The Price ࿊f Peace

☮️: 026

Somewhere in Oakland
Saturday May 18th, 2024

Syara stared down at her phone in frustration, deleting yet another drafted message, intending to send it to Kisses.

She was trying to find a way to ask what she should do without giving away too much information about her situation.

It had been two days since she'd seen Elijah. Two days since they'd defiled Kisses' bathroom. Two days since she'd spoken to him.

She didn't at all know how to go about seeing him. She was literally freaking out as she sat on the couch of the bando, getting ready to count the money.

Has she mentioned that she'd never felt like this before? This nigga was making her wanna stand down and that just wasn't in her nature.

"You good?" Hooty asked her, snapping her out of her stupor.

"What?" She jumped. "I'm coo', nigga. Is you coo'?"

Hooty took a sip from his bendy straw, his cup making an extremely annoying sound as he drained the last of his drink.

"Mm." He sounded, pulling the straw from his mouth. "Something wrong wit' you."

"What?" She scrunched her face up at him, pitching her voice up in annoyance.

"I'm saying, cuh," Hooty motioned toward her, "you all zoning and shit, you been spaced out for like 10 minutes in the same spot."

"You on drugs, Cuban?" He gasped, genuinely concerned.

"Move, nigga." Syara swatted his finger as he tried to poke her cheek. "Hooty, get the hell outta my face."

Hooty shrugged, backing away. "Okay... I'm just saying."

Syara only shook her head, swiping out of her Messages app to go to YouTube music. She might as well play some music to distract her from thinking about him.

Every time she had a little down time, her mind would drift back to him. It was annoying to say the least, especially when the thought of their incident in the bathroom immediately made her horny.

She pressed shuffle on her "🌎" playlist, allowing Poetic Justice to hit her ears as soon as she pressed play.

Syara counted the first stack by hand before placing it in the money counter, writing down the amount of cash on a notepad.

She went to the next stack, counting up, re-counting up, then jotting down. She didn't the same again and again until she had gotten to the last stack.

And still no Elijah.

Syara wasn't no lying ass bitch. She hoped to see him today. She wasn't going soft all the way, she just...y'know.

...ew.

Syara was disgusted with herself. She had never in her life tripped this hard about a nigga. Like ever. This was despicable. She was supposed to be minty fresh on these niggas and here she was tender.

This was a gross miscalculation. There had to be something wrong. Maybe Hooty was right, maybe she got laced or something.

This couldn't be her.

To be fair, however, no man had ever made her feel like he did. Or had her shaking like that. Or had her in the type of position, period.

That wasn't saying much, though, Syara was a virgin. The most she'd done was make out, and even then, she was the one in charge, she was always on top.

This man had her begging him and he hadn't even touched her for real.

Syara stood from where she was seated, gathering the money up, and placing it back in the duffel it was in. She sighed, carrying it back to the secret compartment in the broken kitchen cabinet, stuffing it where it needed to go, and grabbing her belongings.