Santana Harris has had her fair share of relationships. She is 25 and trying so hard not to be the bitter friend but love has bit her in the ass too many times. She isn't trying to give anyone the time of day because once she begins to fall, they al...
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Easton was rubbing on my booty. When his hand slipped under the fabric and gripped my cheek, I grasped. We had been laying in bed, just talking all night. It was currently four in the morning and I was growing hungry but I was prepared for this. Grabbing his wrist, I moved his hand and got off of the bed to get my purse.
I walked back to the bed, pulling out Life Saver Gummies, pretzels, and a Powerade. Easton was looking confused but I was always prepared. I smoked too much not to have snacks on deck at all times.
"I don't usually share my candy but would you like some?" I offered as I made myself comfortable on the bed.
His ass playfully snatched them out of the hand as soon as I opened them. "These shits are fire." Easton passed the pack back. "I thought niggas was really gassin'."
I shook my head. "They're worth the hype. Believe me." He laid on his side and threw his hand over my stomach. "If you weren't a barber, what would you do? Like, if you had the opportunity to have your dream career, what is it?"
Easton furrowed his brows before looking up at me. "I haven't really thought bout it. I would either play ball or rap."
"Typical." I teased.
"Shut up." He nudged me.
"I'm playin'. That's dope tho. Do you still rap?" I got excited as I sat up further on the bed. "Ooh, spit a freestyle for me."
Easton started chuckling until he noticed I was serious. He sat up and cleared his throat. "Motivated by struggle, they only hate when you hustle. You want me to be broke? Fuck that I'm tryna double. I'm from the home of the hustlers. Where if you ain't the nigga hustling, you's a customer. No trust for ya. All my life, raised around the smokers no muffler. The sniffers in the jugglers where nobody had love for us."
First of all, I was high as a kite but he was just floating, leaving my mouth was wide open. "Easton!" I exclaimed. "That was dope." He threw a side eye in my direction. "I'm so serious. That was dope as hell."
"Preciate that." He licked his lips and leaned back on the headboard. "I used to want to do that shit forreal. All my homies used to motivate me and push me to pursue this shit. Then my best friend got killed while I was locked up and all I could think bout was gettin' out of Harlem."
I nodded. "I think you should still do it. If that's just a snippet of what you can do, just imagine if you really put your all into it. You could really go places with that."
"Nah don't gas me."
"I don't gas. I spit facts." I said, repositioning myself to face him. "I really think you should get back into it. Do you still write?" I could tell he did. This wasn't just a habit to him no matter how much he tried to downplay it. I could see it in his eyes.
