Talk To Me | •Slow Down Sequel•

Chapter 3- BRUH, IS YOU SERIOUS?

Ayona

I opened the door, a glare already set on my face, "I'm going to have to get you a key or something cause you're not going to have me getting up late at night-" he smirked, not a word fell from his lips. "Just cause you get off work whenever."

I stood in the doorway, as I tried my best to keep my facade which was slowly starting to dissolve when he licked his lips, all while he looked me up and down. "You and that attitude a yours." He shook his head, tsking. "We gone have to do something about that," he smiled mischievously.

When it was clear I wouldn't back down by intimidation, he chuckled. "You hard-headed... Ight," he surrendered, throwing his hands in the air. "I'm sorry, I should've hit you up when I found out I wouldn't be getting off early-"

"That's not even the issue, you need to be letting me know, that you plan on staying over, periodt. Not waiting till you stuck on my doorstep before you decide to use your cellular device."

He nodded his head, "Yea, ight. I hear you. You gone let me in?" I roll my eyes at him, "Next time, I'm gone ignore your ass." I took a step back, letting him in the apartment. He snickered, "No worries, you ain't gone be talking all that shit after I put this tongue on you."

I felt chills go down my back, but I shrugged them off. As enticing as that sounded, I'd just been so damn tired. I turned on my heels, my legs guiding me back to my room.

"If you hungry, I fixed you a plate. It's in the microwave. Enjoy luv." I informed over my shoulder as we walked passed the kitchen. "I'm going to bed," I murmured before I turned down the hallway towards my room.

"Ayona, I ever tell you what a bomb ass female you is?!" I heard him pop the microwave open, the plate scrapping against the glass tray. I assumed was so that he could see what the plate contained.

"Mhmm, yea. I hear you," I mumbled as I pulled the covers back, climbing into my extremely comfortable bed. For months, my back had been killing me not to mention how sore my feet were, but I guess that was unavoidable since I'd been buried in working myself to death.

I exhaled loudly, getting myself in a comfortable position before I tucked myself under the comforters. The TV was on, but I'd only kept it on as background noise before I'd fallen asleep earlier.

Minutes later, I was drifting. Drifting so close to sleep, that when he came into the room and loudly sat his plate on the dresser, I almost had a heart attack.

"Don't tell me you going to sleep, shawty."

I rolled my eyes annoyed, not only was that about to be the best sleep of all time, but he had the audacity to bring his food into the room. "What I say about you bringing food in here? These is white sheets and I'd rather not have to get them washed literally two days after I already washed them."

"Ight, ight. Chill. I'm gone sit rig-" He reached to grab his fork, missing, instead his wrist collided with it. The fork flew into the air and right onto my sheets.

"Khalil! Are you deadass right now?!!" I strained. It felt as though a vessel was ready to pop in my forehead. He turned his head to look my way, a look of guilt passed over his handsome features.

"I ain't ev-"

"Just take your food in the damn dining room, while I clean this shit up." After he left the room, I groaned looking at the green stain from the collard greens.

"This fucking nigga. All I wanted to do was sleep, that's a-."Just then, my phone started to ring. I glanced at it. Who could possibly be hitting me up, late this night?