Travis Scott's Mode Crossword Clue Novels & Stories

Now my own mom want's me to have a one night stand with a total stranger, I just hate this woman. ****** Is it 402 or 403 fuck my battery is flat how will I know the lodge she sent, well let me go for 403 it sounds familiar, I opened the room staggeredly, nervous and shivered the room is damn dark. A hand held me from behind. "Good day sir" I said shaking. "what do you want?" I could smell the heavy alcohol. I'm short on words. " sir I love you " I said reluctantly. " get lost" fuck how am I gonna do this.

The loud cheery voice of my newfound friend was across the room causing me to smile. "Morning Viv," I say. Vivian looks so beautiful today. She is in a white off-shoulder top and a short skirt. Her hair is packed in a ponytail. "You look so beautiful today," I say smiling down at her outfit. "So do you," she says. The cloth she is wearing makes Carson’s mark so obvious. "Oh. Beautiful isn't it?" She asks. She catches me staring at her mark. I'll like to have one too. "Trust me Don is going to mark you too. He just wants you to be happy" Vivian says and I nodded.

I just walked out. Now on the plane, I sat next to Sarah to keep Scott away while my half-brother worked a crossword and betrayed not a hint of concern. He did look up from time to time to smile at us and make comments about how good it was going to be to get home and how wonderful Malo had been to put him up while all “the unpleasantness” was going on. I informed Sarah of Scott’s strategy in low tones once we were in the air. “And Travis says there’s no paper trail to Scott at all?” she confirmed.

Travis. He walked in with his bodyguards, his presence cutting through the crowd like an arrow. Gone was the man who had tended to me with quiet care last night. Here stood the country's billionaire bachelor, commanding, composed, exuding power and affluence. The reporters surged toward him, but he raised a hand, and the room obeyed. His eyes found mine across the hall, steadying me. Then he spoke, calm, assured, every word spoken with certainty. “I am Travis Scott. Yes, I am the investor backing this revival. I believe in Morrison Brewery because I believe in the woman leading it. Selina Morrison is not just fighting for this company. She is fighting for every worker here. And I stand with

*songs* Cadmium- Ghost James Bay- Us Illenium- Crawl outta love ****** "Scott never comes to any family function or stuffs like these" Danielle shook her head while still looking at Scott through the window. I stared at him too and now he was just looking around. David was still talking but with someone else that joined them. Scott looked terribly bored. "Why? Why doesn't he come?" I ask.

“You’re giving her a lot of benefit of the doubt.” Max’s expression turned thoughtful. “Am I?” Scott stepped closer to the desk. “Yes.” He lowered his voice slightly. “Which is exactly what worries me.” Max didn’t respond. Scott studied him more closely now. “What are you planning?” Max met his gaze again. “Nothing.” Scott didn’t believe that for a second. “You’re waiting,” Scott said slowly. Max didn’t deny it. Scott exhaled sharply. “You always do this.” “Do what?” “Set traps instead of asking questions.”

I didn’t call him out. I stepped aside. “Please.” When Travis came in, he was carrying a fruit plate and a small, mysterious paper bag. His gaze cut sharply over the two men on the sofa. They were wiped from performing. Faces flushed, clothes a mess, breathing hard. When Travis saw the rumpled sheets, his fist clenched so tightly his knuckles popped. It took him a long moment to rein in that murderous look before he went into the bathroom. The second the door shut, the two models started trembling.

Scott reappears with the drinks and looks on in horror at the money Tristan has just won. Keen to celebrate his abrupt win, Tristan takes the drink from Scott and quickly drinks it down in one smooth motion, barely making a face. Damn, isn't that supposed to be a strong drink? "The gentleman is on a honeymoon period," the dealer quips. Tristan shakes his finger at the dealer, giving him a cheeky grin. "Oh no, I'm not on my honeymoon period. Another lucky couple are on theirs right now." He puts his hands in his pockets, and starts turning around. "I'm out, no more betting for me."

What the fuck is that? I fling Harley's blanket off me and bolt up, storming to the door in a fit of rage due to being woken up from my peaceful, arousing sleep. I unbolt the locks and swing the door open, grimacing at Trigger's smug face as he stands there with a devious grin on his lips and a cigarette tucked behind his ear. “What the fuck do you want, Scotty?” “Aw, you're not happy to see your best friend? I just got out of prison, man. I thought you'd be happier to see me.”

His gaze is soft, and his eyes are kind as they roam my face while his thumbs brush away the tears from my cheeks. “Harley, baby girl, what’s the matter?” His tone is smooth like butter and soft like cotton, washing a sense of comfort over me as he speaks. “It’s nothing, Trigger. Don’t worry about it.” I assure him, desperately hoping he buys into the whole facade I’m trying to convey. "I'm Scotty. Trigger is what the streets call me, but you can call me Scotty, baby girl." It's Scotty, huh? I can see that.”