Flow (Grip, #0.5)

by Kennedy Ryan

“Here ya go.” I proffer my phone. “For you, Marlon.”

“But the struggle is real. Don’t work, don’t eat, so I work whenever the opportunity presents itself.”

He has no money…..uh I’ll keep reading but idkkk

“We’ve already established that I don’t listen to the hippity hop very much,” I say wryly.

I don’t like her 🫣

“Taking the power?” I shake my head, fascinated, but confused. “What does that mean?”

Pleeeease

“You may have me halfway to understanding that,” I say. “But you will not get me to be okay with the misogyny that is such a part of hip-hop culture.”

I just don’t want to read about these talking points, a white lady not understanding why we use the n-word..doesn’t listen to “hippity hop” but wants to discuss the misogyny in the music. Hush. Pls.

“I just don’t define myself by my looks. There’s a lot more to me than that.”

She is not like other girls 💁🏾‍♀️

I had to leave my Ivy League college to get the most thought-provoking, stimulating conversation I’ve had in ages. Maybe ever. And with a rapper.

Shocking isn’t it, that A RAPPER is so intelligent and insightful

When I tell a girl we need to take a break, that’s code for there’s this other chick I’m feeling so we should cut this off before I do something we’ll both regret.

Maybe these characters just aren’t for me?

I’ll be lucky if a roach doesn’t greet us at the door.

Kennedy pls

“You don’t talk like most rappers I know.” I smile because I hear how bad it sounds, but I somehow feel like I can say it to him even ineloquently.

I understand this is supposed to be cute banter between them but she makes me cringe so bad

“I guess you’re all ‘I like big butts and I cannot lie.’”

Another one

“What color are you?” he repeats, his eyes never leaving my face. “You, Bristol, are a freaking prism.”

“Did you just . . .” I search for the right word, “whiff me?” His husky laugh leaves warm breath at my neck, skittering a shiver down my spine. “It’s better than the alternative,” he says. “Which is what?” I pull back to peer up at his face. “Kissing you.”

isn’t an off chance,” I say softly. “It’s a certainty.” “What’s a certainty?” A frown conveys his confusion. “That you’ll be something one day.”

I mean, yes, talk to her till the sun comes up, laugh about the stand-up comedians we both like, exchange playlists, debate hot-button politics, explore all the ways we are different and just alike . . .but also I want to fuck her.

“I’ll recite ‘Poetry’ by Pablo Neruda. My favorite, actually.” Grip’s voice is warm but disembodied as I press my eyes closed. “It feels like he was writing my life story.

There are too few perfect moments in this life. Far too few of us get them, but I am privileged to have this one with this man. When he empties his chest of his heart and empties his body of his soul for me under a starry sky on a Ferris wheel. And I know. In this moment, I know that I’m lost to him. It has been a matter of days. It has been a string of moments. It has not been long enough to tell him, but in my heart, I know I am lost.

The inches between our lips disappear. At the first brush of his mouth on mine, I know this kiss will never end. It will live on in my memory for the rest of my life.

At the top of the world, so close we could almost touch the sky and with only the stars watching, I found out what a kiss should be.

I’ll deal with Tessa as soon as Bristol is gone.

I’m sorry, what? 👂🏾

That’s her spot. One of them. She wants to take it slow? I’m willing to take my time finding all the others.

“You come back to me, okay?” he whispers in my ear. “Slow doesn’t mean stop, right?”