This is the sequel to Heart Ain't a Brain. If you haven't, read that first!
They say don't fall in love, it's a mistake.
The trajectory of one's life can change in the blink of an eye. So what happens when a series of tragic events changes the cour...
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We can take our time, what's the rush? You can bring a friend, girl, I don't judge You know I'm a freak, got me tryna eat it up Shawty, I'm a trick, I'll get you what you want
"When I tell you that nigga turned around so fuckin' fast, it barely registered until I heard him pimp slap the fuck out of Juan Carlos," Dominic snickered, his fingers tapping rapidly against the controller as he maneuvered his character through the crumbling remains of a war-torn building in Call of Duty. His squad had just been ambushed, but the chaos of the game was nothing compared to the wild shit he was telling Kasim. He didn't even get the chance to tell him about it when it happened—not with all the bullshit Kevin pulled that day.
"Nah! Not this nigga getting abused on the job!" Kasim cackled, his laughter echoing through the AirPod Dominic had in his left ear. The sheer absurdity of the situation had him damn near wheezing.
Dominic smirked, leaning forward on the couch as he ducked behind cover, switching his rifle for a grenade. "Nigga, that's what I'm sayin'! " He flicked the grenade over a barricade, watching as an enemy soldier exploded into a mess of limbs and debris. Kill confirmed. He barely even reacted—his mind was still on the slap heard 'round the warehouse. It had been playing on an endless loop in his head since it happened, making him burst out laughing at random times throughout the day.
"That couldn't have been that nigga's first time hittin' that man," Dominic continued, his voice shaking with laughter as he adjusted his aim and let off a few rounds at an enemy sniper in the distance. "That slap came too natural, bruh. Like—nigga ain't even hesitate. Whole motion was fluid. You would've thought he rehearsed that shit."
Kasim wheezed. "Nigga been practicin' in the mirror."
"Man—deadass." Dominic grinned, shaking his head as he reloaded. "Juan Carlos ain't even get a chance to react. Nigga just stood there, processing his life choices."
Kasim was damn near screaming through Dominic's AirPod now. "This nigga got his ass beat by a palm! Ain't no way!"
Dominic laughed so hard he almost lost focus as an enemy tried to rush him—he barely managed to swing his aim in time, spraying bullets until the guy dropped. His screen flashed Victory, but he was too busy wiping tears from his eyes to even celebrate from laughing so hard.
The weed he had smoked earlier wasn't helping—not one damn bit. If anything, it was making everything ten times funnier than it actually was. His high had settled into that perfect sweet spot, where the world felt just a little too vivid, and laughter bubbled up from his chest before he could even process why. Every word Kasim said sent him into another fit of cackles, his body damn near vibrating from how hard he was laughing.
His eyes burned with unshed tears, his face sore from grinning so much, but he couldn't stop. The image of Juan Carlos getting his soul slapped out of his body kept replaying in his head like a perfectly timed GIF—rewind, play, rewind, play. The way that man just stood there after, stunned into silence, like his brain needed a full system reboot? That shit was killing him.
