Tyrell
(Saturday morning)

"Ion fuck witchu." I said to Bri over the phone.

"Why?" Bri asks, but snorts at the same time. She knows exactly why I don't fuck wit her.

"You stay telling my business." I respond.

"Ok that's true, but you gotta give me props for not saying a word about your situationship with C.K." She said, "Quan and Ta'Leah figured that out for themselves."

"Ight, so yo mouth size reduced by 0.2%." I conclude.

"Fuck you."

"I already got that covered, cousin."

C.K. comes into the frame. He wraps his arms around my neck before placing his head on top of mine. Bri mugs him.

"Yea I know, you dirty bastard." She responds.

"Yo mama still built like a Henny bottle." Christian said outta nowhere.

I choke on my spit.

"And yo mama's bow-legged ass legs look like the number 12." Bri retorts.

I start coughing. Legs lookin like the number 12?! She outta line-

"Your dad's hairline looks like a lightning bolt." Christian interrupts my thoughts.

"Ayoooo!" I exclaim, "Why yall gettin on yall own flesh and blood like this?!"

"This is nun. We've said worse." Bri tells me.

"Remember 'Grandma Carlton's back goes in like an obtuse angle'?" Christian reminds her.

"Wait-"

Bri laughs, "Oh that was a good one. What about 'Grandma Yvette's spine curves like the letter J'?"

I shake my head, but I can't stop myself from laughing. Not even the grandmas are safe from catching smoke.

"And yall swear I'm the asshole." I said.

"A lil girl called you scary and you told her 'What's scary is the fact yo skin drier than our biscuits'." Bri reminds me.

Christian pulls away from me to gently smack me upside my head. I turn my head and frown at him. "What did I do?" I question.

"Why would you tell a lil girl that?" He asks in a disappointed tone.

"If she wanted somebody to lie to her, she should've took her pansy ass to Chick-fil-a." I shrug.

"Unt unt, what you not gone do, is come for Chick-fil-a." Bri said.

"Yall sandwich ass. Pure ass. They put a soggy piece of chicken in between two buns with one pickle underneath it. Ion know how anybody called yall the GOAT before we dropped our shit." I rant.

"You must've got that "Chick-fil-a" sandwich from the slums." She argues, "That's besides the point. People always gone fuck wit us more cuz we don't got reckless niggas behind the counters."

"That's yall problem," I said, making C.K. snicker. "I wish a bitch built like Mr.Krabs and a nigga shaped like Larry the Lobster would come talkin crazy in my face. My Pleasure, nah more like My Pleasure escorting you the fuck out."

C.K. throws his head back laughing. Bri just stares at me in disbelief. I get paid too little to be putting up with bullshit from customers all week. Popeyes is such a perfect job for me and I'm finna be so sad when I have to part ways with the ghetto establishment.

I actually gotta be caring and considerate as a nurse.

Mane fuck it. If a nigga wit a broken ankle pisses me off, he gotta go. I'm finna send him out into the world without crutches or a wheelchair.

The family can't get too mad. This is Florida after all. Floridians don't give a damn about shit and I'm the most Floridian Floridian anyone will come across.

"Ghetto, just ghetto." Bri comments.

"I know." I admit.

"Lemme go talk to my nigga, chile." She said.

"With the way Quan be scared to cuss customers out, he should be working at Chick-fil-a." I said.

"Hop off my nigga, thanks."

"Pansy ass relationship."

Bri hangs up the phone.

"You're a headache." C.K. tells me.

"A worthy one, I hope." I respond.

"Yea. I rather have you as my headache than a hangover." He winks at me.

I roll my eyes. "You swear you're smooth."

"If I wasn't, we wouldn't be dating." C.K. points out.

Knowing that he's right, I look at him like:

C.K. laughs. "Mean ass. Anyways, what you wanna do today?"

"Stay inside." I said simply.

"You always wanna stay inside, gah damn." C.K. said.

"More like after Thursday night's events, you need to chill out for a bit." I reply.

"We don't gotta go somewhere with liquor." He suggests.

"Ok you got me, Im not tryna move." I admit.

C.K shakes his head while getting his phone. "Sit up." He tells me.

I sit up. C.K. wraps one arm around my back. He keeps his phone in his right hand. He guides me down until I hit the bed. Then, C.K. lays down on me, head resting on my chest.

"Comfortable?" He asks.

I wrap my legs around his waist. "Very." I said.

He grins before looking at his phone. I bring my phone back to my face. "Play me in Imessage." I tell him.

"Crazy Eight?"

"Ooooh I would fuck you up in that game."

C.K. proceeds to look all around the room before looking back at me. "Fuck who up?" He questions.

"There's only two people in this room, so take a guess." I clapback.

"Slick ass mouth." C.K. said, "Keep that same energy when I win."

"Bet." I said.

I send an invite to him. C.K. accepts. I'm up first. I put down a red card.

"Damn." C.K. mutters as he draws.

He puts down a yellow 7. Nigga thought he got me, but I got a yellow. I put it down. Now, I got 6 cards and he still got 7.

We continue to drop off cards until the last 3. C.K. puts down a wild card and changes the color to blue. I put down a blue card, which brings us both to 2 cards.

