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Well, now I don’t need to worry about relieving myself. My roommate just cock-blocked me. How in the actual fuck is that possible? He’s right, I have shit to do today, and as much as I would like to sit here and think about my girl naked and wet, that isn’t going to help me get anything done.
“I’m coming, hold the fuck up.” Within twenty minutes, I’m dressed and ready to go. Now I just have to remain focused on work for eight hours until I get to meet my girl for a movie.
“That sounds awesome, guys, keep it up, hit the snare a little more.” Nodding my head to the beat, I realize I lost track of time. Music has been a huge influence on my life, I listen to it all day, I play the guitar, sing, and occasional drums, but it’s an essential component in my life. Moving to Seattle to open this studio was one of the scariest, but most rewarding ventures I’ve done. Growing up with a wealthy dad, and I mean wealthy, I never had the chance to give independence a go…until I moved to Seattle and spent my entire life savings on this studio. It’s worth every drop of blood and ounce of tears. It didn’t start out easy, Kingston and I had to experience eating noodles for a year or two, but now we are sitting very comfortably and only expanding. So, you could say life is good.
“Hey, dream boy, you wanna talk about your late night with my sister?” Kings questions, walking into the booth and crossing his big arms over his chest, his tattoos making them look even bigger. Kingston is more built and bulky than I am, but we could go head to head any day.
However, today wouldn’t be that day. This fucking goon protects Shayla like she’s a damn newborn baby. I thought I was gonna be able to avoid it for another day, since we have a busy day here. But, it looks like its now or never, since he will not let it go—its not in his nature.
“Uh, yeah, listen, buddy—”
He puts his hand up to stop what I’m about to say. “I’m not an idiot, we all knew this was gonna happen one day, especially Lana and me,” he says, crossing his arms again and shaking his head with a sly grin.
“But I know you and I know your “fear” of commitment.” He huffs out fear while bending his fingers in quotations.
“She’s a fucking saint, bro, and she deserves the best. No matter how long we’ve been friends.” He’s right, we’ve been best friends for years, growing up in the same neighborhood, where we first met fighting over whose red bike was better. I still think I won.
“She deserves nothing but the best, and I won’t put you above her, so if you hurt her, bro, there will be hell. I own many guns…” he threatens me with a warning and a side of sarcasm. Even with the sarcasm, I know the message is serious. He really protects my girl with his life.
“Yeah, no, I know, she deserves the best. I may be terrified, but she makes me want to try, she makes me want to live, and not just exist.” I look back up at Kingston and he’s wearing a shit-eating grin, and I know he will get me back for saying something so corny.
“Wow, look who’s all”—he pinches my cheeks—“filled with all the feels!” I push his hands away and punch his stomach.
“Fuck off, bro. We all know once Lana gives your dumb ass a chance you’ll turn into Mr. Rogers himself,” I tease.
The day passed quickly and before I know it, it’s time to leave to meet Shayla. I ask the guys to wrap it up and give a quick bye to Kings. I’m almost to her place when my phone starts ringing.
“Hey, gorgeous, you ready to go? I’m pulling up in two minutes.” I hear ruffling noises in the background, followed by a man’s voice.
“Yeah, Trey, change of plans. We ended up staying longer than expected at the restaurant, but I’m heading there now. Give me like—” She stops and laughs after the man speaks again.
A weird feeling forms in my stomach, and I notice my hands growing a little tight on the steering wheel.
That’s weird.
“Shay?”
“Yeah, sorry, give me like five more minutes, and I’ll be there.”
I have the sudden urge to get to her, although I’m not sure why. I just want to go to her.
“Where are you, I can meet you there. Is it closer to the theater?” There’s a long pause and she laughs again, causing my knuckles to whiten as I grip the steering wheel even tighter.
That’s when I realize it. I’m fucking jealous, me, Trey. No, I’ve never been jealous over a woman before, ever. However, it’s Shayla, my girlfriend, not Shayla some random chick. Who the fuck does this guy think he is, making her laugh that sexy little way she does. Those laughs are mine. Okay, step back, bud, you are getting too hotheaded and the guy is probably a fat, old, rich guy. I don’t need to worry. Do I?
“Shay?” I ask, trying to hide the bitterness in my voice. “Where are you?”
“Oh, Trey, I’m sorry, Evan was telling me a story of the waitress… Sorry, geez, I’m at the House Grill, his driver just got here, so I don’t mind heading there.”
Evan? Yep, he sounds like he shits dust. You got this, Trey.
“That’s by the movies, I’ll just come get you.” Changing direction, I begin heading toward the restaurant. “But please wait inside, it’s not safe down there.”
/> “I don’t mind waiting in my car or driving to the theater.” I hear heels hitting the pavement in the background.
“No, go back inside, I’ll have Kings come get your car tonight, it’s not safe, go inside.”
“Trey, I’m a grown woman, don’t talk to me like that.” She sounds mad, and I hate that she’s getting the wrath of my obvious jealousy. This is new for me, all of this—her and me, this relationship—and I’m still adjusting to the change. I just need her to understand that.
