Me: Okay. I’ll be out in a few minutes… just finishing up.
Before I left, I looked around my room one more time and spoke softly to the air, to the memory, to the echo that never went away. Then I grabbed my coat, hoisted the duffel bag onto my shoulder, and summoned the little bit of strength I had left, ready to see what the weekend had to bring.
Chapter four
Bryce
“My Patience, Her Makeup, And An Hour I’ll Never Get Back”
Isat in my truck outside Isis’s crib, engine running, jaw tight.
Isis had been inside doing her makeup for damn near forty-five minutes. Every time I called, she answered breathless, “I’m coming, babe! I’m almost done! This eyeliner acting dumb!”
That last time, she was mid-sentence when my patience finally snapped.
“Bryce, I swear I’m just—”
Click.
I hung up.
I stared at her front door, shaking my head.
Man, I knew this was a bad idea. I probably should’ve just stayed my ass at home this weekend, or just not brought her along, especially after what happened earlier.
When I arrived, Isis had five big ass suitcases lined up on the porch, doing entirely too much for a weekend getaway.
“Isis, what the hell isall this?” I asked, pointing at the mountain of luggage.
Isis flipped her hair with that little attitude she swore was cute. “One is for my shoes, one for hair and face products, one for personal hygiene, one for outfits, and—”
“Let me guess… one is for your perfume collection, huh?” I cut in.
She brightened like that was the most logical guess ever. “Well, my purses are included too because I had nowhere else to put them,but yes—my perfume! But oh my God! How’d you know?!”
“Because it’s you… self-explanatory.”
Then she hit me with the dramatic gasp and tried to guilt-trip me. “What if we get snowed in? I can’t survive off the same outfit twice! What if my skin gets dry? What if my nails clash with the aesthetic, Bryce?”
“Survive off what, Isis? We going to the mountains, not filming a reboot of Naked and Afraid. You don’t need fivedamn bags to sit by a fireplace.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but I kept going.
“Three bags max… and I’m being generous allowing that.”
Isis pouted, dragging out a whiny, “But what if I need—”
“You ain’t gon’ need shit but socks, pajamas, and one coat. Them other bags gotta go.” I pointed toward the door. “Roll that extra bullshit right back where it came from.”
She huffed, gathering up the suitcases.
And right then, watching her struggle back inside like the bags were disrespecting her spirit, I should’ve known that trip was about to be some bullshit.
Just then, my phone buzzed in my hand, dragging me out of my thoughts.
Davion.
Damn, I forgot to call that nigga.
