run of the mill.

6th - 2

But he didn't get any that night.

He distinctly remembered looking at her all dolled up and thinking of all the things he was gonna do when he got her alone and then nearly crying when they got in bed and she gave him her back the entire night. Nearly broke his spirit... she looked really good that night.

Upon his declaration Beyonce unwrapped her arms and moved to stand. Shawn sighed and sucked his teeth a little. "Beyonce," he said trying to hold onto her. He knew where this was going. "Baby don't be like that. Bey."

Beyonce was already up and reaching past him for her purse. "I'm not mad," she said, not even bothering to spare him a glance. She'd gotten up as discreetly as possible, pulling against his strong arms and telling him she wasn't fazed but of course Ty and Yermy saw it. Davone had even smirked at it. She started towards the back of the house where the bedroom was.

"Come'ere," Shawn called from his casual position on the couch but Beyonce didn't even look back at him. She flicked a wrist in the air and continued on her journey. "Baby," she heard him call. She opened the double doors and stepped inside their room, going straight for the closet. She grabbed her black Nike bag and looked around for her workout clothes.

He had been out every night that week and the week before. All he did was come home from practice, sleep off the heavy work out and leave for some event or another. And then when he got home she would get the sloppy leftovers of his slightly drunk attention and when she woke up he would be gone for practice. He was ignoring the fuck outta her and he didn't even see it. She supposed it was because she figured that he believed that if he fucked her three times a week he wasn't ignoring her. Keep her pussy full and she won't notice that she rarely sees him unless she's on her back.

She saw him come into the doorway in the corner of her eye and ignored him as she stuffed her black Nike shorts, black Nike sports bra with the tiny white checkmark on it. She grabbed the matching black jacket and her Lebron James Nike's before getting ready to leave the small room. He was standing with his shoulder leaned against the door frame and blacking the entire exit with his big body.

Beyonce threw her bag on her shoulder and crossed her arms, looking at his chest since that was right in front of her. "Move," she said in a tight voice she was hoping to calm down but she couldn't.

"You mad now?" Shawn asked in a thick voice. A seemingly knowing voice. Beyonce hated when he used that voice on her. It was like he knew something she didn't and enjoyed keeping her out of the big secret loop. His eyes looked like he could see right through her, like he had already won the game and he was just waiting got her to forfeit. And being the competitive, ex-athlete that she was, that pissed her off like nobody's business. Who the hell did he think he was with his smooth talking, good smelling, pretty looking ass?

Still she was determined not to give into him. And when he didn't move her chin rose in the air and she breathed through her tiny nostrils, causing them to flare. "I just said I wasn't mad Carter," she mumbled even though she looked him right in the eyes.

"Then why you callin' me Carter?" he asked in an amused voice that pissed her off a little more than the damn question did.

Beyonce furrowed her eyebrows and looked at him like he was incompetent. "That's your name, what the hell am I suppose to call you?"

"Daddy."

Beyonce sucked her teeth and pushed one of his shoulders, getting past him only because he allowed her too. She still liked to think that she had some sort of power even though he could bench press two of her. She started into the bedroom. "I don't know why the hell you're bothering me when it's clear you wanna be with them," she said in a tight, quiet voice. Beyonce hated to fight with him and when it was unavoidable she was just as stubborn as a mule. But they rarely ever argued because she was so cool about most of the things that would have irked her about other people. Shawn never put the seat down in the bathroom. He always adjusted the position in the Mercedes without telling her. He never slept on his own side of the bed, always cuddled in hers. He fell asleep with the TV on. He left her in bed when he left in the morning. He was too dependent on Rosario.

The list went on and on.

But she loved knowing he was at least competent enough to flush. And she found that the closer she sat to the steering wheel in the Mercedes, the more she sped. And she could hardly sleep without him curled behind her. And now Beyonce liked listening to infomercials while she dozed. And she didn't mind him leaving early in the morning because the greeting in the evening was all the more sweeter. And Rosario was being paid for the services.

She felt him grab her arm and stop her from exiting the room. "Shawn I don't care ok?" she said before she even turned fully around. She looked at him tiredly, like he was less than two feet tall; insignificant in her day. "Do whatever you wanna do. Have fun." Beyonce tried to walk away again and he stopped her.

"Do you want me to stay home?" he asked her somberly.

Beyonce sighed. "I don't care," she said slowly like he was illiterate or something. She was giving him no slack. "Do whatever you want."

Shawn held her hand. "I wanna know what you want me to do."

"... I want you to let go of me."

Shawn only looked at her a second longer. "You are mad." He let her hand go and waited for Beyonce to decide how he wanted to go about what she was proposing to him. He folded his arms across his chest and stared down at her with a fatherly look that made Beyonce feel childish.

"Whatever have fun Shawn," she said waving her hand and leaving. This time Shawn didn't try and stop her and she figured it was because he knew that it would blow over by the time they saw each other again. Usually she would be at the gym for the next three hours and then when she got home, he would be gone for the next six after that. Beyonce walked past the living room and gave weak replies to the men. She left the house and discovered that she didn't want to go to the gym. Instead she pulled up at a movie theater and put her top up, getting out.
Beyonce paid for one ticket to a new black made film she had wanted to see. She ordered a mixed flavored slushy, a box of Bunches-O-Crunches, and a hotdog. Damn the diet. It wasn't making him stay home was it?

Beyonce returned an hour in a half later, to find that Rosario, Shawn, and all of her house guests were gone. The only thing she did have was her porcelain beauty, a bathtub. Beyonce ran a bath and soaked herself, listening to the TV propped up on the wall in front of her. She watched lamely until she started to prune. Rubbing herself down with the essentials and wondering when Shawn would be home, she dressed herself in a grey men's half shirt. It was Shawn's so it was too big but she just wanted something of his, he used those to protect himself from the poking and prodding that came with wearing chest and shoulder gear. She slipped on her underwear and brushed her hair, pinning it up in the back of her head with a bobby-pin.

She slipped in the bed and searched for something to watch. She had to flip through the channels to find infomercials that early in the night but she did after a while. When she fell asleep she was listening to the creations of the Ultimate Chopper.

He wasn't getting any.

Shawn knew he wasn't getting any when he walked into the bedroom and saw the choice of wear. Usually, she didn't bother with a top because she knew it merely got in his way. He grimaced at the site of the grey on her back.

The party was hype and Shawn had a hard time tearing himself away, just like he did with any other party but he was just that way by nature; a party animal. He had almost hoped that he could have stayed longer but he was aware that staying any later would have endangered his health. Or Beyonce would have anyway. Now Beyonce had never been too outrageous with her quiet nagging and demands, and he had planned to keep it that way. She was very similar to his mother now that he thought about it. Her silence was what really fucked you over. That was the real heartbreaker. He hated when she wasn't talking to him. Even for the briefest moments it was torture.

Shawn showered and changed into his boxers for bed. He stepped to the large mattress and noted her far distance. He took in her sloping waist as it rose to her ass and hips in those black and white boy style underwear. Shawn lay down and covered his face with a forearm.

He had had hoochies grinding on his dick all night in hopes that he would get home and handle it. What the fuck was he thinking about?

I shoulda fuckin' stayed home. Be balls deep in hot pussy if I'd a just stayed the fuck home...