Part 6

Walking down the front steps of my house, I could feel the sun beating down my back.

Hopefully my outfit of choice, short shorts with a flowy top and steve madden wedges, would impress him.

I was extremely shocked when he called me to ask if I would go out with him. Apparently he wanted to apologize; I’ll see if that’s his true intentions.

As I reach the red, convertible Porsche, I realize that Drake is dressed in a t-shirt and cargo shorts.

I must be overdressed for what we’re going to do.

“You look nice.” He says through a sheepish smile. He is obviously still embarrassed about the way he spoke to me.

“Thanks. You do too.” I say sheepishly also. I WAS kind of rude to him on the phone.

He reaches over the passenger seat to open the door for me.

I get in, making sure my shorts don’t ride up.

“So where to?” I ask while nonchalantly checking my image in his side mirrors.

I can’t believe how nice this car is—and how good someone could look with a t-shirt and shorts.

“Somewhere good.” He says, speeding down the street.

As we begin driving towards the GW bridge, Drake turns the knob on his car stereo.

A song by Big Sean starts to play; 100 keys

As I rap along, he nudges me.

“I’m surprised you know this song!” he shouts through the wind and music.

I could tell my hair was getting messy and my makeup was starting to smear.

“Of course!” I shout back. “I love him.”

As we continue driving, we finally get to NYC. Before I know it, we’re by central park.

Then…we’re driving IN central park.

“You probably think I’m an outdoorsy guy. But I swear I got something cool planned.” He says looking over at me with a smile.

I don’t know why, but I find him so attractive.

I watch him as he continues driving. He jaw bone is so defined and his arms are so defined….almost sculpted by Michelangelo himself.

Here we are, he says pointing towards the lake.

I quickly turn my head so he doesn’t know I was staring at him.

When I see what he is pointing at, I gasp in delight.

It’ s a small yacht with a sinner table parked on it.

How did they get a yacht in the Central Park Lake?

Whatever the case, I get out of the car and wait for Drake to lead the way.

Its extremely romantic that he planned this…but it this all for an apology?

I wonder…

“So, this man is going to take us over to the yacht.” He says holding my hand and guiding me into the small boat.

It took five minutes to reach the yacht and Drake helped me out of the small boat.

“Her we are.” He said, motioning me to go before him.

I reach the deck and wait for him.

He pulls out my chair and then sits in his.

“You’re probably wondering why I took you to such a secluded spot….i swear I’m not creepin’” he says with a laugh.

He adjusts his napkin on his lap as a waiter comes over and pores both of our champagne glasses.

“Yeah. Not that this is not nice…” I awkwardly scratching my thigh.

“I can’t really get around without being noticed so I planned it here so we wouldn’t be bothered by fans.” He said as the waiter hands me and him menus.

 “Wow. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.” I said while grabbing the menu and pausing to say “Thank you.” To the waiter.

“I really want to apologize. For the way I’ve acted. You know, its mad hard to be me nowadays. When you’re handed everything, you know, you just can’t help it. I shouldn’t treat people that way but its just so annoying that none of them never say anything back to me. They all act like I’m being okay. Like I’m such a good guy. But in reality, I haven’t called my mom in weeks. I haven’t talked to my true friends in years. And I haven’t dated a real girl in awhile…” he says, looking almost exhausted.

“Wow.” I say looking deeply into his eyes.

“What?” he says looking confused.

“I just really think that you’re a real person. I don’t know if you realize this, but if you actually let “fame” get to your head, you would continue acting the way you do. You just want a reaction from people. Trust me … I know how that feels. I used to act out BIG TIME in high school just to get my workaholic parents’ attention.”

He pauses and looks up at me.

“It’s just so hard to be normal when everyone around you treats you like you’re something better than any normal human. I’m just normal. Trust me. I am” he says looking at me again.

“I know.” I say, continuing to look at the menu.

After dinner, he shows me around his yacht.

“I just wish I could go somewhere normal instead of hanging low every night. Don’t get me wrong,” he starts to say as he sits at the front of the yacht. “I enjoy the high life. But sometimes it’s too much to handle.”

I sit next to him and take his hand, intertwining our fingers.

