Tina was a chunky brown-skinned girl with big tits and a big ass. She had a real pretty face that was accented by her dark eyebrows, thick dark eyelashes, and dark almond-shaped eyes. She attracted a lot of guys. We always partied together. We frequented all of the clubs and went to every big party in the tristate area, running game on the biggest ballers out there. It was the second Saturday of the new year, the night of the Kickoff, an annual party over in Delaware that was known for being the first party of each year. Tina and me were there, of course, posted up in some fly shit. I had on some army green booty shorts with the matching cropped, open-chest army uniform jacket by Louis Vuitton. I boldly matched my outfit with a pair of vintage-looking cowboy boots in rusted shades of army green and gold. I accessorized with big gold bangles, gold hoop earrings, and three gold chains, the longest one almost reaching my belly button. I had on a pair of gold Chloé sunglasses and I carried an alligator clutch by Carlos Falchi. My hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. Tina was in some black leather pants and a black leather halter top. She wore a studded belt that rested on her hips, a studded choker, and a pair of black leather Prada pointed-toe boots. She carried a black studded doctor’s bag by Marc Jacobs. Her hair was parted in the middle and hung down to her shoulders with a choppy cut on the ends.

“Yo! This party is off the hook!” Tina yelled over the loud music.

“I know,” I said. I took another sip on my Malibu pineapple and peered through the crowded dance floor. Lighter and thinner, I was the complete opposite of Tina in terms of complexion and weight, but I was a match in the pretty department. Everywhere I went, guys were like, damn, you gorgeous, you pretty as shit, you’re beautiful. It didn’t take me long to get used to that kind of attention, and it was only smart to use it to my advantage.