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CHAPTER ONE
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UNSETTLED
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The night's cold grip tightens around the city as Omari rolls up to Uncle Clare's place, the dim glow from the streetlights casting long shadows ahead of him. Their Friday night sessions are more than tradition; they're the foundation of a bond built on something deeper than blood.
Clarence eyes him with a mix that's half worry, half challenge. "How's school? You ain't messin' up again, are ya?"
Omari lets a smirk slip, dripping with a cool confidence. "Nah, not entirely. It's lookin' up, way better than it was."
But Clarence ain't having it, his concern etched deep. "'Kinda'? Don't be bringin' that nonsense back here, man. I mean it."
Shaking his head with a chuckle, Omari reassures him. "Nah, it ain't like that. You'd be trippin' if I told you. Just some stupid ass drama."
Clarence plants himself firmly, ready for whatever Omari's about to unload. "Nah, spill. What kinda shit you in now?"
Omari throws out a name like it's a live grenade. "You remember Malik?" Just the mention brings back a flood of wild memories.
Clarence can't help but let out a hearty laugh, a brief respite from the tension. "That nigga? Straight-up chaos, that one."
Omari gets closer, the story itching to break free. "This crazy mo'fucka rolled up on me, went after Mekhi with a blade, and yo, shit gets crazier."
The smile fades from Clarence's face, replaced by a look of anticipation. "This niggas nuts. What went down?"
Omari dives into it. "Turns out we were both tangled up with the same girl. Fucked up, right?"
The humor drains from Clarence's expression, turning stone-cold serious. "Sounds like she was playin' games. What the hell?"
Exhaling a heavy sigh, Omari's caught in the mix. "Talked to ha' yesterday, and she's acting like it's all coincidence. Shit's got me twisted, but I dunno..."
Clarence cuts through the confusion with a firm tone, his advice solid as concrete. "Man, keep away from her. That kinda drama's only finna drag you down. You been doin' good, right? Keep ya' head where it needs to be. For real. Don't let these b*tches be yo' downfall."
Omari stands there, letting the weight of those words sink in. The night seems to press in closer, forcing him to face the crossroads ahead.
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Omari's cruising through the streets, his ride humming beneath him, when his phone lights up. It's Thaina on the line.
"Yo," Omari barks into the phone, his voice rough around the edges.
"Well damn. You forgot to pull up tonight? You never gon change with the standing me up thing," Thaina snaps back, frustration clear as she runs a brush through her hair, a hello kitty brush in her grip.
"Shit, well I had some stuff to handle. Can't make everything 'bout you. Gang," Omari fires back, his tone sharper than needed.
"I don't know who you're talking to like that. I'm not gonna beg nobody to chill with me. I don't even know why I bothe—" Thaina cuts herself off mid-rant, ending the call abruptly.
"Nigga, what the fuck?" Mekhi, catching every bit of the exchange, throws a disbelieving look at Omari.
"What." Omari snaps, irritation painting his face as he glances at Mekhi.
"That's how you talk to somebody who wanna fuck wit' you? You outta line yo." Mekhi shakes his head, disappointment heavy in his gaze as he settles back into his seat.
Omari's hands are practically crushing the steering wheel, the night outside rushing by in a blur of indifference. "The whole thing with Thaina and Malik? Shit's got me all kinds of fucked up. Supposed to just forget about it?"
Mekhi glances his way, unflinching. "You acting like you ain't just chop it up wit' ha yesterday. You good in the head? Ain't nobody's past clean, we was all cool wit' Malik at one point. Thaina and Malik—that's old news. I saw that shit wit' my own eyes that she was just as confused as you. You're bugging over nothing."
Omari's response is sharp, a clear edge of frustration in his voice. "It's 'bout trust, Mekhi. How you expect me to act like nothing's wrong? Shit ain't simple."
Mekhi meets his intensity, undeterred. "She fuck wit' you now. That's gotta count for something, right? Don't let Malik's old news fuck up what you got, you tryna act like you past it when you not."
The tension between them is palpable, a standoff of sorts. Omari's caught in a moment of introspection, Mekhi's words hitting harder than expected.
As Mekhi steps out of the car, he throws one last thought over his shoulder. "I'm bout to chill wit' the guys on the block. Hit me if you jackin' us. And stop being a dickhead nigga that shit not cute."
Left alone, Omari sits in contemplation, the silence of the car amplifying Mekhi's departure. It's a crossroads, the choice stark and demanding—linger in the shadows of what was, or step into the potential of what could be.
—
Omari's frustration boils over after being sent straight to voicemail. "Man, suck my dick!" he grumbles, the anger in his voice clear and cutting. Being ignored by Thaina, especially now, just fuels his irritation.
He's holding his phone so tightly it's a wonder it doesn't break. The silence from Thaina, not hearing back from her, only adds to the mounting tension.
"This some straight-up bullshit," he says to the empty car, his words sharp. Thaina's avoidance is getting to him, leaving him stewing in a mix of emotions.
With a frustrated growl, he ends the attempt to reach her, his hand acting on its own as he tosses the phone onto the passenger seat. It lands with a thud, the sound echoing in the quiet of the car.
"Fuck it," he resolves, the anger in his voice simmering down into determination. The night stretches out before him, filled with decisions to be made.
He slams his hand against the steering wheel in a final expression of his frustration, the sound echoing in the confined space, marking the end of the night's unresolved tensions.
