Urban - Four individuals going through different aspects of life. Each going through their own struggles surrounding Lyrewood - HARDAWAY.
VOLUME ONE - Carmen Richardson. Kylan Burgess. Aalea Jimenez. Marshay Hayes.
VOLUME TWO - Asia Jimenez. Sharif...
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A win against Lawton. I sauntered out of the high school beside Marshay in our cheer uniforms thats white, black and red. The tops had a sweetheart-neck with Hawks on the front and diagonal design. Our skirts were panel A-line stopping mid-thigh. My hair brushed up in a high ponytail with a white bow. Orange hue streetlight illuminated on us in the night sky. My white cheer shoes padded against the concrete pathway leading to the bus.
My eyes landed on DeAndre, who glanced Marshay with a certain look in his brown eyes. She only rolled her eyes hardly. We walked passed him as Coach Burgess approached him.
"Hey," I nudged her arm. "You guys have history?"
She chuckled, "one I wish I never allowed to happen, yes. But it's history."
"Hey, we all have history."
We both stepped on the bus, the ceiling lights lit up the inside. I stopped Sharif in the back of the bus talking with his teammates and cheerleaders. Marshay and I sat in our usual seats, a few seats from the front and across from each other. Everyone knows the back of the bus is the loudest. Don't want to deal with that.
DeAndre walked on the bus, joining them in the very back and followed by Coach Burgess, who seated in the front seats with our cheer coach and Coach Shawn. Doors closed and the bus driver start taking off when the lights shut off and semi-darkness took over the bus.
My head rested against the window, eyelids shut in exhaustion. I felt someone sit down beside me and a kiss planting on the side of my neck. I jumped a little and opened my eyes to Sharif.
"Don't do that," I hit his arm as he chuckled and kissed my lips.
"Why you ain't come back there?" His baritone voice asked.
"I ain't sitting back there."
He pulled my legs on top of his lap. "Why? I'm back there."
"And? I don't fuck with them."
"You so mean, Chula." He rested his head on my shoulder.
Lyrewood High. We walked off the bus one by one after the long drive. Marshay waved at me when she spotted her mother's car parked. Of course, my ride wasn't there which annoyed me. I pulled out my phone to call my mother when Sharif approached me and asked, "Yo ride running late?"
"As always," I rolled my eyes, irritated.
"C'mon, you ridin' wit me."
"Where?" I walked beside him, towards the parking lot.
"My crib," he hit the locks to his car as we approached the 2004 Ford Mustang.
We both got into the gray leather interior and he started the ignition.
