💕Your worth loving💕 A twisted paradize. Amiyah scott and Chris Brown story Bxb

Deep scars will heal

“Oh hey. I was just comin’ out of my grandma’s room. She just fell asleep.”

“You free? I was thinkin’ we could hit a movie or somethin’.”

“I would, but…” I sighed. “I got a lot goin’ on. Grandma’s sick. Last thing I need is to be out like everything’s sweet.”

“Damn. She good? She need anything?”

“Nah, she just need rest. She been barely eatin’ unless I basically force-feed her.”

“Shit. I’m sorry to hear that.” He paused. “How ‘bout this? I pull up with some stuff for OG, snacks, my PS5. We chill here. I can help with whatever y’all need.”

Lawd. This man really didn’t know how bad I wanted to risk it all and give him twins. Why he gotta be straight?

“Uh… yeah. That sound like a—uh, a plan.” I caught myself before I said “date.”

“Aight then. See you in a few,” he said with a laugh. “Bye.”

“Bye.” I hung up, cheesin’ like a damn fool. But of course, the universe couldn’t let me have peace. The front door flung open and slammed shut.

Here we go...

“Why are they here?” I groaned, unlocking my door and stepping out. Sure enough, there go my mama and Demontae — either drunk, high, or both. Probably both.

“Can y’all not be so damn loud? Grandma just went to sleep,” I snapped.

My mama rolled her eyes and kept it pushin’ like I wasn’t even there. Demontae smirked and made a beeline for the kitchen.

“Boy, I’m grown. I do what the fuck I want,” she said over her shoulder.

“You grown but still crashin’ at your mama house, jobless and worthless.”

“Lil nigga, get out my face before I do damage. That old bitch ain’t gon’ save you today,” she snarled, stepping toward me.

I didn’t flinch. “Mother. I ain’t twelve anymore. Try it if you want—I will fuck you up.”

That smirk dropped from her face quick. Demontae came back into the hallway, plate in hand, grinning like the Joker.

“I dare you to hit her in front of me,” he said. “Let’s see how far you really get.”

“I ain’t twelve no more, remember that. I’ll get far—and then some.”

Then came the knock on the door.

“Who the fuck…?” My mama stomped over and yanked it open. There stood Elijah, backpack on one shoulder, bags in both hands lookin’ fine as hell.

“Oh… hello,” she said, practically undressing him with her eyes. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here for Gabriel,” he said smoothly, locking eyes with me over her shoulder.

Lord, take me now.

“Him?” she blinked. “I guess come in.” She stepped back, still damn near drooling. “How old are you anyway?”

“Don’t y’all got somethin’ to do?” I cut in, shootin’ her the dirtiest look.

She opened her mouth, but before she could say a word, Demontae came outta nowhere.

“Actually, we gotta go,” he barked.

“What? We just got here,” she blinked, confused.

“Bitch, grab your shit. Smilin’ in that nigga face like you ain’t got no shame.” He threw her purse and jacket at her chest, then pushed her out the door and slammed it behind them.

I blinked. “What the fuck was that?”

Elijah looked at me, concerned. “You good?”

“Yeah… you know how she is.” I shrugged it off. “How was your trip?”

He followed me into my room. “Cool. We didn’t get much done, though. Zeus had Ghenesis screamin’ every night—”

“What?”

“Oh—nothin’. Just… it was chill. We got back earlier than expected.”

I squinted. “Uh huh. And I’m just now seein’ you why?”

“Chill,” he laughed. “I had to make some moves first.”

“Oh! You went to check on your lil hoes? Cute.”

He stopped mid-step. His smile disappeared.

“That how you see me?”

“What? No! I—I was just playin’.”

He stared for a moment, then smiled again, pulling his PS5 from his bag and hooking it up to my TV.

“I’m sorry if I disrespected you,” I said. “Didn’t mean to make you feel any type of way.”

“You good. I just… I wanna be someone you proud of, you know?”

That made me blink.

“Oh… well yeah. Of course. Hell, you move smarter than most dudes I know. You probably make more than all our teachers combined.”

I plopped on the bed, grabbing the remote. “I got Netflix logged in. We can watch whatever.”

He kicked his slides off and came to sit—then paused.

“Wait—outside clothes don’t go on my bed,” I warned.

He smirked. “Bet.”

Then this man STRIPPED. Shirt and pants off, laid ‘em neatly on the dresser like he was home. All that was left was basketball shorts.

“This better?”

“Uh… yeah. Cool. Perfect.” I turned back to the TV, heart racing.

Sweet baby Jesus, keep me near the cross.