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The Story of Naomi and Dylan- Chapter 1
-Naomi-
I’m what you would call the mid summer nights dream of this relationship, kind of up and down, as well as funky in every which way.
You’d think by now the sound of a Kickstart being opened, the music of punk and rock combined, the sweet smell of fucking lavender with leather... that all of those would drift my thoughts away from her.
Unfortunately, it didn’t.
Every night, I do wonder what she’s doing, where she is, why she is gone and maybe who she is dating. I hug every thought, every flannel, and every last scent of her that I can find tight as a vice. I understand this is unhealthy, but the breakup still settles on my heart like a rock. Yet, it was so long ago.
I’m just plain Naomi without her. Who is plain Naomi? Plain Naomi is a Naomi that was alive prior to her, the one that I just can’t stop thinking of, the love of my life. She’s a blonde haired lass with dark brown roots, a heavy Bristol accent, a vodka scent and a soft laugh. Someone many people describe as sad, overbearing, and irritable.
//Flashback- 1 Year Ago//
“Dylan, where the hell are my boots?” I yelled, rolling my eyes and I shuffled through every last shoe we have. The bitch had been in the shower since I had got home, not really saying much. As I scouraged through the piles of shoes in our closet, I looked out for a moment to see a pear of fruit of the loom boxers laying beneath the bed, as well as Nikes, a belt, and a blue flannel. None of those were items my Dylan wore or owned.
“Dylan? Bloody fucking hell did Felix come over again? Tell him he forgot his shit in our room after his afternoon shag!” I yelled. A whimper in response. My suspicions were now growing faster than ever that perhaps there was someone here, in my fucking house, shagging my fiancée in the shower.
So I did the rational thing you know?
I barged in with a bloody baseball bat. And of course, there he was, Blake small-dick Preston with his small-dick in my fiancée. Again, I did the rational thing and well...
I beat the shit out of him with that baseball bat.
Let’s just say that he was the one whimpering, in fact screaming, after that. Dylan was cussing me out, and so was he. I was just laughing my ass off because I’m pretty sure I broke Blake small-dick Preston’s willie with my bat. Honestly though, he bloody deserved it.
Right on time, Effy came home. Dylan nearly shat her trousers at the sound of Effy marching up the stairs and coming into the bathroom. Effy bursted out laughing and got into a fist fight with Dylan.
It was not as bloody as I expected, saying Effy just punched Dylan in the stomach and nose to drop her. Seeing the girl I love hurt made me yell at Effy and let’s just say nobody had to call the cops in the house-the neighbors did. So, in conclusion-I was arrested for assault and battery. And small-dick Blake went to the bloody hospital.
With no charges.
I god damn hate Britain.
***Tune in for Chapter 2 soon!***
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