❝𝑰 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑳𝑰𝑭𝑬, 𝒀𝑬𝑨𝑯. 𝑫𝑶𝑵'𝑻 𝑫𝑶𝑼𝑩𝑻 𝑰𝑻.❞ — 𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑾𝑶𝑨𝑯.
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
𝓙𝓐𝓗𝓢𝓔𝓗'𝓢 fingers scrolled through Instagram in a search, a search that he desperately wanted to end so he could enjoy his prize. The list of people Stokeley followed was so long though and it was to the point where he had been at it for about fifteen minutes now. This might be impossible, he thought to himself. Something he couldn't understand was why his best friend insisted on following thousands of people as if he knew them all or some shit — Jahseh would lose his mind if his socials were cluttered like that.
A heavy sigh escaped the brown skin boy, the hand that read "KILL ME" rubbing the side of his face as the light from his phone screen illuminated it. His eyes squinted as he saw letters that he was using as clues to look for what it was he wanted, sometimes cussing in his head more when icons of curly headed girls had him thinking he found what it was he was looking for.
This nigga wouldn't follow her on here, dumb ass, cause they've barely talked, he spoke again to himself.
While he continued his hunt Stokeley and Isaiah were bickering which was unusual, the pair getting along all the time for the most part unless they were both in their moods and simply spoke to no one. The reason was because Isaiah had to turn around and return back to Palm Beach much to Stokeley's disliking. It was due to Yazmine, Isaiah's long time girlfriend, being pissed the fuck off big time about some shit. Isaiah didn't want to talk about it to anybody, irritation written all over him and that energy soon rubbing off on his two friends when he asked to be dropped off back home.
The other issue was that plans had been made out in Broward for the weekend all in which Isaiah was included in. The third part of the problem was that Isaiah lived an hour away, so Stokeley spent one hour driving up to his crib to get him and another bringing him back. Now he was wasting another two hours to do it all over again in his little Nissan who's tank was already half empty despite the fact he filled it up completely earlier that afternoon.
To say the least, Stokeley wanted to fight.
"I don't know why yo ass couldn't have just gotten an Uber, I mean...shit. You know goddamn well gas is expensive, look at how low my shit is now!" The boy with the durag exclaimed, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.
"I ain't got the money like that right now, Ski. I'll pay you later, my nigga. But if you was gone bitch about it like this you could've just said no!"
"Say no? So you could hop yo ass on Twitter later and tweet some fake deep shit like you always be doing when you don't get your way?" Stokeley asked rhetorically, smacking his lips. "Yeah, ight."
Jahseh raised his eyebrows and stared at the back of his friends heads with a blank look, quickly returning his eyes back to his screen.
"Fake deep shit? I don't gotta sub you on social media, nigga. You wish you were that important to me."
"Oh, so I'm not important to you? Just important enough for me to be your taxi driver?"
"Nah, see now you just twisting my words. That's not even what I meant. But maybe you shouldn't be important to me, especially since you one cocky ass nigga. Don't help people if you gone hold shit over they head while doing it."
