Hazy

We were nose to nose. Both of us breathing heavily. My skin felt as though it had been set ablaze. I inhaled. His cologne was intoxicating. He brushed a thumb across my bottom lip and gazed into my eyes intensely. I felt light-headed. I hadn’t even noticed him follow me into the bathroom.
Tasha was infamous for throwing the best parties. She was “close” with all of the popular club owners and they never had any objections when she asked to use their venues for her own personal gatherings at barely any price. At least not a price many self-respecting women would be willing to pay. But then again, who is anyone to say that Tasha had no self-respect. 
“No, Ramon! I said I wanted 50 bottles of your best champagne. Not 50 bottles of the cheap shit that nouveau riche, hip-hop artists waste by pouring on an underage hoodrat’s ass! Get me what I asked for!”
She tossed her cellular phone down on the couch and put her hands on her hips, looking flustered. She was such a drama queen. 
“I swear its like talking to a brick wall when I have to plan anything with that man.”
I continued to stare at my canvas. My blank canvas. Lately, inspiration had been hard to come by. I had hit a month long roadblock. Maybe if I sat in front of the canvas long enough, something would just happen. 
“You’re coming tonight right?”
“No. I have to paint.” I didn’t look away from the canvas.
“Paint like you’re doing now?”
I glared over my shoulder and sent imaginary knives straight for her.
“I’m just saying,” she responded when she noticed my death stare. 
“You’re always saying something. How about you shut up for once?”
I heard Tasha make a hissing noise at me as her heels clicked against my hardwood floor towards the kitchen. I went back to my canvas and back to trying to will something to happen. It was a failed attempt. I was beginning to get a headache. Closing my eyes and rubbing my temples, I got up from my stool and walked into the kitchen. Maybe I should eat something I thought. There I found Tasha picking at a bowl of grapes on the counter. 
“I’m coming to your stupid party.”
“Good. Now get dressed. We’re going shopping because I know that not a thing you own will do for this event.”

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