Basquiat.

chapter twelve.

(Please excuse any spelling errors, I was anxious to get you guys a new chapter. Enjoy!)

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Masika

I strutted down the narrow halls of the airport, while enjoying the soothing sound of my country's music through my headphones.

Mr. Alsina, could show up any given moment or could choose to not come at all, and not knowing was killing me.

My music was interrupted by my phone's sudden ringing.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, love. How are you?"

"Hey, Broderick. Oh, I'm fine. How are you?"

"I'm great- hey, did you make it to the airport?"

"Yeah, I did."

"And this teacher of yours, is he still accompanying you?"

"Mhm."

"Are you sure he's suitable enough to go with you? I mean, your safety is what's important.

"I'm a hundred percent positive, I'm capable of handling myself, Brod."

"It's not you that I'm worried about, it's him."

"I'll be fine."

"Okay, well, I guess I won't hold you any longer on the phone. Have a safe flight, and call me as soon as you land.

"Will do."

August

I paced back and forth across the men's restroom hyperventilating.

I couldn't seem to understand why she wanted me to go with her. She passed up all of her friends and family for me, an incompetent art teacher.

I unzipped my luggage, retrieved my medication, and swallowed three pills with a handful of water from the sink.

"You can do this, August," I coached.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror and felt worthless.