Dave the type of guy who would give his last to a stranger because he never wanna see a soul struggle that's what Tia loved about him the most he is husband material and if you was to ask Dave Tia was wife material
They have been best friends for...
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Mia?" I snapped, standing in the middle of the hallway like I wasn't supposed to be at practice twenty minutes ago. "Like I said—I don't like that shit, so stop doing it."
Same damn argument. Fifth time today. Over some petty ass shit that should've never been this deep—but here we were again.
Mia rolled her eyes, arms folded, that slick mouth ready to pop off. "Corey, you not my daddy."
I smirked, stepping closer. "Except when I'm knee-deep inside you."
She didn't hesitate—punched me right in the chest.
"Yo, stop being an asshole," she said, lips tight but eyes dancing like she loved this toxic back and forth as much as I did.
"Stop playin' with me then," I growled, my eyes dropping down to her outfit. "Look what you got on."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"What's wrong with it?" Mia shot back, turning to face me like she didn't know exactly what I was mad about.
I looked her up and down, jaw tight. "Why your stomach all out? Why the top of your chest showing?"
She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "Why are you so fucking dramatic?"
"I'm not being dramatic. It's disrespectful—to me."
"Disrespectfully," she said, waving me off. "You know what, whatever. Aren't you late for practice? Bye."
She started to walk off but I stepped forward and grabbed her waist gently, pulling her back.
"Don't walk away from me while we talkin'. Stop being rude."
She pulled back but didn't go far. "Corey, I'm over the back and forth. This is my body and this is what I like to wear. Ain't nothing wrong with my stomach being out—get over it."
I stared at her for a second. Felt my jaw clench.
"Bet," I said, stepping back.
"Don't walk away from me, Corey," she called behind me.
"I'm late for practice, remember?"
I turned and kept it pushing. I was tired of repeating myself. I wasn't trying to control what she wore—but when every dude looking at what's mine because she barely got anything on, it starts feeling like disrespect. And I wasn't built to just let that ride.
Just as I got to the door, Justin pulled up beside me.
"Nigga, why you late?" I asked him.
"I could ask you the same thing," he shot back, laughing.
We both jogged into the gym. Luckily, we were already dressed out.
Coach blew the whistle and glared. "Now why is my captain, Corey, late? And why is my co-captain, Justin, late?"