“Why don’t you ever ask anyone for help? Or talk to them. There has to be someone who understands…”

He squeezes my hand.

“I feel like you get me. I don’t even know you but I feel like we could be really close.”

I look at his face and stare into his eyes.

They’re dark brown and filled with the sparkle of anticipation.

I couldn’t control myself, so I leaned it for a kiss.

He comes closer and kisses me slowly and respectfully. Then, he pulls my waist closer to him and kisses me harder and more passionately.

Then, he lays back.

Thinking he wants something more, I stiffen a bit.

To my surprise, he brings me close into him and pulls me under his armpit, resting my head on his shoulder.

We look at the stars a bit before I finally say something.

“I’m not sorry for what I said.”

“Neither am I.” he replies, kissing my forehead.

Simply Drake: A fan fiction about Drake Part 5

Sitting back on my bed, I began pulling stands of my curly hair out. Small strands of course, but its still my hair.

This is my one major habit that has haunted me since a young age.

More nervousness takes over my body as I continue pulling.

As I begin to get even MORE nervous, I erupt into a fit of tears.

My skin goes blotchy as I wipe the snot from my nose.

How could I be so rude? So selfish?

** Ring Ring!

I stare at my phone for a second, contemplating whether or not I should answer my phone.

I grab my iphone from my side table where it’s been charging all night.

Great, it’s a number I don’t know…it must be one of Drake’s people.

“Hu-hullo?” I stammer through the receiver, attempting to sound “calm and collected.”

A long pause.

“Hullo?” I say again.

A long pause.

“Listen if this is a jo-“

“It’s Drake.” The voice on the other line says.

“I’m calling from my hotel room. Sorry if I scared you.”

I don’t know how to respond so I don’t.

“Can I, uh, pick you up? I want to explain myself.” He says, almost awkwardly. I could tell he feels bad for being rude.

“Listen, I’m really sorry for being so rude. I should have kept it pro-“ I started before getting cut off.

“I want to pick you up to explain myself…and take you out.” He said. I could almost hear him twiddling his thumbs in nervousness.

He’s asking to explain himself? And for dinner? What the fuck is going on?

“Uhm..well I should probably-“

“Its okay if you don’t want to, I just really want to get to know you.”

“Really? Because you always seem to cut me off, look at your iphone and ignore me whenever we talk. And why would you get to know me when you were just so rude before when I was calling you out. “ I say with an annoyed tone.

How dare he be so rude and think he would be instantly forgiven.

He made me CRY.

“THAT’S why, Karolina. You don’t yes me to death. You tell it how it is. I don’t know whos real anymore, but when someone puts me in my place rather than taking my shit, it sort of turns me on.” He says in a “matter of factly” tone.

I don’t respond quick enough.

“Haha. I must seem like I have a fetish.” He says and I can almost see him smiling with his bright-white teeth.

“When were you thinking of picking me up?” I say while basically junping out of my bed and heading towards my closet. 

Simply Drake: A Fanfiction About Drake Part 4

Finally coming out of my shocked state, I quickly headed home.

Once home, I called Betty to tell her the news.

“Are you FUCKING SERIOUS?!” she screamed into the receiver.  “When do you leave and when can I get some tickets to see this tour?!” she continued screaming.

I paused for a second and dropped my home phone.

He never actually told me when I would be starting.

“Well….we haven’t really gotten into the details…” I said, sounding a bit embarrassed.

“Find out! Ohmygod what do you think he’ll make you wear? What about the numbers?” she quickly rambled in excitement.

All this talk and questions were making me a bit nervous.

After talking to Betty, I went into the kitchen to eat my nervousness away.

Opening the refrigerator door, I found Godiva chocolates. Yum.

I ate about 10 before heading back upstairs—I should watch my weight but this is probably the last time I will ever be able to eat any sweets before the tour.

As I reached my bedroom door, I heard my skype notification ringing from my desktop Mac.

Nobody ever skypes me anymore…

I walk over to my pale-wood pottery barn desk, clicking my computer screen to change it from my screensaver to my desktop background. The skype call was coming from…

Aubreyjew22

I laughed to myself.

This cannot actually be Drake, but it could be fun to just answer it.

What have I got to lose?

I click accept and a video monitor comes up.

It IS Drake.

