HARDAWAY | trilogy

V2 - Chapter Thirty.

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎

"You clowns ain't hear me struggling to open the door?" Carrying the brown paper grocery bags, I directed my question to Skylar and DeAndre as they sat comfortably on the couch and playing each other in Madden and 'Fire' by Twista played from the round speaker on the coffee table — Kush weed gets me higher and da diesel get me blowed — My foot helped me shut the door behind me while they looked at me as if I spoke a foreign language.

"Nope; whatchu got in there?"

"Nothin' for you," I inform as I footed to the kitchen.

"Man, stop playin'," DeAndre followed me and looked in the bags when I sat them on the counter. "You cookin' or sumn? What dis chicken breast for?"

"Chicken Fajitas," I removed my bubble jacket as he happily danced. "And no, it's not for you or him. I'm makin' this for Aalea. She coming over tonight and y'all leaving."

"We leaving?" DeAndre repeated, "And go where? My room down the hall."

"I know and tonight you sleeping over one them female house because I need some alone time wit my girl without y'all being across and next to my room."

Skylar walked in and asked, "What we eatin' tonight?"

"Apparently, nothin. Li'l charmer boy here makin' Chicken Fajitas for him and his girl while we go find somewhere to lay our heads for tonight."

Skylar chuckled, "what? We ain't did that shit since the residence hall days."

"And it's gone be a big-ass sock on the front doorknob so you niggas stay out the house tonight."

"Can we at least take a Fajita? Damn, already putting us out our own shit for yo li'l honeymoon night."

"So what is tonight?" Skylar asked, rummaging through the brown bags, "You got the candles in dis bitch. It's a anniversary or sumthin?"

"Mind yours," I chuckled, and grabbed the paper bags from their reach. "I can't just be cooking for my lady."

"Hell na', you done sum'n, G."

"Just go pack y'all damn overnight bag and get out my business."

DeAndre phone binged and he stared down at the screen, "You better be glad Journey just texted me. I'm out yo' way tonight buddy," he smacked my shoulder and left the kitchen.

"Well, ain't nobody text me, so. . ."

"Go to yo Mama house; I don't care but you getting outta here."

"See," he shook his head and pointed at me. "You ain't shit. I should be eating Chicken Fajitas too, nigga."

I laughed as he walked out of the kitchen just as my phone chimed. Speaking of the devil Aalea's contact flashed across the iPhone screen and I answered, "What up baby? You gone be here at six-thirty right?"

"Yes papi. I promised I would."

"Good; because I kicked them niggas out for tonight. It's just me and you, baby."