When The Sun Rises | ✔

14 | Lift a Titty

Chapter 14 | Lift A Titty

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        Mumbling a quick thank you to the uber nigga, I head for the front door. I pull out my house key, twist it in the lock, and glance over my shoulder. He's still parked in the driveway waiting for me to walk inside. 

        I push the door open and step into the chilled air of the house; Mr. Paul never lets the temperature rise even the slightest notch above sixty-eight. While the rest of us be walking around in sweats cold as hell, he stays in thin ass t-shirts like he's spring-breaking in damn Miami.

        I close the door behind me, not daring to steal another glimpse as he rolls backward out of the driveway.

        "And where were you," Donovan demands. I ignore him and go up the stairs to my room, annoyance doubling when I hear his footsteps trailing behind me. This ain't the time for him to bother me.

        I stop in my tracks, turning to face him. "If I wasn't in such a bad mood, I would have the energy to tell you that your breath smells like a damn earring back, but I'm tired as hell. So if you don't mind, I'd like to be left alone. In my room. Where it's quiet."  

        "Well damn, Kei– "

        I shut the door in his face before he can gather a comeback. I am not in the mood to go back and forth with him. I kick my shoes off, not caring where they land and fall back into my bed. 

        Draping my arms across my face, I try not to think about the one thing my mind is determined to dwell on. But I already know the only thing that's going to keep me from spending the next five hours dissecting every fucking detail of the call is some sort of distraction. From the laughter in the background, the tremor in her voice, the weakness in mine.

        I grab my phone and scroll through my contacts in search of the one person who can get the job done. Xo. But do I really feel like dealing with her foolishness? My mind drifts to thoughts of sirens and old football jerseys and I press the green phone logo, cutting off all second and third thoughts. 

        The phone only rings twice. "Hey, whore." 

        I roll my eyes, but it's not like I expected anything different. In the few weeks it's been since she went back to New York, we've kept in touch. Mostly because of her obsessive need to call me every night with a full rundown of her day, refusing to leave out even the most minute of details.

        By the time she finishes, I know everything from what she had for breakfast to what shade of yellow her piss was. I ignored her calls the first few days. I didn't want anything to do with Greg and all she did was remind me of how much I can't stand his slimey ass. But, I learned quick that Xo ain't one to be ignored. She's the type to keep calling until you pick up, and when you finally do she's talking normal like you don't have fifty 'leven missed call notifications from her sitting in your phone.

        "Do you always have to answer the phone like that?" 

        "Like what?" 

        "Hey, whore," I mock. "Can't you answer like a normal person? For example, hi, hello, how are you. Any of those would work." 

        "And all of those are mad dry so I'll pass. But anyways wassup? Because you never call me. Must be stuffed in somebody's trunk or something. And I hope you not because if you are, then you wasted your one phone call on the wrong person. I ain't Liam Neeson, bitch. I ain't about to be on no Black Ops shit to find yo ass."