“Why didn’t you answer before?” he asked, his eyes looking tired yet sexy.

He yawns ever-so-slightly and I see that he is in his bed. The pillows are bunched up around him, and the lights are dim. He’s wearing a white OVOXO tank and sweatpants. He leans on one hand watching me for a response.

I, on the other hand, stand in front of my screen in disbelief.

“How did you…uh…get my skype name?” I asked, stammering like a total idiot.

“I got people who know people who know people. But anyway…” he says looking at his iphone, using his middle finger to scroll down. “I wanted to make sure you have a way of contacting me through skype and through my cell.” He says while still looking at his iphone.

That is so rude.

“Could you please look up from your iphone when you’re speaking to me?” I ask with a bit of a tone. The type of tone you take when you’re annoyed with that one teacher who acts as though you don’t matter and they’ll fail you if you have to.

“Excuse me?” he says, scrunching up his face and looking into his camera. “You have absolutely no right to speak to me like that.”

I didn’t know what to say.

Maybe I had gone a bit too far, but his ego is definitely getting to his head.

“I’m sorry I just-“ I began before getting cut off.

“You should be, and if I ever fucking hear you talk to me-“

Before he could finish, I ended the chat.

He just went too far.

Simply Drake: A Fanfiction About Drake Part III

**Beep Beep Beep Beep

“shit….” I groan as I turn over from my sleep.

6 a.m.

Fuck my life.

I scoot over to the edge of the bed and yawn a couple of more times.

I’m not supposed to meet Drake until 8.

Good. I have time to get ready.

I pull my gray leotard out and black footless stockings. Then, I reach into my dance bag for my hot pink leg warmers.

I love my dance gear; it’s just so cute and much needed.

Yawn. Yawn. Yawn.

I really hope that my routine is good enough for him. He sent me the song last night; Marvin’s Room.

I decided to do a lyrical number and I showed it to Betty last night. Of course, this was all done after her freak out and constant begging to come to the studio with me today. Drake, however, had asked that nobody but me and my dance team adviser be present.

I grab my black and pink dance bag before heading to my kitchen.

My parents are both at work, too busy to really care about the job offered I just was given.

Instead, when I told them I had been asked to be a background dancer for Drake’s tour, the said “That’s nice, honey.” and continued reading their subscription to The Wallstreet Journal. I can’t complain really, they’re both major attorney’s for a personal injury firm in NYC.

Before I head out of the kitchen and into my garage, I grab a protein bar.

Yum……fiber, peanuts and oats.

In the car I listen to Marvin’s Room again, going over the steps in my head.

It takes me around ten minutes to reach the studio, but when I do, I see that Drake’s entourage has already arrived.

I make my way in and I am stopped by a young black girl, maybe in her early twenties.

“Name?” she asks while scanning me up and down.

“Karolina Totti.” I respond while twirling one of my curls.

Why doesn’t she know who I am.

A shocked look comes over her face.

“I didn’t realize. Uhm…come in. Uhh…go practice. You have a routine, right?” she asks while almost sweating bullets.

“Of course.” I say while going into Studio A, the biggest studio.

I close the door behind me and practice my number twice.

Before I know it, Drake comes in with five people.

He’s wearing jeans and a black tank. His entourage all blends in with him; they’re almost all wearing the same thing.

“You ready?” he says barely looking up from his iphone.

He and his “people” sit on the chairs on the opposite end of the studio.

Ms. Santos, my dance team adviser, begins the music.

As I start my routine, I begin my turns.

I move with the music, almost as if I am one with it; something I learned in my 15 years of dancing.

In the last 30 seconds, Drake stands up and begins to walk towards me.

I continue dancing until his hands go around my waist.

“Dance on me.” He says quietly.

I stop and look at him.

“If you want to be on this tour, you’re going to need to know how to dance on me.” He says while grabbing my wrist and pulling me close.

I do as I’m told and begin to grind on him.

Then, he guides me to go behind him and puts my hands down the front of his chest.

I run them up and down until the music finally stops.

Then, he spins me into him.

Lingering there for a minute, he looks into my eyes.

“You’ve got the job.” He says, before pulling away and walking out of the studio.

His entourage follows him out as I continue standing there.

In utter shock.