Page 305 of Lilah
"Not now, obviously," she shrugs.
"Not ever," I shake my head. Cats aren't my thing. All the cats I've ever been around have been little shits. Spawns of fucking satan.
"Mm, I don't think you're correct," she hums and I close my eyes, sighing internally.
Within the next year, we're probably getting a fucking cat.
She's fucking spoiled.
~~~
"What the fuck," I watch as a college male walks through the halls of Azalea's coed dorm. With a motherfucking towel around his waist.
He smirks at the new coming freshmen girls as he walks past them. I almost laugh. I almost giggle at the fuck.
"What in God's name?" Roman stops beside me, carrying some of Abby's luggage just like I'm carrying Azalea's. He snorts from beside me.
"Dude," he throws his head back, "this motherfucker."
"It'd be funny if the towel fell and everyone saw how small the fucker's dick is," I nudge Roman. He laughs harder as the guy gets closer to passing us.
"Man? Did you forget your clothes?" Roman blurts out to the guy who stops in front of us.
I bet he wears fucking polo shirts.
"Nah," he chuckles and I almost have to gag, "gotta show off a little bit."
"Show off what?" I blurt. What the fuck? I guess I'm Azalea 2.0 now. He halts his steps and turns to me, the cocky grin off his face now.
"Look, sorry you're jealous that I'm more fit than you, big guy," he gives me a shrug and I can't help but smile a little. I'm really about to giggle in this motherfucker's face.
"And plus, I've got a girl waiting for me in her room, I bet you don't," he shrugs.
Just because I'm juicy, according to Lilah, doesn't mean I'm not "fit."
"I'm a confident, strong, and independent woman."-Azalea Carson (soon hopefully Kingston) talking about things I should say to myself. Even though I'm not a woman.
And I'm glad I'm not fucking some college stranger. I'm fucking a college girl who just so happens to love the shit out of me. And I'd rather be doing that. Or her.
"Okay, buddy," Roman rolls his eyes, "run along now."
"No, I think I'll stay and talk for a bit," he says, acting like a child that doesn't want to be told what to do.
God this guy's boring as fuck to look at.
The elevator dings behind us and opens.
"Good heavens," Azalea exclaims, obviously seeing the fucker in front of us. I narrow my eyes as the guy's lips curl up into a flirty smirk.
Yeah, he better fuckingnot.
"Do you need clothes?" her sweet voice questions him. She probably thinks he's homeless. That makes me fucking smile. God, I love that woman.
"Yeah the fucker needs clothes," I nod to her and he clears his throat.
"This is a conversation between me and her, so why don't you go find your sister that you're helping move in or whatever," he tries shooing me away with his hand.
"It'd be funny if your towel fell," Azalea blurts.
