Imagine getting a call that YOU were chosen to be signed to a record label. Also imagine having to stop your reality just to become someone and something you're not. Having fame is not easy and some people regret making that decision.
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My legs were weak, my thighs ached, and my whole body was sore from last night. I felt the sheets in my hand, Tryce wasn't next me.
I sniffed out some bacon from the kitchen and tried my hardest to get up from the bed. Forcing myself, I threw my legs over the edge of the bed and tried to stand up.
And ended up on the floor.
"Dream, baby, you aight in there?" I heard Tryce's voice yell out.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I blew out air and just laid on the floor before getting back up.
"Awe," I heard him whine and his footsteps grew louder as he moved towards me. "I done crippled my lil' baby,"
"Shut up and help me up," I scolded him, looking up at his shirtless body.
"Come on," he grabbed my hand, pulling me up and helping me stand on my two feet.
The pressure on my legs was tense but not too much to bear. We had sex for hours last night and when I say I never seen someone with so much stamina, Tryce was like a battery.
A fully charged one.
I followed him into the kitchen, where he was cooking up a huge breakfast.
There was french toast, eggs, hash browns, and bacon. Waking up to food was one of the best feelings in the world.
"Yo' album number one on the charts, thought I'd congratulate you with breakfast in bed but yo' hungry ass was ready to eat," he snickered moving the scrambled eggs around in the pan.
"Number one? Already?" I exclaimed, my eyebrows reaching for my hairline. "How?"
"Cause it's some quality ass shit baby. I told you nothing but good things was gone come from it," he turned off the stove and began to fix our plates.
I listened to him as he hummed one of our songs. He handed me my plate full of food and stood across from me.
"What you got planned for the day?" He asked as he dug into his dish.
