⚠️ mentions of drugs/drug use/addiction. This is a chapter in which absolutely nothing happens, and I apologise for it ! ⚠️
'What's this? Isn't it a bit too big to be your peen?' I speak, brows still furrowed, pointing at the mysterious thing bulging in his pocket. And I can't hold back a giggle, when I realise that he's laughing behind a cloud of smoke because I've just called him out for being a small peepee owner. He's probably got a surprise for me in his pocket, and that surprise ain't his delicious man sausage. It's something else I can't figure out for the life of me, and I'm torn between being confused by his sudden urge for me to slide my hand into his pocket, and anticipating to find out what he's got in store for me. You know, Sean works in mysterious ways. There's that element of insanity and unpredictability in him that just drives me fucking insane... and when I say it, I mean it in the most positive way there is. He could make plans to take over the world with his evil, sarcastic charms, and you wouldn't be able to tell that he's plotting something. On top of that, he's shown me that he is a bit of a clumsy, adorable little romantic. And I love that part of him, because it doesn't come through 24/7. But when it comes through, it makes my heart happy like nothing else in the world. He loves to surprise me with special effects when I'm expecting it the least ... and now, instead of doing the normal, average sweet lovergirl who's eager to find out about his little surprise, I'm slandering him over his peepee scarcity. I'm telling him that the print of what's in his pocket is bigger than his dick print, when the thing is up and tenting in his ugly fucking shorts. And although I'm lying, clowning and cocking an attitude on him just for the fun of it, he's laughing his ass off at my sarcastic taunt. I've just made mr. Sarcasm personified laugh, his cheeks are plumping, he's showing me his perfectly even, orthodontically enhanced smile... and we would be kissing now, kissing like fucking silly teenage lovebirds, if I wasn't mad at him. But I'm mad at him. And the fact that we've having a laugh together is a huge step ahead for me already.
Hell... the jokes about his lack of inches never fail to crack us up. Not even when I'm mad at him and he's being hundred percent apologetic to me. I was today years old, when I realised that jokes about his lack of inches can be a perfect getaway for when things between us start to feel awkward. And I will use this new weapon in my arsenal in my favour, from tonight on.
'Just put your hand in there and ruin my dignity? Quick and pain free?' He urges me to, pointing at the oddly shaped, mysterious, bulging thing in his pocket. And I laugh, because all of a sudden, he's addressing me with the same voice you'd use to address your pet. Y'know, the cutesie tone that makes 'em pups go putty. I'm not a pup, I'm just a future pup doctor... but let me tell you, I'm putty for him nonetheless. The moment he litters the butt of his joint, puts my hand well above his bulging pocket and gives me the smooch face... I melt. And I hope he has a spoon, not for heroin cooking purposes, but because he's gonna have to pick me up from the floor if we keep this plaything going. Yes, I'm mad at him. But does the thing hold me back from loving him? Not really.
He talks about his dignity... but wanna talk about mine? I can't even stay mad at him, that he chases me like crazy and makes me feel almost sorry for the way I've handled him all night long. When we all know he's the only one who would legitimately have to feel sorry for the way he's handled me for days in a row. My dignity is in shambles, but his seems to be the closest to intact as it gets. And it wouldn't change, if I was to put my hand in his pocket and reveal his little surprise for me. Me? Cherry? Ruining the dignity of a six feet something tall guy who could commit murder and get away with it by clowning around? Me... Tori? Wannabe groupie from no man's land, ruining the dignity of a guy who plays the drums in a band that's blowing up big time, and who could have pretty much any chick in this club with a snap of a finger? No fucking way I could ever.
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DIRT: the grunge diaries (𝒱𝒾𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝒶'𝓈 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃)
Short Storyهذا هو كتاب أسراري ! 🍒 '𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙣𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙨. 𝙄 𝙖𝙢 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙣 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠. 𝘼𝙣 𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙣 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨'. 🍒 the year is 1992. the place is Seattle. the flavour of the day is grunge. ...