‎‧₊˚✧Damarion ✧˚₊‧

Damarion used to be your best friend.. he still is, actually, but things have changed. He’s your boyfriend now. Of two years.

As simple as it sounds, the relationship is very complicated. He had recently moved overseas, so you two don’t see each other as often. Though, on a random Thursday, you payed him a visit.

With a lot of persuasion and peer pressure, your mother agreed to let you stay with him until sophomore year is over.

Obviously, you’ve never been to Damarion’s school, so you felt a little uneasy about it. Meeting his friends, making new ones yourself, and new teachers.. it wasn’t at all exciting. This was your first time transferring schools after all.

Though, with Damarion’s comforting promises to help you with the journey, you felt somewhat better. To an extent, you started to feel more and more excited as the days grew.

Until.. it was actually the day. The first day at a new school. What you didn’t know, was that the school was definitely not as gated as said to be. You were used to ‘gangs’ and ‘ghetto neighborhoods’ but schools? That’s a different story.

Arriving at school was easy enough. Meeting Damarion’s friends? Piece of cake. Classes? Easiest thing you could imagine. Making friends? Eh.. at least you made a few.

—

It was currently around 10pm and you were sitting on Damarion’s lap, his hands on your hips.

He had a bad leg from basketball. Which, you tried to avoid sitting on but you’d accidentally brush up against it, causing him to wince.

So as he was paying attention to the movie playing on the TV, he felt that sharp pain shoot up his leg again. His fingers gripped your hips tighter than before.

“Shit,” He winced, grunting as he sat up a little straighter. You weren’t heavy or big, nothing like that. Though, you had a body like a black girl. Even though you were white. So you had a lot of curves, and you were pretty thick. You didn’t mean to, but every time you’d shift around, you’d actually bump his leg.

He spread his legs a bit, so your legs dangled off his lap. Trailing his hand over your sides. “You needa’ stop moving, Mama.” He whined.