“If you say so,” he grunted.
“I do,” I said as I stood. “Text me the information for the race, and I’ll be there.”
“Okay,” he agreed.
I picked up my bag from the floor, put it on, and exited the room. There was no reason to continue being in the same room as Grant. We weren’t friends; I only tolerated him because he was my connect and Yale. She loved his scary ass, and even though I didn’t understand it, I respected her decision.
Truthfully, she needed someone like him. Someone who wasn’t in the streets heavy like I was, someone who could give her the calm life she deserved. Even though I was in med school, working my ass off to get an education and make my family proud, I was still in the streets. It was a chance that every time I walked out of the house, I might not come home, and she was the type of girl who would ride for life. Her having a square nigga ensured that she got the peaceful life she always said she wanted.
I walked to the other side of campus, where she was in class, and opened the building’s door. The hallways were busy, but niggas moved out of my way. I was focused on finding Yale and talking to her. When I arrived at her class, I pulled open the door, looked around, and found her sitting in the first row. Instead of interrupting her professor like I wanted to, I sat in the back of the room, in the corner, and watched Yale as she listened.
She was beautiful. Even from back here, I could see all her features. Warm brown skin, long oval face, full lips, small nose, slanted expressive eyes, freckles littered the bridge of her nose, and her hair was in braids. Like always, she rocked her signature 90’s style with the baggy jeans, oversized shirt that seemed to fit her somehow still, chunky hoop earrings, and a bunch of fucking gold bracelets. I talked shit constantly about her style, but low-key, no one could pull that shit off but Yale. She was also smart as fuck; majoring in Gemology, which I never even knew was a fucking thing until her, fine arts, and metal work.
For the next hour, I watched her, loving how relaxed and free she was, and ignored her professor. I didn’t give a fuck aboutwhat that nigga was talking about. When class was over, I stood, adjusted my bag, and approached her.
“Yale,” I called out, and she stopped packing her bag to look up at me. The smile that blossomed on her face had a nigga’s heart slamming into his chest.
“Hey,” she greeted me. When I was close enough, I pulled her into a hug, kissed her forehead, and let her go. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to check you out,” I said, stuffing my hands in my pockets. “I need to run something by you.”
“Okay.” She nodded, then turned back to finish packing up her bag. While she did that, I licked my lips and let my eyes take her in freely. I loved everything about Yale, and when I was around her, I was reminded of that. She wasn’t even trying to be sexy, but she was fine as fuck to me. She had curves, which I loved, and most nights I wanted to lie my head on her titties and fall asleep. I’d done that shit a few times, and let me say right now, I never had a better night’s rest than I did then.
“Slide me that bag and stop playing,” I said, putting my hand out before she could put her bag on her shoulder.
“You have your own bag,” she pointed out, and I grilled her.
“Yale, slide that shit here and stop playing,” I said, shaking my head. There was no way in hell she was going to carry shit around me. Hell, I was trying to be nice and let her walk instead of telling her to climb on my back like I usually did. She acted like she was going to put it on, and I shook my head. “Yale Forrester.”
“Okay, okay,” she laughed and handed me the bag.
“Thank you,” I said, taking it from her and putting my empty hand out for her to take. Without hesitation, she took it, and we walked up the stairs and exited the room. Unlike when I arrived, the hallways were damn near empty, which gave us time to take our time. I knew her schedule better than I knew my own attimes and was aware that she didn’t have any more classes for the day. Typically, when she didn’t have class, she would come to my house, crash, study, or bother me.
“Where’s your car?” she asked once we were outside.
“By the library,” I said as I directed us that way. As crazy as it sounded, Yale didn’t drive any other time but when she was racing. She said she loved the rush of racing too much to ever feel like she could safely be behind the wheel without speeding. I knew she wasn’t lying because I’d seen her when she raced; baby lived for the thrill.
“Can we stop and get something to eat?” she asked once we were in the car and on our way to my house. I lived close enough to campus that I didn’t trip off being late, but far enough in the cuts that niggas only came over if I trusted them enough to know where I lived. The only people who knew where I lay my head was Yale and one other friend of ours.
“Alright.” I nodded. We stopped at a hole-in-the-wall taco spot, grabbed some food, and then went to my house. I threw our backpacks in my room, then got comfortable on the couch next to Yale.
“Alright, spit it out,” she said, then took a bite of her taco. “Because whatever is on your mind has you quiet, and that’s not normally like you.” She playfully bumped me with her shoulder, and I grunted. Only Yale saw my playful side; everyone else swore I was serious as fuck, and shit, with them I was. Yale was the only one around with whom I let my guard down. “Talk, Amethyst.”
“I talked to Grant earlier,” I said, and she nodded as she took another bite of her food. “He asked me to race for him.”
“No, he didn’t,” she said, shaking her head. “He asked you to steal the car so that I could race.”
“I’ll race,” I corrected her. I don’t know why, but something was telling me not to let her race. “You can be the look-out.”
“Nope,” she denied. “You do your job, I’ll do mine. We will win, make this money, and I can walk away from all this shit.”
“You’re walking away no matter what,” I informed her. A few weeks ago, Yale came to me and said she needed to get away from racing altogether. She was about to graduate and wanted to make a clean break from her past. I was all for her doing it, too. If I had to steal to take care of both of us, then I would do that. Her being in a relationship with Grant didn’t mean shit until he put a ring on her finger. I was going to take care of her. Hell, even if he did that, I didn’t see myself stopping. She’d never want for shit, no matter what.
“Am?” Yale called out, and I turned my attention to her. “You don’t race.” She shook her head, and I smirked. “I got this. This is my last race; after this, we are done. I talked to Grant about it this morning before class; he already knows.”
“You’re good, Sunshine,” I chuckled. “You will be good after this, but not me. I got med school to pay for.”
“I can't have you out there stealing,” she said, shaking her head. “If you’re going to be a doctor, I need your focus on that. Talk to your brothers or daddy about you needing money. I don’t doubt that Citrine or Pyrite will gladly pay your bills until you’re done. They want you out of this shit just as bad as I do.”
