Book One || Coast to Coast
Kiana Brooks and Devontae Carter have two things in common.
1. Wanting to pursue their careers.
2.Romantic relationships are not worth risking it.
As a part time waitress and full time psychology student. Kiana Br...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"C'mon, lemme see the dress." Devontae asks for the umpteenth time, and I sigh, "For the hundredth time, no. All that I am telling you is that it's cream." He furrows his brows at me, "what?"
"Cream. It's like an off-white colour."
"I wanted to get my tie and pocket square to match to show that we're together." I mush my lips together to hide the smile at the thought of him wanting to match with me. He just stands by the doorway of my room as I fold my clothes into my suitcase, literally hours before we leave for the airport to Texas. He frowns, "you do know we only leaving for three days, right?" I scowl at him, "unlike you, I have to have to be prepared for everything, what if I spill something on myself? What if someone spills something on me? What if I lose something? What if..." He holds his hands up to stop me, "A'ight, aight. I got the gist." He chuckles and gets off the bed and helps me pack - or throw - my stuff into my purple suitcase.
"You sure you don't mind me making us fly out early? I am going to be helping with last-minute prep and making sure my cousin doesn't lose her shit." He shakes his head, handing me a T-shirt, "nah, it all comes with being a maid of honour, Kiki."
I try zip up the suitcase, struggling to get it close, I try to ignore the butterflies in my stomach at his genuine understanding, "help please."
A hearty laugh escapes him, and I hit him in the shoulder, "this is what you get for packing so much shit." I sit on it, I bounce up and down and let out a frustrated sigh, "Sure." He zips it with ease, and I exhale a deep breath of relief. I get off the bag and enter the bathroom. Shit. My hair. "Devontae?"
"Yeah?" He asks from my room; I emerge from the bathroom with a pair of scissors and a plastic bag. "You're in luck 'cause today you're gonna help me with my head." I say shaking the objects at him, grinning at him like a Cheshire cat.
...
It's been nearly three hours and my ass is numb. The cushions I had put on the floor didn't help one bit. They're three-quarters don three-quarters the last one is taking forever.
"Ya know, if you tired, we can just take a break and continue later," He suggests, and I shake my head. "No, no, no. If we stop, we won't start again, it's better we just get it over and done with. Us being done here will be our reward."
My fingers are aching, but I know I got to get these locks out. The roots were beginning to show, and it just wasn't doing it for me, its summer and its heavy. I loved them at the time but now, not so much.
His quick fingers have been removing hair after hair, dropping them in my lap. We're watching the re-runs of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air with him seated on the couch and me on the floor between his legs. Honestly, at the tin beginning, the feeling of his fingers in my hair almost lulled me to sleep but after an hour and a half into the process, I'm over it.
"Can't you go a bit faster? My ass is numb." I whine. "You the one with a big ass head so don't be rushing me." I reach behind me and pinch the skin on his thigh. "Hey, Devontae?"
