HARDAWAY | trilogy

V2 - Chapter Eighteen.

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎

                My Nike long sleeve compression shirt stained with sweat while I breathed heavily and slowed my pace when I walked through the front door after my routined early morning run. Cotton fleece sweat-shorts and Nike Air Zoom Pegasus running sneakers. Kevin Gates playing in my AirPods lowered when I removed them from my ears. Hallway being straight ahead, I spotted Jaheim leaning his ear on DeAndre door as faint headboard knocks hit against the wall and combination of low female moans. My brother cheesed, and fist pumped the air.

Jaheim been staying with us for about a week and needless to say, he loved it — thanks to DeAndre and his constant nights of sex with females on campus.

Going unnoticed I sneaked behind Jaheim, "What you doin?"

He jumped out of his skin and spun around while I laughed. "You scared the shit outta me, man."

"Quit being nosy," I walked to my bedroom and he followed.

"This what he do every night?" Jaheim asked as I removed my sweat-stained compression shirt.

"Damn near. Surprised he ain't got no damn disease."

"True," he agreed. "The female moans sound lovely, though. I can't wait for college. I'm tryna be in all them festivities."

"Don't follow in his footsteps idiot," I tossed my sweaty shirt at him and he frowned.

"Sex clearly the shit. You have it with Aalea."

"She my girl..."

"That's why I need one," he groaned and laying back on my bed.

"What happen to the chick who helped you with homework?"

"Camila? She coo'. ."

"But not enough for you to fuck wit?"

"I mean, I like her and her innocence kinda a turn on. But I'm young and immature right now. I want to get through high school and fuck as much as I can — get it all outta my system. Then, if she still in this state, I'll fuck wit her. Get all my fucking out the way."

I chuckled softly, "As crazy as it sounds, if nigga thought the way you did; cheating wouldn't be a word."

"Exactly," He smiled, "And I see you still doing that early ass mornin' routine Roberto had you on when we were younger. Stuck in yo head?"

A moment of silence, on my part, I thought back to all of the early mornings Roberto would wake me to go run; staying fit for basketball. Seven-years-old on the little league basketball team and being awaken by Roberto at four in the morning on the dot to go run drills and race the trail around our old apartments for two hours. A young tender boy going to school with aching muscles and learning the feeling of ice baths.

"Guess.... I'm used to it," My shoulders shrugged. "I been doin it for almost ten years. It's stuck."

"Shit not me. Wish I would."

"Momma call you yet?"

"Yesterday. She talkin' bout she wanna come see me. Claim it's big news."