“Meaning like what’s next for us? We get to ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.”
“Ain’t that how shit works? Don’t start flaking out on me now because Trecee shed a few tears, acting this shit out like a Tyler Perry play. It’s too late for you to be bowing out anyway. We in this shit for life, Juicy. It’s just that simple.”
“Have you thought about my living arrangements?”
My brow rose. “What about ’em?”
“I don’t want to stay in that house with you forever. I want my own shit?—”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want you holding something over my head. I’ve always been independent, and I never had to be codependent. I don’t know what that’s like,” she expressed, talking with her hands.
“I don’t want you to leave me,” I hissed.
“You already have access to me, Romelo. I can’t take it back. I just want freedom, and I want to do things on my terms,” she stated, stabbing her finger into her chest. “You’ve had it your way and locked me in that house for weeks.”
“You feel comfortable going back to that shithole in South Memphis?”
“Fuck you, nigga,” she chuckled. “I pay to live comfortable, not above my means.”
“I’m just fuckin’ wit’ you,” I chuckled with her, scratching the back of my neck, thinking about granting her wishes.
“If you want it, I’ll get it for you?—”
“No,” she said in a sharp tone. “I want to get it. You can break my lease at my house.”
“How long is your lease for?”
“Six more months.”
I nodded my head. “How far are you behind?”
“Just two months. He wants me to pay him interest. I’m sure I have a notice to evict on my door by now.”
“So what you was gon’ do had boosting iPhones worked out like you thought it would?” I interrogated her, interested in her backup plan.
She sighed before answering. “Pay up my rent for at least another month. If the money was coming in how Allen broke it down to me, then I was going to thug it out until my lease was over and move.”
I nodded, seemingly impressed by her plan.
“You’d be six feet under with that nigga if I didn’t like yo fine ass.”
“Whatever, nigga,” she laughed, playfully hitting my side.
“You tested my gangsta,” I side-eyed her.
Scooting closer to me, she cloaked her small hands around my waist and nestled her head on my stomach. My lanky frame towered over her small one.
“Isn’t that what your woman is supposed to do? Your woman should be allowed to test your gangster and take you to heights where no one else has. You have to be putty in my hands — soft as tissue,” she spoke charmingly in a sweet tone.
“Soft as tissue, huh,” I tittered.
Placing the blunt behind my ear again, I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her closer, then bent my head down to kiss her forehead. Taking shit further, I removed my hands from around her body and gripped her face. My lips melted against hers as I slid my tongue between them, toying around with hers like I was trying to tie a knot.
We didn’t pull back until we were both satisfied, breathing heavy.
“You scared?” she asked after a little while.
