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Chapter Eight - Waffle House
I was jolted awake, facing the blurry sight of the person waking me up. I could see the deep blue outside light streaming from the blind, telling me that it was barely morning. When my vision fully returned, Syncere's handsome face was staring down at me, fully clothed in a black jacket and matching shorts.
I felt my blood boil when I realized he woke me up from a good dream. "Fuck you waking me up for." I said in my whiny morning voice, turning around and hiding my face under the covers.
"Get up," He shook me again. "We got to begin your treatment, remember?"
He was really waking me up to this bull shit? I don't know if I could get used to having Syncere around like this. Sure, he's cute but I need my sleep. He can go ahead and pack his stuff if this is gonna become a permanent thing.
"Syncere," I said in a more serious tone, not even pulling my face from the covers. "If you don't take yo ass back to sleep, all five of my fingers and my elbow is going across yo face."
When I heard nothing else I thought he finally gave in, but next thing I knew, the comforter was getting ripped off of me, immediately dropping my body temperature down to freezing. I jolted my body up, ready to pounce on him while he still kept an unfazed expression.
"The first step to changing your life is changing your habits," He said. "When you wake up early, you get a head start on the day that everyone else takes advantage of."
He clapped hurriedly at me, prying the curtains open to try and burn the sleepiness out of my body. This dude had too much energy for me. Something told me he was really going to have me wake up every morning for this treatment journey shit.
"Can't I just sleep for a little longer? This is stupid."
"If you get up you might get some free Waffle House out of me."
I haven't gotten out of bed so fast. Ever since I became an adult, money has been scarce, so mainly breakfast has been cereal or bologna sandwiches back when me and my boys were on our own together. The offer of a full course breakfast meal was too good to pass up.
I most definitely made that nigga pinky promise me too. I treat those like life contracts.
"Good. Get dressed in something you don't mind getting sweaty in."
...
Besides running from the cops or after I turn off a light in a room, I don't remember willingly running for fun. Syncere insisted that starting off mornings with a good jog was good for me. It took a lot of convincing and reminding me of the free breakfast I was getting out of it to get me to comply.
Ms. Chantelle's house was close to town, so it didn't take long for us to get to the heart of Albany.
Small buildings attached to each other and tiny trees stretched alongside the sidewalk, providing natural touch. Street lights were still glowing under the deep morning blue sky, while some of the shops along the strip were still closed. But we could see some light inside the buildings as people were preparing to open for yet another day of business.
