“Let me find out my dick got you rebelling and throwing away your little money.”
“You keep saying little, but trust me, you need to look up the average trust fund amount. To most, my actions in doing so would make me certifiably deserving of a different kind of check.”
“Say less. If you’re sure, then I guess it’s time you met my family.”
While I have been cautioned against being with Jariyah and she’s been advised against even driving on this side of town, it seems like both of us are rebels. Jariyah just threw down the gauntlet, so I’m about to pick that mothafucka up and run with it.
“I am. Tell me about your family,” Jariyah says before she chews on her bottom lip.
“You should be nervous. Those mothafuckas won’t show you any mercy or beat around the bush with you. You’re gonna have to have thick skin and the inability to cry when they put you under pressure.”
“Your parents sound worse than my mom.”
A thunderous chuckle falls from my mouth, and Jariyah’s brows pinch as her eyes question my humor.
“Oh, we ain’t there yet. There’s a party happening at Baxtown Iron for one of my brothers tonight. I’m taking you to meet that family.”
“Oh.” Jariyah’s eyes balloon with that single word, and all I can do is smirk.
“If you want to change your mind and run home to mommy, now is the time. But doing so also nails the coffin shut, and there won’t be any coming back for you. It means you forget about me, and I’ll go back to not knowing you exist.”
Jariyah frowns deeply, and something about the action tightens the fuck outta my chest. Sudden and intense pain radiates across the area where my bitch ass love muscle is, and before long, a frown forms for me too.
“After what we did the other night, am I really that forgettable?”
Hell no! Stop capping, nigga.
My conscience screams, and my frown deepens because where the fuck did those words come from?
“Am I?”
The counter question is the only thing I can ask due to the pain I feel and my conscience telling me to not throw in the towel.
“Are you really asking that after I told you I offered up my trust fund at the thought of walking away from you?”
Damn. Why are you making this shit difficult, Jariyah?
“Are you joining me for the party or not?”
I’m not about to continue this useless line of questions. Either Jariyah and I are going to move forward with whatever this is, or we’re not. I’m not open to pointlessly discussing shit that can go either way.
“Can I meet you there? I want to go home and change first.”
My nose twists and my face hardens as I stare at Jariyah. I’m not sure why she wants to change, because the blouse and dress slacks she's wearing are acceptable.
“Don’t look like that. This is work attire. I’ve been in it all day and want to be comfortable since I’m about to be on trial.”
But you already look beautiful.
My conscience echoes, and I agree, but I understand where she’s coming from, so I give in despite feeling like she doesn’t need to.
“Okay. I’ll text you the address. Just let me know when you’re on your way so I can be on the lookout for you.”
“Sounds like a plan. Any direction on what I should wear?”
“Nothing,” I say.
Hell, if I’m being honest, it’s the best outfit choice Jariyah could ever wear. Big Homie didn’t skip a single detail with Jariyah’s body. From her handful of breasts to the juicy river that flows between her slim thighs, Jariyah is a work of art. To know that I’m the man she chose to create a new adventure with has me ready to drop down on my knees in reverence to the Most High.
