Two weeks later…
Kay’Lo had just pissed me the fuck off and the crazy part was that he ain’t even do shit for real. Sometimes it was just the way he moved around this big ass house like he owned the whole world, and I guess he kinda did, but still. The way he talked, the way he breathed, the way he looked at me like he knew every lil’ thing I felt before I said it. All of that shit got on my nerves right now, so I was in the kitchen mindin’ my business and actin’ like the nigga ain’t even exist.
I opened the cabinet to grab a glass.
Boom. There he go, right behind me.
I ignored him, took the glass down, closed the cabinet, and walked to the other side of the kitchen like I couldn’t feel his eyes glued to my ass.
I opened the fridge.
Boom. There he go again, right next to me.
I sucked my teeth and acted like he wasn’t breathin’ down my neck. I reached for the juice. His tall ass leaned against the counter like he was waitin’ for a show. I closed the fridge. He ain’t move.
I walked to the pantry.
He followed.
I walked to the sink.
He followed.
Everywhere I went, this nigga was right there like a damn shadow with tattoos.
Finally, he let out this annoyed ass sigh. “Toni.”
I acted like I ain’t hear his ass.
“Toni.”
I rinsed my cup and poured my juice.
He stepped closer, and I felt him before he even touched me. “Aye, look at me.”
I didn’t. I kept starin’ at the sink.
He slid his hand across the counter so slow it made heat crawl up my neck. “You gon’ keep actin’ like a fuckin’ kid or you gon’ tell me what the fuck wrong?”
“Nothin’ wrong,” I said, tryna keep my voice flat.
He laughed under his breath, that deep, disrespectful laugh niggas do when they know you lyin’. “Girl, you walkin’ ‘round here slammin’ shit, openin’ every cabinet like you lookin’ for your attitude on the shelves.”
I rolled my eyes and walked off. He followed again.
“Damn, you irritatin’ as hell,” I muttered.
He stepped right in front of me, blockin’ my path with that tall ass body. “No. What’s irritatin’ is you thinkin’ you gon’ stomp around my house actin’ like you can’t talk to nobody when I pay for yo’ fine ass to be in comfort.”
I stared up at him. “Kay’Lo, move.”
“Nah.” He placed both hands on the counter behind me, cagin’ me in without even touchin’ me. “You in here actin’ like you hate me, and I’m tryin’ real hard not to flip you on this counter and fuck that whole attitude out of you.”
My stomach did that stupid warm flip I hated.
“I ain’t got no attitude,” I snapped.
“Yes the fuck you do.” His voice dropped lower, and darker. “And you better lose that shit before I make you lose it.”
