Ass-haul
436 Words
Felicity just needed one minute.
One peaceful minute to lie to her mom.
That’s all.
She stepped away from the sticky floors and sweaty bodies inside Chezima Lounge, weaving through crowds with her phone to her ear and a lie on her lips.
“Ma, I’m at the lab. They switched our shifts—no, Ma, it’s a research emergency—fluorescent... stuff—"
But the club was LOUD. She couldn’t hear anything over the bass.
She slipped toward the emergency exit—less noise, more air, slightly sketchy. But it would do.
She was just about to deliver her next fake explanation when—
BAM.
A body slammed into her from the side like a rugby tackle in slow motion.
“YOH!” she shouted, stumbling back.
Her phone flew out of her hand and clapped the floor with the sound of pain.
Crack.
Time froze.
She bent down and picked up her iPhone like she was lifting a wounded soldier.
One look at the screen and she nearly started praying in tongues.
“No. No. Fxck. NOOO.”
Her entire screen was shattered.
Not a hairline c***k.
A crime scene.
It looked like it had been attacked by depression and student debt at once.
She looked up, ready to bark.
The guy who bumped her?
Tall. Black hoodie. Gold chain.
With the confidence of someone who’s never paid for his own bottle in a club.
He didn’t even flinch.
Didn’t check.
Didn’t ask.
He just scoffed… and kept it moving.
Like she was air.
“EXCUSE ME?!” Felicity shouted, storming after him.
She tapped his shoulder—hard. He turned slowly, looking mildly irritated.
She could smell cologne and ego.
“You cracked my phone ,” she snapped. “And just walked past me.”
“You shouldn’t stand in walkways,” he said, completely unbothered.
Felicity blinked.
Twice.
“You broke my iPhone, and you’re telling me I was wrong?”
“I didn’t see you.”
“As big as I am? So what must happen now?”
“Move smarter next time.”
Her jaw dropped.
The nerve.
“Wow. You’re actually serious?”
“It’s just a phone, bruh. Relax.”
That was it. That was her 13th reason.
“fxck you and fxck this,” she muttered, turning around before she screamed or committed violence.
She didn’t wait for him to respond.
She didn’t care who he was or thought he was.
She stormed out of the club, phone in hand, rage in her blood, muttering to herself. She needed some air before she could explode
- Writer
