Chapter 4

𝙻𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚢𝚗

“So once again, you start some shit with your boy and now the cost of your actions is your friend’s man almost catchin’ a headshot!?” he shouted, arms crossed tight like he was trying not to actually lose it, glaring at me as if I personally pulled the trigger.

“Okay, first of all—ex,” I corrected, holding my finger up slightly. “Second of all… he really let off shots over some gas.” I rolled my eyes like that alone should’ve ended the conversation. 

He sucked his teeth loud as hell. “You actin’ like you can’t buy that shit nowhere else!? Child— I swear… go plant you one then!” His accent slipped out heavy, and I just hummed, rolling my eyes as I clutched my purse closer to me, lookin’ the other way.

“Dad, I gotta go to school,” I muttered, already halfway out the door. He waved me off like I was a whole-ass inconvenience. “We need to have a real talk when you get back,” he warned.

“We just had one—”

“Get.”

I let out a loud, dragged-out groan and stormed out the house, not even lookin’ back. He should be happy I’m still breathin’. Like… I get it, Donte got shot. But he breathin’ too, ain’t he? Traumatized? Prolly. Alive? Yes.

And I already know what you thinkin’—

‘Londynnn why would you think thattt?’

‘Londynnn why would you say thattt?’

Girl, please.

He the one who recommended getting the gas for the party in the first place. Now look at him—Hospitalized. That sound like my fault? No? Exactly. So now I’m the only one still going to the party.

I drove to school, letting the breeze hit my face while my music played low. Driving like that always helped me forget the type of life I was really living… and honestly, so did stepping foot onto this campus.

Over here, you don’t really gotta worry about somebody shooting the place up… unless they got beef with somebody inside. Now imagine they find me and do that? yeah, no. That’s some next-level dedication. I ain’t even worth all that, be so for real.

After a few turns down the hall, I made it to my lecture room. And of course, my fine ass professor was already there, sitting behind his desk, glasses low on his nose, muscles pressing against his shirt like it was fightin’ for its life.

I walked down the steps slow, my eyes dropping to his hands as he flipped through papers. “Ms. Devereaux,” he called. I hummed, leanin’ against the edge of his desk like I belonged there.

“Mr. Wilson,” I shot back, and he chuckled.

“Early for your review?”

I cleared my throat, turning slightly as I reached for his hand. “About that…” I said softly.

He stood up slowly, glancin’ toward the entrances like he already knew what typa of timing I was on.

“Could you possibly…” I paused, tiltin’ my head just a little. “…fix my grade?”

If you’re wonderin’—yes. This nigga easy. You ain’t gotta do too much. And before you get to judging, just know this all started out of spite. I kissed him after my ex cheated on me. And oh… my ex lost his damn mind when he found out.

So really? That’s some character development typa shit.

“We can work on something,” he smirked. I slid closer, hands runnin’ slow down his chest. “That would be amazing,” I hummed softly.

His hand came up to my neck—and just like that, the door swung open.

Britney came storming in. We pulled away fast, and she stormed down the steps like she just caught me catchin’ a body. She groaned loud as hell, snatchin’ my arm.

“Seriously?” I muttered under my breath. “I was in the middle of getting my B to an A.”

She wasn’t amused. At all. “You messed up big time last night, Londyn,” she huffed.

I rolled my eyes instantly. “The police asked what happened. I told the truth—”

“No, you sold us out!?” she snapped, yanking her hand away from me. My brows furrowed. Because first of all—if I didn’t, my dad would’ve beat my ass into another dimension. And second of all… is it really selling them out if it was their move?

My dad don’t play that cop shit—and neither do I. I warned them about the life I live. They just think its all jokes. “Y’all wanted the gas,” I said simply.

She scoffed. “We need a break from you.”

I shrugged, brushin’ past her like it didn’t faze me. “Guess y’all missing the party tonight.”

She let out a breathless laugh. “Bitch, is that all you care about? Some lame ass party?”

I stop in my tracks. Turned slow.

“Well Britney… ask me if I give a fuck about anything else,” I said, my tone dropping. “Donte got himself shot.” I seethed then walked right off.

I was not about to let her guilt-trip me over some shit that ain’t got nothin’ to do with me. Instead, I went straight through my classes, barely hearing a word, then made my way over to my girl’s dorm.

“You sure this gon fit?” I asked, tuggin’ at the black long sleeve jumpsuit, twistin’ side to side in the mirror like I ain’t already know I looked good. I threw the cropped motor jacket over it, smoothing it down, matching it with some fur boots.

