"Yo, son, he lookin' like he finna bug out his eyeballs." He been on her tail for mad long, when he gon' realize she ain't feelin' him?" D-Love said, makin' the whole stoop crack up.
Clifford rolled his eyes skyward, the whites of his eyes shown momentarily, "Aight, aight, y'all got jokes, but watch, she'll be rockin' with me soon, believe that," he said brushing them off. She glided closer, seeing to struggle from the weight of the bags. Cliff stepped up and reached out his hand, flashing a pearly smile.
"Lemme take that off your hands, shorty" he offered. She hesitated, unsure at first, but exhaustion won out as she nodded weakly, allowing him to take some of the burden from her shoulders.
"Thanks," she murmured.
His tongue darted out against his lip, as he slowly appraised her figure, the bags of groceries nestled between his arm and ribcage. "It's all good, ma," he cooed, displaying his set of pearly whites.
She smirked, turning abruptly. The boys on the stoop cleared a path for her as she gracefully ascended the steps, calling out a few words to them as she passed.
Cliff followed, his low 93' Air Trainers thumping against the steps in sync with hers. He felt a tug on his Levi's hem and glanced down to see D-Lover mouthing "simp ass," while the others stifled their laughter.
He just rolled his eyes and shot them a middle finger before hustling to catch up with Tre'ona. She let out a sigh of relief when they finally reached her door. Fishing out her keys, she slid them into the lock, turning the knob with a squeak. A wave of warmth greeted her as she stepped inside, feeling the coziness of her own space.
Turning to the tall dude who had lent a hand, she smiled sweetly. "I really appreciate it... umm, Shotgun?" she paused, her mind drawing a blank on his name.
He grinned back, finding her adorable. "Just call me Cliff," he replied, brushing off the forgotten name.
"Okay, Cliff. Thank you so much. I don't know what I would've done if you weren't there to help me with these bags," she exclaimed, inviting him inside.
He followed her inside, his eyes wide with curiosity. He couldn't help but notice how cozy and personal her place was. Every wall adorned with photos of her people, all smiles and joy. A wooden crate packed with old-school records and a CD rack filled with her favorite jams caught his eye, nestled in the corner next to a dope sound system. In the living room, a massive Sony TV blasted "Good Times" reruns, setting the mood.
He put the bags on the kitchen counter. "Damn, girl, you got a nice crib! "
"Thanks," she replied, focused on unpacking groceries, sliding them into cabinets and the fridge. Cliff shifted his weight, still scanning the room. Clearing his throat, he searched for something to say. "So, uh, what kinda music you got in that crate over there?" He nodded toward the corner, a smirk playing at his lips.
Tre'ona smiled as she put up a cereal box in the pantry, her head popping up when she heard Cliff's question. "Oh, I'm into everything. But mostly the classics. Funk, soul, Motown, jazz, hip hop. You know, the good stuff." She shrugged, her voice casual. Her eyes brightened as she continued, "My folks had used to play a lot of those records growing up and I now I to listen to them all the time. Music has always been a big part of my life." She stopped what she was doing, gesturing towards the wooden crate. "You wanna take a look?"
4 、SLOW JAMZ.
Start from the beginning
