He's That Thug

♥ Chapter Seven ♥

I woke up with a raging headache and a sour mood. That dream was...so surreal. I don't know which part got to me more. The part with my father...or with Anthony. Speaking of...the bed was empty, besides me.

I yawned and stood up, stretching my arms over my head. The shirt raised up a little revealing my thighs, and I pulled it down to it's rightful place. 

I then went into his drawer to get a pair of sweatpants. They were grey and a little baggy, but it looked cute on me so whatever. I skipped down the steps and arubtly stopped when I saw Anthony standing over a pan, a spatula in his hand.

"He cooks," I mused, sitting down in a chair. "Interesting."

Anthony turns and gives me a crooked smile. J. Cole suddenly popped in my head. I smirked to myself.

"What did you dream about?" Anthony questioned, softly. "Sounded upsetting."

I frowned. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

He shrugged. "Couldn't be too sure."

I gave him a blank look. "Thanks."

He laughed and continued making breakfast. "You didn't answer my question. What did you dream about?"

I sigh. "Just a stupid nightmare. Drop it, will you?"

"No."

"Then I'm out." I stood up, ready to leave. I didn't have to deal with this bullshit.

Apparently, Anthony was just as sick of me as I was of his questions. "Yo, why the fuck you always gotta act like a bitch? A nigga's just trying to help."

"Yeah? Well maybe a nigga needs to mind his Goddamned business!" He was getting me fed. Who the fuck he think he is?  "Shit, why you care so much anyway?"

He threw the spatula down in anger and spun to face me. "Let me get one thing clear. I do not care. I dont a single, double, nor triple fuck about you. So dont get any ideas. All I want from you is sex."

I felt like I'd been slapped. Maybe he should feel like that too. I slapped him. His head jerked to the side at the force. I glared at him, anger and hated evident on my face.

"Go to hell."

He leaned in. "Meet you there."

After a few more curse words thrown at each other, I dumped his food on the floor and walked out. He was such an ass. I rolled my eyes and stomped down the block. There was no way I was going home. So instead, I started walking towards Symone's house. She lived a few blocks away.

Five minutes of quiet and time to think, a black Sedan with tinted windows pulled up next to me.

"Ayo, ma," a male voice called. I paused. "You know Anthony? I seen you talk to him at school and on ya porch."

I looked at the speaker. He was black, and had a thuggish look to him. He had a blunt in his mouth and was looking me up and down, checking me out. He blem smoke out the window and smirked.

I shrug. "Yeah. What of it?"

The guy's eyes were cold. He freaked me out. "I'm a friend of his. Tell him I got some business we need to talk about."

Realization dawned on me. "Oh you a fellow gang member, aren't you?" I rolled my eyes. "Please, nigga, you can tell him yourself."

He glared at me and I saw his fingers twitch. "I would watch the way you speak to me if I were you."

"I'm not scared of your punk ass. Go bother some next bitch." I was nearing Symone's house.

The car stopped and he jumped out. His black hoodie blew in the wind, revealing the gun hidden in his waistband. My eyes widened and I took a step back.

"Whatchu said?" He spat.

I shook my head. "N-nothing. I didn't say nothing. I'll pass on your message."

The boy lightly touched my face and I flinched. "Good girl. See you around, Roxanne."

He hopped back in the car and it sped away, leaving me in the dust.

How the hell did this nigga know my name?