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I pushed out a sigh. “More like… what he didn’t do.” “Which was…?” “Give a damn. Try. Make me feel wanted,” I explained, then shook my head. “I know it probably sounds dramatic, and you think I’m doing the most, but…” “Nah. That’s basic shit, and if that’s not happening… what’s the point?”
“What if I don’t have any stress?” “Then I would say you’re probably ignoring or neglecting a large amount of the responsibilities that come along with being a productive adult,” I answered, honestly.
“You talk down to me about my career, you take my presence for granted, you don’t listen, you’re condescending… do I really need to go on?”
Productivity worked for some people. Avoidance was more my speed.
“Because it was the truth,” I admitted, with a shrug. “You look good as fuck, and you feel good as fuck, so… that’s what I was trying to focus on. Something that didn’t make me feel like my damn head was turning inside out.”
I’m also really tired of seeing it, reading it, hearing it, all that. The world is fucked up enough – I wanna see somebody win for once.
‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️
There was, however, something about the brooding, tortured artist mode he’d slipped into that was really making it hard for me to remain professional. I… kinda wanted to offer to ride all his problems away.
I don't blame you sis 🤪
“You’re kidding, right?” He stopped, his fork hanging from his hand in mid-air for a moment before he put it back down. “I didn’t get to taste your pussy, I haven’t had your nipples in my mouth, haven’t had my dick in your mouth, haven’t felt you with nothing between us, haven’t—”
“I’m glad to hear you’re thinking of me as something more than your babysitter.” I frowned. “I already told you, shorty; I see the value.”
It was the complete opposite of the Byers energy they’d taught me. I was supposed to stand up for myself, supposed to refuse to settle. And yet, I was panicking about even the thought of admitting I was doing both of those things.
I let him make me cum again, and then I let him eat too many of my granola bars, and then… I let him into my bed.
“You know I heard that, right?” “So?” I shrugged. “Fuck him.”
Say it again Pierre !
I’m about to end up with a whole new addiction. That was the thought that forced me to pull back from her… eventually.
There, she looked up at me with a teasing smirk. “Pierre… you’re not jealous are you?” I sucked my teeth. “Why would you ask that?”
“Your face. It’s doing a thing.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied, but none of the utter amusement left her face. “Mmmhmm.”
Being at odds with somebody you love is a waste of time. It’s one thing to need a few hours to cool off – even a day, you know? But if you’re comfortable withholding attention and affection for longer than that, over something that could be solved by a conversation – or even better, by you not being a fucking bully? There’s something wrong there. And if you’re on the receiving end of that, you shouldn’t be letting it ride. Whether it’s friends, family, romantic, whatever. They’ve gotta put their shit to the side when it comes to your life.
I one thousand percent agree.
“Your ass is always seeing some shit,” I chuckled. “Just like you saw Noah in that airport.” “You damn right – I saw the love of my life and took my chance. As far as I see it, ain’t no shame in that. My lady will be ready and waiting for me when I get back to LA,” he bragged.
Nick x Noah 💕💕💕💕
“Hey… just as… friends, right?” “You’re asking me not to fuck you?” “Basically, yes.” “Okay. I’ll try.”
Pierre said I can't promise anything.
“Oh, that’s why it took you so long – you brought back a stray fuckboy,” the one who’d been speaking before laughed, pushing a handful of waist-length braids over her shoulder.
Where is Laurel's book 🤣🤣
“Awww!” from Rowan, and a muttered, “We’re really supposed to believe they’re not fucking?” from Laurel.
“This is what you needed a personal day for?” I asked. “To kick it with your girls in the middle of the day and eat buffet food at home?” Her eyes went wide, mouth open, but I spoke again before she could. “Seems like a dope ass break to me. I might have to take some notes.”
“Look, I was deadass about the fine, single homeboys,” Laurel spoke up after a while, waving off that whole line of conversation. “With your tats, and that haircut, your lil sneakers and all, you’re fully immersed in the fuck-nigga uniform – where the rest of y’all at?”
😂
“Okay. Okay. Um… I thought you’d said that you were just trying to like… make me feel better or something. Not like nature was calling you into my pussy or something.”
“Right,” she whispered. “But…” “But nothing.” I shook my head. “Don’t… don’t make it something it’s not. I’m not confused about being drawn to you, and you don’t have to be either.”
“I gave it up to a beautiful, big-hearted girl who looked at me like she needed me to help her feel something, who didn’t make me feel like her presence was gonna drag me back into the abyss. I can’t think of anything more special.”
I wasn’t – usually – the kind of girl who operated too largely on my “feelings”. I liked logic, and concrete things I could reach out and touch, and… neat boxes.
Logic > Emotion
We had a good energy going, and I wasn’t about to be the one to fuck it up.
Mediocre white folks got rewarded for wack shit all the time,
why shouldn’t she?
Love doesn’t ask you to suffer for it. Love doesn’t require your misery. Love desires your wholeness. Love doesn’t see you hurting and begging to be seen and decide that’s an acceptable state. If your love and attention require that I fall in line to live a life I barely want to wake up to… I don’t want anything to do with that.”
A. Fucking. Worddddd.
I will start my own legacy, yes of giving my children whatever tools, resources, benefits I can.
Like I should take whatever is handed to me because of what some hypothetical person doesn’t have.”
She ran her tongue over her lips. “No. I… don’t have office sex,” she said. “This isn’t me.” I moved my hand, skimming over her clit through her panties before I pressed harder, drawing a whimper. “But it could be,” I murmured against her lips. “I think you want it to be,”
Let it be you girl. Just go with the flow.
“I want you to make me cum,” she breathed, sounding a bit desperate as she moved her hips to create the friction I wasn’t giving. “Right here on the desk?” “Yes.” “Right next to Anthony’s flowers?” “Yes.” Say less.
She came with me to say hello to Steph, so that I could send him on to be with the rest of the family while I got chewed out. I mean, while I saw Logan safely to her car.
😂😂😂😂
Mine, but I corrected El when she called him my boyfriend. What kind of sense did that make?
That was how I knew we were really back on good terms, cause Kimberly Byers didn’t play about her baby, and I guess she felt like she needed to make that clear.
“Ay, you’re not calling your ass finished without toning and moisturizing, are you?” She poked her head back in the bathroom door. “What?”
This right here next level care ☺️
feeling what you were feeling instead of rushing to try to fix it or not feel it anymore.
More specifically, my mother had drilled into me that it was never, ever, my job to restore or renovate a man.
A knock at the door reminded me though, that Pierre didn’t really do ignored calls. If he was worried about me, he was going to just show up. Which… was honestly a great quality.
Top fucking tier.
“You were so worried about that man you cried and called his sponsor, but you’re not in a relationship with him. Bullshit somebody else, Logan.”
Des ain't going for it & neither am I 😂🤣
“I don’t want that girl in your face,” I murmured against his lips, once I’d pulled away from a bruising sort of kiss I’d taken
“Why should I care about that?” he asked, giving me that same smirk again. “I know you’ve got it in you… just say it.” “Because you’re taken,” I practically growled, then kissed him again.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Graduating college isn’t the end, getting married isn’t the end, even death isn’t the end. All those things are just the beginnings of new stories, maybe happening outside my creative lens. It’s not up to us to tell a complete story – that’s not possible. Our job is to tell the story we see. Anything else has to be left to the imagination.”
