Endless

4

Ty's POV

Lex been blowing up my phone for the last fifteen minutes even though she the one that left me hanging with a whole "go deliver ya lil crush his shoes" speech. I ignored every call because if I heard her voice one more time I was turning this damn car around and taking those Forces RIGHT back to Footlocker.

But here I was.

Sitting in the campus parking lot with a Footlocker bag in the passenger seat like it was a bomb I was scared to touch.

"Bruh... you a grown ass man," I whispered to myself, palms on the wheel. "You just returning some shoes. You ain't proposing."

My stomach disagreed, flipping like I ate Dollar Tree sushi.

I stared at the building across the lot — the freshman dorms. The same ones Lex swore up and down "ain't even that confusing." Lying ass. Half the hallways looked the same and smelled like a mix of microwave popcorn and Axe body spray.

I took a deep breath, grabbed the bag, and opened the car door. The air hit me quick — that humid, sticky-ass night air that make you feel like you sweating before you even move. My hand tightened on the bag, knuckles turning white.

"Aight man... let's do this."

I walked into the building, scanning the names scribbled on the whiteboards outside each door. They all had those little dumb freshman quotes Lex loved — "Study hard!" and "Live laugh love" and some random girl wrote "men are snacks, not meals." Whatever that meant.

I found myself stopping every few steps, debating turning around.

"Bruh get it together," I muttered. "You too fine to be scared."

Was I lying to myself? Yes. Loudly. But it was working.

I finally reached the hallway with a little dent in the wall Lex said was "where somebody tripped trying to run from a roach." Why she knew that? I do not know.

"Kentrell... Kentrell..." I read the names.
Then I froze.

There.

KENTRELL R.

Black marker. Sloppy handwriting. But his name hit me like a damn truck.

I stared for a full ten seconds, bag in my hand, heart THUMPING like I owed it money.

"Bro. Just knock."

I raised my fist.

Paused.

Lowered it.

Raised it again.

Lowered it.

"Tyquian... STOP being a weak bitch," I whispered aggressively to myself.

I knocked. Soft at first. Then louder when I realized he might not have heard it.

Inside, I heard something fall — like a controller. Then footsteps. Heavy ones. My stomach dropped to my toes.

The door swung open.

Kentrell stood there shirtless — sweatpants low on his hips, chain glistening, tattoos dancing across his chest and arms like they were drawn on hot. He looked at me like I was the last person he expected.

"Oh..." he said with a short laugh. "It's you."

His voice?
Deep.
Rough.
Like he woke up thirty seconds ago but somehow sounded fine as hell.

"Uh... yeah," I said, tryna keep my voice from crackin. "It's me."

He leaned on the doorframe, eyes dropping to the Footlocker bag dangling from my hand.