𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐀'𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 | 𝐍𝐁𝐀 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐎𝐘.

❛Chapter one:

"Mane, fuck allat. Who you got a attitude wit? You da' one who pulled up on 'dat lame ass shit. Fuck wrong witchu?" Rolling her eyes, Michaela moved over to the chair that was placed nearby and began grabbing the overnight bag that she packed prior to her arrival. Her long, black tresses, swung over her slightly broad shoulders as she did so. "Mane Fat, what is you doin'? Stop trippin' dawg."

"Nah, Imma just go 'cause you buggin. Call one of ya' hoes or sumn." When times came to be like this between the two, Michaela would always use her petty trait and throw any slick shots towards him. It makes people mad and with him? It always pissed him off. He hated it. Another sound coming from his lips made a chuckle emit from her pair before she eventually slipped back on her Gucci GG Bloom Supreme slides.

"Shit, bye." Her eyes moved back over to him and she didn't waste any time stepping up to him to where he sat.

"So, we just not gon' give a fuck tonight, huh? Bet that shit up." His eyes widened a little, creating a vibe that he didn't too much care about what he just said.

"I thought you was leavin'?"

"Oh, I am but don't get to acting like you don't give a fuck when you really do." She reminded him before his body rose up so that he was towering over her shorter frame.

"But why is you bringin' up hoes fa? What they got to do wit' you leaving 'cause you wanna have an attitude for no reason. Make sense, Fat. You know what it is wit' me. " It amused Michaela that he continued to fake think she knew how everything was between them. If anything, she was just as lost and confused.

"Kentrell I don't know shit, please get me up to date on what it really is with us. Let's face it, them hoes you still entertaining is nothing but a call away. Right or wrong?" She remained in front of him before taking a couple steps back to analyzing his demeanor change.

"You still sound dumb as hell and wrong." Kentrell was honestly and truly tired of arguing about the same thing with Michaela. He couldn't deny the love he had for her but it seemed like his own issues made their relationship so unstable. and it taken the eighteen year old aback at the new word he placed her under. Never have Kentrell called Michaela out of her name or out of the many nicknames he's given her over the last few months that they've known each other but this, this was getting way out of hand and she knew both took it too far.

"Bitch though? Yeah, you got this. I'll dead split yo' shit boy. You just don't know." Her bag hung from her shoulder as a meaningless chuckle slipped from her set. Kentrell's hand took hold of her arm and he applied a firm grip around it.

"Split who shit? You ain't gon' do shit. Dead all 'dat fuckin' talkin'." She winced slightly at his grip, attempting to snatch her arm from his but she failed. Michaela looked him dead in his eyes, attempting to keep her own guard up but she weakened by the second.

"Trell, lemme go. Stop." Her tone was a lot softer now but that wasn't enough for him to release the teenager.

"Nah, you been talkin' out 'da ass since you got up hea' mane. Fuck alladat. Say all 'dat shit 'nie.....ion hea' ya." He challenged. His light brown orbs were strangely black in this moment as he gave Michaela a keen look. It was then she tucked her bottom lip under her teeth and she allowed her free hand to slip under the designer shirt that he wore. Pressing her cool hand against the warm skin of his abdomen, she innocently glanced back up to him.