The Price ࿊f Peace

☮️: 015

⚠️
Somewhere in Oakland

It was about a half hour later and Syara was still sat on the couch in her previous position, rubbing her jaw where Elijah had held it.

It didn't hurt, it was just the feeling of fingers pressing into her flesh.

She couldn't say she wasn't surprised.

Usually, when she would pop it at the mouth with him, he'd just respond, go back and forth with her, but as of late, there was a new feel to him.

He was far different than when they were in high school.

Back in high school, they'd go back and forth daily, arguing every time they'd see each other.

Usually, he'd start with her, keep poking at her, then she'd get fed up and respond, and he'd respond, then boom, they were back at it like cats and dogs.

But in the past few times she'd seen him recently, he was more.. mature? He was less inclined to go back and forth with her, letting her have it more.

When they were younger, they were hurtful. Every jab was meant to cut deep and it did sometimes. On both ends.

The tables had turned and she didn't know how to feel about it, to be honest. Instead of arguing back, he was trying to deescalate the situation. But he was still starting with her.

Or...maybe he wasn't starting. Maybe he was just being a dick.

Syara just continued rubbing under her jaw where he had held her, a slight annoyed look on her face. She didn't know why she froze up when he got so close.

Her eyes had found his and she was just lost. That shit was embarrassing as fuck.

Usually, she'd pull her pistol before a nigga could even get that close to her. That or she would've swung.

She knew she wasn't scared of him, so what the fuck was the problem.

No man, nor woman, had ever put her in any kind of place, even the men who broke her jaw. She had no place, she was just Cuban. Ocho. Meek.

She was just her.

And if you didn't like it, you could suck a dick.

She lived by that, so why did this man just have her speechless without barely even touching her?

She didn't know how to feel right now.

The front door opened again, interrupting her inner monologue.

In walked Money. He opened the rotted door with ease, pushing through it with two bags of food in his other hand.

Money immediately made eye contact with Syara who was still sulking a little bit, her hand whipped down, away from the jaw she was just rubbing. Her eyes were set ablaze and her lip was curled a little in distaste.

He looked at her for a moment more, mugging her back before breathing out silently and heading to the back with the bags of food.

Syara continued to mug the spot he was just standing at in... embarrassment, distaste, annoyance? She honestly couldn't tell you.

But he returned a few minutes later with a take out container in one hand, a fork in the other, and a bag of food hanging from his hand that was holding the container, huffing a little through his nostrils in annoyance.