TIED IN FATE 𓍯

𝐂𝐇𝐏•𝟑

{Saturday}

It was like 5 PM, and Yasmine was rushing out the house, getting ready for her night shift.

I sat on the couch, watching 'Baddies' on my laptop.

She paused by the door and turned to me, "Des"

"Hmm?"

"Amaris is swingin' by again. The shelf he put up is wonky, and he's vexed about it," she said.

I looked up, pausing my show. "Already? He was just here yesterday."

"Not my fault the brudda's a perfectionist" she replied, shrugging.

I sighed and nodded. "Ite, say nuttin."

As Yasmine left, I resumed my show.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a call from Tyler, my boyfriend.

"Hey, babe," I answered, smiling.

"Mamas, wha' you doing today?" Tyler's voice was comforting after a long-ass week.

"Just chilling at yard. Ian got lectures today," I replied.

"Calm. I'm rolling through," he said, cutting the call before I could even respond.

Excitement washed over me. I hadn't seen him in forever. I quickly cleaned up the living room. A couple minutes later the doorbell rang.

Tyler stood there, filling the doorway with his fine ass. His smile alone could make me weak.

"Hey, beautiful," he murmured, stepping in for a quick kiss.

"Hey," I murmured back, pulling him close. We fell onto the couch and we immediately started snuggling and lipsing under the covers.

The door swung open. I peeked over to see Amaris strolling in with his toolbox.

"Don't stress," he said with a smirk. "I'll be out before you know it."

Tyler's body tensed beside me. "Who's that?" he asked, his tone changing.

"Yasmine's brother, innit" I explained. "He's been here to fix stuff"

Tyler frowned. "So, y'all met before?"

"Yeah, but he's safe," I said, trying to diffuse the situation.

Tyler sat up, glaring at me. "I don't want you around him."

I sighed, frustrated. "Ty, I literally can't help if Yaz invites her own brother."

"I don't give a fuck. I don't want him around you," Tyler insisted, his voice rising.

"You're moving bare insecure right now. Amaris ain't a threat." I shot back.

Before Tyler could fire back, his phone rang. He answered, pacing the room. After the brief, tense conversation, he hung up and turned to me.

"I gotta go handle something," he said, heading for the door. "But you better step off that brudda."