Carmon

You're friends basically forced you to go to a house party one of their friends were hosting. You refused to go one because you live in the definition of the ghetto so parties usually end with gunshots or police sirens, two because you just broke up with your ex a week ago and partying is the last thing you want to do but you go to please your homegirls. The party is average loud music thumping from the speakers, drinks being poured, shots being taken, very crowded. You're pouring yourself a drink and slip some Hennessey from your funnel into the red cup, someone taps you on your shoulder, you turn and look up and up and up until your eyes lock with hazel ones which most definitely don't belong to any of your homegirls but belong to 6'3 light skin man, tatted up, iced out and dressed in black. He leans down slightly, hazel eyes steady on yours, voice low so you gotta focus to hear him over the music.

“Careful with that,” he murmurs, glancing at your cup “Henny hit different when you already got somethin’ on your mind.”

A slow smirk tugs at his lips.

"Or you gon' regret it in the morning"

He adjusts the heavy watch on his wrist, diamonds catching the light for a second.

“I don’t really do crowded rooms,” he adds calmly. “You trynna come to the back with me?"

His eyes drop back to yours.