfecting.

"I'm going out with Cece and her lover." I answered. He stood, the remaining crumbs from the empty bag of Cheetos fell to the floor. I'd totally have to clean that later. I just hoped Moonlight didn't try to lick it.

"You didn't tell me you were going out. I can come with–"

"Nope. You're not coming. Remember LAST time we went with you to the club."

"Scarlet, it wasn't that bad."

"Uh huh. Not bad? It was HORRIBLE, Jake! Not only did I have to pay for an Uber to bring your ass home, I tipped the driver an extra hundred bucks to drag your ass up five flights of stairs, since the elevator was broken, and leave your drunk ass on the doorstep. Then our kind, adorable neighbor got the spare key and dragged your ass inside, so you wouldn't disturb the neighbors with your out of this world snoring. I bet you could even wake the dead with how loud you snore when you're drunk." I ranted. My hand rose up to brush through my hair before I remembered, stopping mid-way.

"I thought I got home on my own..." He mumbled.

I simply stared back at him; my foot tapped against the floor. I wasted precious time here with Mr. Sensitive. It was times like these, he understood how lucky he was to have someone as hot and committed as me.

After my mother's passing and my father's disappearance, I was entitled to all my mother's businesses and investments. Not to mention the five hundred grand from two insurance companies for accidental death – murder fell into that category. I could have easily afforded a luxurious condo in the middle of the busy downtown area, but I knew how fast money could fly out of your hand and the struggle it was to make it. If only Jake understood those principles.

Now that he was unemployed, he bummed around my apartment which we "shared" and picked up construction work once in a while, which they paid him for under the table. If only he'd sober up long enough to get his ass up and work.

I wouldn't rank myself as successful, but at the age of twenty-five. I was in my final year of school for Criminology, aiming to get into the top criminal investigation agency in the world – Paranormal INC.

It was every investigator's dream to land a position in that organization. The pay was good, the work was mind boggling and solving a case was satisfying as your name and image were plastered on news magazines and other publications when the case was solved.

"Jake, I have to go. Cece's waiting downstairs. You know how much she hates when you delay me."

"Scar do you have to? Can't we just hang out here and watch the game?" He whined.

"I hate football and no. I have finals coming up, and I’m going to be assigned a criminal case in two days. I need this, Jake. I'll be perfectly fine and drink responsibly. I'll be home before three am, alright?" I didn't have time to argue. I was ready to move when he walked forward, stopping in front of me.

"Okay. Uh, call me if you need me to come pick you up or anything." He whispered, leaning to kiss me. I turned my head; his lips landed on my cheek. I pulled away with a smile before making my way to the door, grabbing my keys. I didn't want his chapped lips ruining my makeup, or the stale stench of beer and the last two days without a shower lingering on me.

"MEOW"

I looked down to my little cat; his blue eyes gazed up at me. I knelt, petting his soft, black fur.

"Don't worry Moonlight, I'll be back soon. Make sure Jake doesn't burn down the house, okay?" I mused as he purred; his tail brushed my bare legs.

"It was an accident you know." Jake pointed out.

I looked over my shoulder to glare at him.

"Accident? Margaret, my lovely neighbor came to the rescue to put out the fire. You still owe me a thousand bucks for the repairs and calling the fire department to ensure everyone's safety in the building." I snarled.

He flinched, frowning before he walked back to the couch.

"Have fun." He sat back down, grabbing the remote next to him to put the game back on; the cheers roared through the flat screen TV.

That’s right, pretend you didn't hear me mention the money you've owed me for two years. I know you'll totally pay me back one day. Hah, who am I kidding? I'll be lucky to get enough change for Starbucks...no, Dunkin Donuts dollar coffee.

My phone vibrated; the loud ringtone blared out of my purse. I cursed, rushing out the door. Please don't lecture me!

I sprinted out of the elevator the moment the doors began to open, almost crashing into the couple walking towards me.

"Late, as usual, Scarlet?"

"YES, Alfred! I'll be back in the early hours! Make sure my apartment doesn't burn down!" I yelled as I rushed past the entrance desk. Alfred the apartment attendant relaxed in his leather seat; his black suit made him look hella attractive this evening, even without any alcohol in my system. You know you need to get laid when you think your forty-year-old attendant looks smoking hot.

"Will do. Enjoy the evening, Ms. Sinclair."

I smiled, waving as I pushed against the rotating doors. Alfred had become like a guardian angel. The number of times he'd carried my wasted butt to my apartment, making sure Margaret was present when he tucked me into my shared bedroom, needing a witness to ensure that was all he did.

All the times he'd done so, Jake had been out doing his own partying; the apartment had been left with Moonlight sitting patiently at the edge of the bed to guard me against any intruders. Bless them for being in my life. With barely any family, having one best friend, a useless boyfriend, and Kendrick, I didn't have anyone to really rely on. They helped fill that void.

I turned; the flight of stairs that headed to the main side walk came into view. I skipped down the stairs, landing lightly on my feet as I reached the bottom, before turning to my right; a stunning blonde in an eye catching black, glitter dress glared at me. Her arms were crossed as her shiny, black heels tapped against the cement, impatiently. Aww fuck.

I ran towards her, giving my best please don't murder me smile. I glanced at the black limo parked next to her; the side lights turned on as the sun began its descent.

"Really? A limo? Where are we going tonight and don't give me that look! It was Jake's fault. You know he always tries to convince me to not go out with you when I look like a runway model, ready to hop on someone's lap and work my magic." I whined, blinking my eyes.

She rolled her eyes but outstretched her arms. I squealed before hugging her.

"You can live another day. We're running late, let's go. The venue opens in thirty minutes and we have reservations. I doubt they'll try to give away our VIP spots. I used my lover's name hehe." She confessed before giggling I smirked at her.

"You sly devil, and VIP? Oh hell, woman get your sexy ass in the car! Also, I brought my new phone. Can we take like, a billion pictures? Maybe I'll land a selfie with a hot guy to change my cat lock screen picture." I side bumped her with my booty, prompting her to get her ass moving. She laughed, the sound soft and gentle to my ears.

"I'll make sure to get a professional picture of you and the first guy you fall head over heels for. I'll even attempt to get his contact info for you, so you can sext each other." She retorted.

"I don't think Jake would like me flirting." I laughed; my body tingled with excitement at potentially sexting someone. I seriously missed the single life.

"Fuck Jake. He can stroke his little weenie. You need a long rod to ride on. C'mon bestie, time to find you a playmate."