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"LET ME get one of your shrimp ," Tabatha said, reaching for Treavon's bag.
Treavon smacked her hand away, eyes narrowing. "Fuck away from my shit. You got the same thing as me, bro," he snapped, pulling his bag closer.
"Yeah, but they gave you more shrimp than me," Tabatha argued, a pout forming on her lips.
The group had decided to dine at a renowned seafood restaurant, famous for its mouth-watering dishes. The aroma of garlic butter and fresh seafood filled the air, tantalizing their senses. Kya savored every bite, thinking it was the best seafood she'd had in ages.
Kya, however, was lost in her own world, her mind replaying the moment a random girl had answered Dayvon's phone. The unanswered questions gnawed at her, and Von's silence only fueled her frustration. She was tempted to confront him, but she reminded herself she was here to relax, not stress over Dayvon's actions back home.
"I'm probably finna go buy me another bag 'cause they did me so wrong with this little ass portion," Tabatha said, shaking her head. She licked the tangy sauce off her fingers, her eyes darting toward the counter.
"Tabby, we should go shopping after this," Kya said, savoring one of her jumbo shrimp.
"Not you already forgetting about me, I see. Tabatha is your favorite," Treavon replied, his voice tinged with mock hurt.
Tabatha laughed "You jealous?"
Yeah, but you don't need to know that, Treavon thought to himself, feeling a pang of insecurity.
"Nah, I'm just saying that you always talk to her more than me," Treavon shrugged, trying to keep his tone casual.
"What? That's not true," Kya protested, her brow furrowing slightly.
Treavon scoffed, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "Really? Because when Tabatha asked if she could talk to you, you said yes right away and even invited her over. But when I ask, it's always 'I can't do this right now.' I'm not mad I'm just stating the obvious."
Kya fell silent, her gaze dropping to her plate. He was kind of right, but she wasn't about to admit it. They were supposed to be a trio, equal in every way.
"Treavon, you picked the wrong time to say that. Can you just enjoy your meal and shut up?" Tabatha interjected, her tone sharp. She could feel the tension rising and didn't want it to ruin their evening.
Treavon's shoulders slumped as he stood up. The lively chatter and clinking cutlery of the restaurant faded into the background. He didn't feel like eating anymore, the weight of his own words settling heavily in his chest. He could only blame himself; he always seemed to say the wrong things at the wrong time.
