'Jules' mind went back under the moonlight and night air of Baldwin's Fine Arts Center Garden, where intense anger shifted into an intimate moment of curiosity with a blow of the wind.
Maybe two flames weren't supposed to be that close when raging...
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"Cause whatever you love can be taken away, so live like it's your dying day."
– Machine Gun Kelly
* trying something new, this song is the feel of this chapter -- feel free to listen to it before reading or after.
AS Raheem walked Jules back to Parks Hall, the sky wore the color of the night, purple blue hues speckled with twinkling stars. God's canvas had never looked so beautiful, so untouchable.
There was a softness between them that he'd never felt before, like they'd broken through bone and exposed the parts of them that didn't get enough air.
Jules was stubborn, impatient, and presumptuous -- but those weren't the only things that she was. She was also hilarious, unpredictable, ambitious, observant, witty, and an entertaining candidate for pointless debates.
After a while, he couldn't imagine one side of her without the other -- accepting them both because they formed who she was, and he enjoyed who she was, for the most part.
Amador wasn't a city he shared with most because he made an effort to separate it from the Raheem that remained at Baldwin. Yet, bringing people like Marcus and Jules made him believe that the two versions of him could co-exist -- or, that they might even be the same person.
A smile crept upon his face as his sneakers made their way back to Carver, the hoots of owls sounding lightly in the distance of trees that stood like a wall on either side of campus.
As baritone and bass became more apparent, Raheem knew he was getting closer to Carver Hall and was ready for a night's rest from the night's activities.
He was halfway near the entrance before he heard the call of his name, making him turn toward the benches right near the student parking lot. He'd recognized that voice since his childhood, as it belonged to Pine -- one of his father's many men.
Raheem hoped he'd gone a little delirious; that the sound that made him wince was only hallucination from how fatigued he was. Yet, as his gaze met the green eyes of Pine's, he groaned.
Pine was a man with olive skin and a buzz cut that took him through short-lived years of high school and man-hood with Blade. Although bold tattoos lined his neck like a collar, most of them were hidden under the dress shirt he wore tucked into grey slacks.
He was nicer than most of his father's men, being one of the few who didn't look down on him for "punking out" of ascending into the McDaniels throne. Him not taking on as a third generation pusher made him look, "soft" to most.
There was something about tradition that made old heads lose their sense for anything but it. Something new wasn't an option, as it hadn't been proven to work in their favors like the old way did. Yet, how would one know what works if there hadn't been someone brave enough to try?
