What happens when you meet the one person you relate with the most?
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"Cydney, boo. You gotta get up." Hazel said beside me. I was already awake, I was just laying in bed not wanting to move.
My stomach had been doing flips; backflips, front flips, cartwheels and all. I couldn't stand up and walk around without feeling like I was gonna throw up.
"Still not feeling good?" She asked rubbing my back. I turned my head to face her.
I assumed it was because of the flight I'd be getting on in a few hours that was messing with my body. But then it could be the plenty of drinks I had last night with Hazel at her place.
"I feel horrible actually." I sat up in bed stretching my upper limbs before slowly throwing my legs over the sides of the bed. Any quick movements would have me throwing up a mess I wouldn't want to be cleaning up.
The flight was leaving at five AM but Big T and August wouldn't be here until three which leaves me just an hour to get ready. I was already packed so it was enough time for me.
Brushing my teeth, washing my face and getting dressed in casual attire of leggings, my black Timbs and a hoodie, I began checking for anything that I didn't want to leave behind.
"Cydney, August is calling," Hazel called out in a sing-song voice. She tossed me my phone and I answered it.
"Hey."
"You up an movin' right?" He asked.
I sighed, "Yes, Dad." That's exactly what he sounded like right now.
"Cool, cause I'm at tha do'. And call me daddy next time, turns me on."
"Never." I hung up the phone, rolling my eyes.
I slipped my phone into my hoodie pocket and went to get the door but Hazel beat me to it.
"G'moanin' Haze," he looked over her.
"Whea my baybeh at," he barged through her as I came from the hallway. His accent made my stomach flip. He greeted me with a hug and kiss on my temple. "I gotchu some waffles." he held up the Waffle House carry out tray.
"Thanks," he let go of me, keeping his arm around the small of my back. I greeted T, waving at him.
"Damn, you look like shit," he finally got a good look at me. I stale faced him and he hissed, "my bad."
"Mom. I'm about to leave," I said loud enough for her to hear me.
"What's wrong wit my lil' baybeh?" He asked lifting my head up with his index finger looking for the answers in my eyes, I suppose.
The added butterflies in my stomach when he called me baybeh once again made my stomach flutter, but not in a good way this time.
"You know how I am about planes," I stated before grabbing my bags.
