HONEY :: ORIGINAL

waldo & the hamburglar

"Well tell ya' fine ass momma I said hey."

"Fuck you," Bobby watched William roll his eyes at his remark, "bye."

"Byeeee." Bobby hung up and put his phone away.

"Bobby, come on!" Sanai yelled ahead of him, continuing to walked up a rocky hill.

"Jeez," he walked a little faster on the trial, catching up with her. Today, Sanai proposed the idea of doing some nature shit, so, they booked a resort a few hours away and...went.

It was so easy for him to agree to things like this. He liked her enough to want to sweat his ass off doing the bare minimum and walking for miles on miles. Bobby and Sanai were pretty fit—they had gym dates three to four times a week—so that wasn't an issue. It was just hot as hell.

"I'm here," he grabbed her hand and they continued walking along the trail. Sanai had AirPods in her ear, most likely listening to either one of her own songs or a jazz album.

"Want one?" she took her right Pod out and gave it to him.

"Thanks," he put it in his ear and made a face, "I didn't know you listened to Tyler, the Creator."

"It's on shuffle," she told him, "I like this song though. What's it called?"

"This is 911/Mr. Lonely."

"Ooh, is this Frank Ocean?" she pulled her phone out, "omg, Frank! I love Frank."

"Fascinating," Bobby put his hands in his pockets and looked towards the sky, "this scenery is nice, San."

"I know, I love it. There's supposed to be a river we can see when we get to the top of this hill."

"Dope," they kept walking for another ten minutes in comfortable silence and holding hands. Bobby liked this a lot, the whole summer he didn't go on vacation, he just worked from home a lot and hung out with some British girl he was infatuated with. It wasn't not fun, but to actually get away from the everyday stresses of life and adulting felt fantastic.

Also, Sanai's hiking ensemble was possibly the cutest and most fine thing he'd ever seen. He didn't know someone could make cargo shorts work like she did.

"Yo, you look like Steve Irwin."

"What?" Sanai looked at him in confusion.

"Steve Irwin," Bobby repeated, "the crocodile hunter?"

She looked down at her clothes and snorted. "Of course I do. He was my favorite."

"Same. And thick."

"Bro. It's funny how that's such a super normal for you to say."

"I'm just a comfortable black man, man," he shrugged.

"I fucking love it," they reached the top of the hill, "my favorite black man."

"Besides Jesus," he pointed out.

"I'm Muslim, Robert."

"Shit, I forgot."

"Ain't you, nigga?" she said incredulously.

"I dunno, man," he sat on the ground and she followed, "my mom is Muslim but my dad is Christian Baptist. I grew up under a lot of shit."

"Do you have a preference?"

"Not really, to be honest."

"I'm not as tune as I should be either. You see I couldn't even last through Ramadan, honestly. I'm just uncultured, but I read a lot."