Page 5 of Falling Into Gravity

Didn’t rate him either, even though she talked shit to him earlier. Then it dawned on her that Malik must’ve been the one to add her to the system when he demanded her phone.

She closed the app just a little slower than she meant to, as his ruggedly handsome face popped into her head.

Aku made plans to scroll the app just to see what all was on there because she was nosy and intrigued but first, she needed to eat a little something in order to toss back a few shots while coaching herself not to reach out to Devin.

chapter 2

. . .

The house was quiet,but Malik was already up. Not in that peaceful, well-rested kind of way. It was more like he’d never really gone to sleep. He was still wearing yesterday’s t-shirt and socks… still sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees with his palms pressed together.

Outside, Crescent Park was already wide awake at seven in morning. Trash trucks beeped in reverse. Somebody’s baby was crying two houses down, and dogs barked at nothing like they had trauma too. Same old soundtrack, but something about home always felt right.

Crescent Park felt safe, even though the neighborhood was divided by colors.

Reaching down, he grabbed the orange pill bottle hidden under a dirty tee on the floor. The name on the front didn’t matter—as far as he was concerned, it belonged to him. He popped the cap with one hand like he’d done it a hundred times—because he had. Then he dumped two white tabs into his palm and stared at them.

His stomach was empty, but his chest felt heavier than ever.

Taking a deep sigh, he slipped one of the pills back into the bottle before swallowing the other dry.

This was his version of balance.

He used to tell himself it was just for the migraines…the tension from coding too long…the strain behind his eyes when he stared at too many screens for too many nights straight. But somewhere along the way, the headaches stopped being physical, and the pills didn’t just dull the pain—they muted everything. The anger, the grief, the constant buzzing in his chest that reminded him he was still alive, even when he didn’t feel like it.

Malik grabbed the beer can off his nightstand. It was still cold but barely touched. He used it to chase the bitter pill taste. Just one sip. Just enough to coat it, but not enough to make him sloppy. He wasn’t one ofthoseusers.

His laptop dinged on the desk, prompting him to get up and check it.Plugged In’snew update was live.

Flopping down in the chair, he cracked his knuckles before opening the admin dashboard. The dark screen came alive with notifications.

Malik clicked through them one by one, his eyes scanning fast. Somebody in Franklin Heights needed a rush re-up. A sneaker plug from Madison Heights just posted Yeezys without verifying the stock. It was his app and his rules, so he flagged the post then blocked the listing, and sent a warning.

Come correct or get off his shit.

It wasn’t just an app—it was an ecosystem. Built by him, for people who moved how he used to move. Plugged In was coded with care, encrypted with real street wisdom, and black as hell from the foundation up. Everyone from the weed man to the braid tech to the food plate queen was on it now. If you moved in Crescent Park and had something to offer, you were either on Plugged In—or locked out the game.

Malik knew he needed to get a little more sleep but the way his life and hustle was set up, he knew there wasn’t time for either. He could sleep when he was dead.

His head began to spin from the buzz of the pill and that was all the motivation he needed to officially get his day started.

He walked out his room, stepping quietly past his parents’ door. The smell of bacon and coffee was already thick in the hallway. His Mama was up, in the kitchen, talking to herself like always - singing a little gospel and scolding the eggs for sticking to the pan. His Pops was probably still knocked out, tired from the night shift as security. That was all the world deemed good enough for a two-time convicted felon.

As he rounded the corner, he smiled at his granny. Gran Betty was the love of his life. She understood him and was always willing to meet him where he was at.

Gran Betty was perched on the couch, bonnet leaning to the left, and her knit blanket around her legs like a throne. “Boy, you look like you got yo’ ass beat in a fight,” she said without even looking up from her soap opera.

Malik smiled a little. “Morning, Gran.”

“That’s all you see?” His Mama, Myesa asked, with her hand on her thin hips.

His eyes sparkled every time he looked at her because he saw why people’s first reaction to them was,boy you look just like your Mama.

He was tall and lean like Myesa. Had what the people considered good hair like her too. Where she kept hers in a ponytail, he liked to keep braids to the back in his.

“Morning, Mama,” Malik, smiled making his mama’s face light up. “Pops asleep?”

“Mm hmm,” she hummed, turning back to the sink of dishes she had moved along to. “I heard you up all night. You can’t keep doing that, Malik.” She fussed with her back still to him.

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