𝗥𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗠𝗲

𝐚𝐡

𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐌𝐞

The dark-skinned man smacked his lips with a mug. He had leaned forward in his seat, harshly clicking the buttons on the white Xbox controller as if the pressure of his fingers would make his basketball player play better.

"I'm finna drag that ass." The man across the room spoke with a smile.

He'd been happy he was finally winning as opposed to the regular feeling of losing he'd endure every time he played against his darker-toned friend, Pooti.

Losing though? Pooti wasn't used to that.

As soon as the ball swished through the net and the buzzer sounded indicating the end of the game, Loni couldn't help but crackle at Pooti's attitude, balling in laughter at the sight of him pouting in his seat and tightening his jaw, being a sore loser.

"Nigga you got my lucky controller! You still ass either way it go." He defended, throwing the controller onto the couch cushion beside him as he sat up. "If I ain't let you use it, I woulda been embarrassed yo ass playin' this game and you know it!"

Loni snickered as his friend jumped at him.

"You know what?" Pooti asked, "Gimme my shit back, pin head Larry lookin' ass nigga. You ain't using it no more either so don't even ask."

Light chuckles slipped past Loni's lips as he tossed the controller at Pooti's bare chest.

"How you mad cause I won? Take yo L like a real nigga and quit startin' with me chicken bodied bitch."

Both boys snickered while Misery smacked his slightly chapped lips from above nearby.

He side-eyed his small friend, Dean, the other darker-toned man in the room who'd been sitting at the opposite end of the sofa, running his mouth.

Misery snorted and lightly bit his bottom lip, immediately recognizing the familiar lie that breezed past his mouth. Granted, it was the same one he'd been telling them for months now.

"And he tried to grab me..." Dean continued as the group half-listened, smiling amongst themselves when they, too, began to recognize his words.

"But keep in mind he bigger than me," he exaggerated with wide eyes, "I'm talkin' seven-foot, five inches type big.."

Loni, who'd been sitting on the floor between Dean and Misery's feet, had turned his head the opposite way, holding in the laugh he felt bubbling in his chest. Seven-foot, five inches my ass, he thought as he balled his lips and lifted a closed fist to his chin, raising his knees up to his chest.

Pooti instantly smiled once he seen the look his friend had on his face while Misery also held in a laugh of his own.

He hid his face behind his hands, turning his head and balling his lips in his mouth, pretending to scratch the lower lobe of his ear whereas Greg on the other hand didn't bother.

The brown skin man sitting slouched on the singular chair across from Pooti snickered quietly in his seat. Shoulders shaking, head dipped, knees spread, and eyes a flutter away from crying real tears. Greg hoped his sensitive friend hadn't noticed, but no way was he telling them this fake ass story again.

"So I flung his ass right across the aisle-" Immediately, the men burst into laughter.

Misery grinned wide. His long-sleeved shirt rode up his back and torso as he slid down the couch, landing on his hands and knees, weak in the stomach.

And from then on it'd been nothing but a mess.

Loni jumped up from the floor, staggering as he choked on his spit. He'd already been beating on his chest, struggling to regulate his breathing while Pooti crackled, pointing his finger at Greg who laughed his silent laugh dead in Dean's face.