Page 25 of Giving Him Something He Can Feel

“Fuck outta here she ain’t shatter shit. She was just doing that dumb ass overthinking shit that females do. She knew what was up the whole time.” He had a knowing smirk.

For a moment we all silently looked over the balcony at folks partying.

“I’m about to head out. I got some shit to go handle,” I spoke to my brother.

He cut his eyes in my direction, before shaking his head. “Yeah, aright man. Call me when you make it in. We’re about to head out in a lil’ while too.”

I nodded then discretely slipped through the back door. Nigga ain’t feel like dealing with all that extra shit that motherfuckers liked to pull. I had Virtue on my mind and nothing was finna stop me from getting to her. The fucked up thing is I didn’t know if I wanted to be in her space to curse her ass out or touch on her in the right ways. I was all fucked up.

When I got into my car, I pulled up the address that Facts had given me, before putting that shit in my GPS. I knew my way around the city, but the lil’ burbs and shit weren’t my thing. Well any burb other than my own. Hers was about ten minutes outside of the city, and fifteen minutes from where I was right now. Both locations closer than my own crib. My main placewas all the way out of the way, but my duck off spot was about twenty minutes away.

When I pulled up to her place, I nodded in appreciation. It was a nice spot, one of the newer building developments in the area. I looked at her building for a while before I finally got out of the car. Thankfully Facts had not only given me her address, but also the code to her building and what apartment she was in. My boy was the Kobe of this computer shit, straight up magnificent at what he did.

I bypassed the desk because old boy was sleep and went directly to the elevator. It opened the second I stepped in front of it. I stepped in and pressed the number to her floor, before leaning back against the wall. With my phone in my hand, I finally decided to look at the response that she’d sent back earlier.

Peach: Bye Cartrek.

Me: Open the door.

The elevator doors opened a minute later, and I stepped off walking in the direction of her corner apartment.

Peach: Are You crazy or something?

Me: Crazy af. Now open the fuckin’ door.

I responded just as I reached the door. I was about to knock when the door swung open wildly. Half-dressed and mugged the fuck up she stood there. “What are you doing here, Cartrek?”

“The fuck you mean what am I doing here? That nigga bet not be here.”

“And if h—” The smoke detector in her house went off, forcing her to turn away from the door and rush back toward the kitchen.

I took that as an invite to come in, which I did locking the door behind myself. Her crib smelled good, like she was in this motherfucker getting down. When I walked in, I noticed the dimly lit living room, withRush Hourplaying on the TV.

“I didn’t tell you to come in.”

“You ain’t have to. I was coming in anyway.” I looked around the kitchen noticing the glass of red wine sittingin the middle of the island, and her phone next to it. She was too busy bent over in the oven to pay me any attention. That of course gave me ample time to take in her lil’ vibe. Crib nicely decorated and clean as fuck, besides the toddler toys you couldn’t even tell she had a child.

“Why are you here, Cartrek?” She was now standing up straight and sitting a pan of whatever on her stove.

“How long you been seeing that nigga?”

She turned around sending a mug in my direction. “Why?”

“Cause I fucking asked.”

She shook her head. “Really? You do kn?—”

“You fucking him?” I asked before she could even finish whatever smart remark about to slide off her tongue.

She threw her head pack, turning her nose up narrowing her eyes in my direction. She was offended as fuck which alone let me know she wasn’t fucking him. I don’t know why I cared so much, but I did. The mere thought of it had me wanting to yoke her ass up.

“I don’t know what type of bitches you’re used to, but you’re not going to come in my fucking house and cal?—”

“Muh. Loud. Very loud.” A small voice interrupted Peach, while a small hand started pulling at her shirt.

I stepped around the island, seeing a toddler standing there with an iPad and a hand full of her mother’s shirt. Shorty was the spitting image Peach, but with brighter skin.

Peach sent a mug in my direction, before softening her face to look at her daughter. “I’m sorry baby.”

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