Chapter 9

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Marcqwuan's POV:

"If you want your coffee, you have to give me a hug first," I say, trying to contain my laughter

"You're an asshole, give me my coffee," she says, walking towards me with her hand out.

I'm studying her body language and listening to her tone to make sure her walking towards me doesn't mean I'm in danger. Luckily for me, it sounds like she's trying to hold in her laughter and stay mad at me. Luckily she's only 5'1 and with me being 5'9 all I need to do is just put the coffee above my head so she couldn't reach it.

"I'm serious, hug first. I understand you and Kendrick get mad at each other and just walk away without talking and sometimes go days without talking to each other, but I don't want that for us. No more toxic shit. We communicate when we have negative emotions with one another, and if emotions are too high we take 20 minutes on the opposite end of the couch and cool off. Then, we meet in the middle when we're ready to communicate," I say sincerely while looking her in her eyes so she understands that I'm serious.

"I'm terrible at communicating," she states in a sad tone, looking away as if she's embarrassed

"I've heard you go into great detail about the sex you've had with Kendrick. You're not terrible at communicating." I say, trying to hold in my laugh knowing she's about to make up an excuse.

"I'm terrible at communicating my feelings, that's completely different asshole!" she says, laughing causing her to raise her voice

"Well, now is a good time to learn. My therapist tells me that writing it down can sometimes be easier than expressing it verbally. So sit on the opposite end on the couch and send it to me in a text. After you send it in the text then we meet in the middle, but we don't leave the couch."

"What's up with you and this couch?" she asks

"The couch is in the middle of the apartment. I think it's a great symbol of safety and togetherness."

We live in a two-bedroom apartment. The first thing you notice is the soft glow of afternoon light filtering through the open space concept through the glass doors that lead to the balcony. Sunlight dances across the warm gray Cali-oceanic oak floors. In the center of the living room, a black rectangular coffee table in between a sleek 65" flat-screen TV mounted on the wall and a plush gray couch that sits up against the wall. The couch with its three soft fabrics and

cushioned seats that you melt into immediately upon sitting.

Behind the couch and TV, clean white walls catch and amplify the natural light streaming in from the balcony, bathing the entire open-concept living area in a soft glow. The living room flows seamlessly into the kitchen, which sits to the right as you step inside the apartment. Gray granite countertops define the boundary between the two spaces, with an inviting open bar perfect for casual conversations or quick meals. The kitchen's stainless steel appliances shine subtly in the warm light, complementing the earthy tones of the room. Its open layout makes it easy to chat with friends lounging on the couch or stepping out onto the balcony while you prepare a meal, creating a welcoming hub at the heart of the home. Just off the living room, two slender hallways at opposite ends of the apartment lead to the bedrooms, offering a sense of seclusion within the shared space. The wall behind the couch separates the living room from my room, while the wall behind the flat-screen TV sets Jasmine's room apart. The strategic layout, with our rooms on opposite sides of the apartment, gives us each a private retreat, balancing personal sanctuaries within the comfort of a cozy, secluded environment. This seemed like a good idea at the time before I realized I loved listening to Jasmne getting fucked.

"I surprisingly like that," she mumbles, her voice rattling with shock and pleasure.

"Now give me my hug," I yell grinning from ear to ear, hoping my smile will disarm her anger

"Bite me." she says, giggling like a schoolgirl

"Don't threaten me with a good time." I yell even louder embracing her with a tight hug, thinking to myself that we were able to dodge a bullet

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