one shots

shorty swing my way [10]

december 1998
thursday
11:56 p.m.

Where the fuck is DeAndré?

Here I was, in yet another party, searching for my man. It was New Year's Eve, and I knew the countdown to the new year would soon take place. Hence, why I was trying to find him.

I went into the kitchen to figure out whether or not he was near the alcohol. He wasn't but Ci was, and he was getting sloppy drunk.

"Yoooo! Renée! What's up wit'cha?" he was obnoxiously loud as he greeted me.
"Hey, Ci," I smiled slightly.
"Come on and get a drink—"
"I was actually just looking for DeAndré. You know where he is?" I inquired.
"I don't know," he shrugged.

"Okay, thank—"
"Here, here. Take a cup. . . and don't forget to save me a dance," he grinned, quickly pouring me a cup of Henny and shoving it into my hands.
"Uh, thanks, Ci. I'll see you later. Oh, and slow down on the drinks," I reminded him while making my way out of the kitchen.
"I do what I want!" he simply retorted with a laugh.

I went into one of the backrooms, where I knew people would be smoking weed.

No sign of DeAndré.

I sighed, growing hot and frustrated as I pushed my way through the dancefloor and onto the front porch. I instantly regretted not grabbing my coat, but I figured that I could use a break from the humidity that occupied the space inside of the house party anyway.

I could hear people beginning to count down inside as I just kind of stood out there in the cold, my arms folded as I looked up at the stars.

Call me cliché, but I really wanted my New Year's kiss. It represented new beginnings with the one you're with. It represented optimism to keep the relationship going. It made for a really romantic scene out of some movie— with the fireworks going off in the background while he pulled me closer and held me tighter.

15. . . 14. . . 13. . . 12. . . 11. . . 10. . . 9

"Yo, shorty," I heard from behind me.
I faced the voice, being met with those amber colored eyes and the sight of his skin in the moonlight. It wasn't the tan that I was used to because we were under the moonlight (obviously) but knowing that this was the skin that clothed the heart and soul of the man I loved, I couldn't complain.

"Whatchu doin' out here? It's freez—"

8. . . 7. . . 6. . . 5. . .4

I quickly approached him as he stood in the door of the house. Within two long strides, I had my arms wrapped around him and my body pressed against his.

"Damn, Nay. I—"

My lips smashed into his. I could feel the corners of his lips curl up as I kissed him. His palms cradled my face as firecrackers popped and crackled in the sky, and suddenly, my lonely and frustrated heart was content.

Passionately, we kissed, and that's when I realized that it wasn't so cold outside, especially since he was giving me all the heat I needed. Butterflies occupied my stomach as my heart sped up its pace. All the while, he was biting and sucking on my lips ravenously, carving his initials onto my tongue over and over. I was weak in the knees, my grip on him growing tighter so I could keep myself up.

I whimpered softly as he finally pulled back. His eyes were damn near glowing when I looked into them. There was a devious smile on his face as I stood there trying to calm my rapidly beating heart.

"Let's go home," he told me, his hands sliding down my back and toward my backside.
"So soon? It's only midnight," I found myself blushing as he gripped onto my backside.
"I gave you your lil' New Year's Kiss. Are you gonna' give me what I'm a feen for, shorty?" his voice was rich and dark in tone as he stared down at me, watching me struggle to keep a moan from leaving my lips.