C.K. puts down a card. I smirk as I put down a draw 4. I change the color back to red.

I was gone win.

Keyword: was

He puts down a draw 4 in retaliation, making my heart drop to my ass. C.K. looks up from his phone and stares at me. A smirk forms on his annoyingly sexy lips. "Good game."

"Take me home." I reply, like 10% serious and 90% deadass.

C.K. sits up and looks down at me.

"This is your home, nigga."

"Evict me. Ion like it here."

"Don't be like that," C.K. laughs, "Will some kisses make everything better?"

"No-fuck it, yes." I change my mind.

He laughs again. He leans down and presses his lips against me. C.K. pecks my lips a couple of times, making me smile.

Every part of this nigga has God's magic touch with a little bit of the Devil's corruption sprinkled in.

《 Time Skip 》

"You know how to braid hair?" C.K. asks me.

"Yea," I said, "You want me to braid yours?"

He nods.

"You want like singles or cornrows?" I question.

"Singles." He answers.

"Want me to do em right now? Like you got the products and stuff?"

"Blue magic and a rat tail comb?"

A grin forms on my face. "Oooh, you know your stuff."

"Of course." He winks at me.

For the next 30 minutes, C.K. washes his hair and blow-dries it. I raise a brow when he comes out the bathroom with the oil and the comb. He gotta lil bit of hang time, not gone lie.

He sits down on the footrest in between my legs. I put my phone down and pay attention to his hair. I take out the elastic and his hair drops down.

"Your hair nice as hell." I comment.

"I know that." C.K. said.

"Cocky ass nigga," I mutter, "That's why I don't fuck witchu."

"But you be fuckin on me." He retorts.

"Imma stop doing that." I lied.

I need my daily dose of dick, I'm sorry.

"Don't do that." C.K. said.

And he needs his daily dose of me, so we even.

I take the comb and I start off by parting the back section horizontally. Then, I apply oil to his scalp. Afterwards, I part vertically for the first. Applying oil to the root and to the scalp again, I finally start braiding.

I finish that braid and start on the next one. One by one, I finish the first row, which brings me to the second one.

Eventually, I finish his hair. I stare at my work proudly. This reminds me of Geometry and my mama's heavy handed ass. My head used to hurt after she was done with braiding.

"Where yo razor at?" I ask, "Yo tapeline lookin kinda dusty."

"First of all, hop off me. Two, you sure you won't fuck me up?" He questions cautiously.

"Nigga, if I didn't wanna be a nurse, I would've been a barber." I reassure him.

"Ight." C.K. gets up to go retrieve the razor.

When he comes back, he sits down. I stand in front of him. I turn the razor on and I clutch his head gently. I line up the front slowly before doing the same to the sides. Also, I make sure to shave down his sideburns a lil.

I finish. "Take a look."

C.K. opens his front camera. "Ooooooh, I'm sexy!" He exclaims, turning his head to take a full look.

"I did a good job?" I make a hopeful face.

"Nigga, you know you did better than good." C.K. assures me, "I might start going to you and cut my barber off."

"Don't do that." I laugh.

"Seriously, how you know how to do hair so good?"

"When I was 10, my barber fucked my shit up. My hairline was more like a hairwiggle."

His eyes widen and he chokes. "H-Hair....wiggle?"

I nod. "So, I taught myself off of YouTube. I watched like 10 videos though, cuz I refused to get a tapeline worse than a hairwiggle. Oh, and the braiding comes naturally from my mom." I explain.

"My nigga so talented." C.K. teases, poking me in the stomach.

"Shut up." I said.

Sudddenly, his arm wraps around my waist. He pulls me onto his lap. Before  I can curse his ass out, he takes a snap of us. I mug him before pushing his head gently. He chuckes as he ends the video.

I watch him caption it as "My personal barber ❤". I roll my eyes. C.K. posts it and then puts his phone down.

I go put away everything. When I return, I see C.K. tying a light blue durag. Damn, he can be fine doing anything.

"Let's watch a movie." I suggest.

C.K. ties the knot on his durag. Next, he grabs the remote. He turns on the TV. Then, he selects Netflix.

Netflix loads. C.K. selects his account. "What you want to watch?"

"The Kissing Booth." I said.

C.K. looks at me like:

And rightfully so.

"Nigga we about to be CinemaSins 2.0. I'm not watching this out of pure joy." I tell him.

"Whew." He sighs in relief.

We lay down on the bed. The movie starts. C.K. puts his hands behind his head. I cross my feet.

Throughout the movie...

"She bend over in that once and it's done for."

"Why they got the black girl's wig lookin like dat?"

"Why she dance like she knock-kneed?"

"So she think she a boss for taking her shirt off in the boys locker room?"

"They did that nigga Lee wrong. Yea he corny, but chill on him tho."

"Bruh so the mom just gone snitch on Elle like dat?"

"Nah cuz how they find the time to sneak around Lee's back for weeks?"

"Is it really that big of a deal that she's dating your brother?"

When the movie ends, C.K. and I let out a breath. Netflix material be so corny and unoriginal. This is why I only be on here when they add black sitcoms and childhood cartoons, no cap.