I wasn’t going home for nothing, so I had to improvise and borrow the leather jacket off Chelsea like it was rightfully mine.

“Girl, you look good,” she nodded, not even lookin’ up from her phone. 

“Thank you,” I said with a hum, flipping my hair right as her man walked out the kitchen shirtless. I paused. Blinking slow. “…yeah, no.” I pointed at him, my face scrunching up as his eyes started wandering just a little too freely.

“Khalil, is you going?” I asked, already judging him.

He hummed and glanced at Chelsea, leaning against the wall like he got his name on the lease. “I’m waiting for her ass.”

She sucked her teeth loud. “Nigga, go already! The hell is you waitin’ on me for?” She huffed, getting up from her vanity.

I shook my head, checking the time on my phone. “Well, girl, I’ll see you there,” I said, heading for the door, Khalil dapping me up by the entrance, leaning in close.

“Where’s yo man?” He murmured by the door.

I looked at him like he just asked me something stupid. 

My brow lifted. “Don’t got one,” I said. “Might turn gay at this point, the way these niggas be playing in my face like I’m some clown in their circus.”

He ain’t even hesitate. “Bitch, yo ass been gay, fuck you talkin’ bout?”

“Now—” I lifted my hand to mush him but paused. Because honestly? I was lost for words. I ain’t even have a comeback. Which irritated me more.

I ain’t never been with a stud, but they do look good. Like…real good. From a distance though. 

And apparently—according to my friends—most of the niggas I dated look like studs anyway. So who really to blame? They fine as hell. I said it.

I just ain’t ever spoke to one. Like ever. Never approached one, never been approached, never had one in my class. They always outside though, and I just… look. From afar. cause again, my ass ain’t gay.

“…Boy, whatever,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “Never been with a woman, so you can’t say shit.”

He smirked like he already won. “You would if you could,” he teased, laughing. I shoved him out the way, hearing him laugh behind me as I walked off. 

𐃯

The party was already packed when I got there, music blastin’. It was hella people outside, inside, everywhere—folks dancing, drinking, and yelling like they ain’t got class in the morning. It was chill. Even if half my circle decided to act funny. I didn’t care.

Fuck ’em.

They wanna avoid me, cool. I still look good, and I still showed up.

I made my way through the crowd, pushing past people who were doin’ way too much for 9 PM, heading straight to the kitchen. Because one thing about me? I’m getting a drink first.

And that’s when I saw her. Whitney. I paused mid-step, my face immediately twisting. A bitch I cannot stand. She too grown to be movin’ the way she do, messing with my ex, and now here she go—posted up with somebody new like she collect niggas for a hobby.

But the one she had now?

…yeah. I ain’t even gon lie. He was fine as fuck…

He was probably about 6 foot. Tatted. Built like he really hit the gym and don’t just go to take pictures. And his gaze? Low. Lazy. The typa gaze these girls be eating right up. I blinked, catching myself. Why am I looking that hard??

Like…damn??

“Do we have a problem?” Whitney asked, catching my stare. I slowly dragged my eyes off him and onto her, unbothered.

“You got one with yourself,” I said, slipping right between ’em to grab a cup. And that’s when I smelled it. His scent. Vanilla. Cocoa. And something musky that I couldn’t even describe.

I paused for half a second.

Because, Yeah… he smelled good as hell, that’s one thing for sure. I ain’t even gon’ lie, I had to give her props with this one. I glanced up at him, just for a second.

“I’d stay away from her,” I said casually, pourin’ my drink. “She might throw off your pH balance.”

He looked between me and her, brows slowly furrowing.

“Mane, what the fuck…” he muttered more to himself and I almost laughed.

Whitney sucked her teeth like she was tired of me, and I shrugged.”You fucked my man,” I said simply. “Don’t think I won’t warn the rest every time.”

His brows pulled together even more, like he was already calculating his exit. “Yeah… I got things to do,” he said, stepping back slightly. “Preciate it.”

His voice? Deep. Raspy. Low. Yet smooth for no reason. Like he know exactly how he sound too. And trust when I say I understood every word real clear.

“Aries!?” she called after him as he walked off.

I blinked.

…Aries?

I scoffed, shaking my head. “Yeah, you picked a fine ass one, I’ll give you that.” I muttered, turning back to my drink. “Shame.”

She opened her mouth, ready to go back and forth, but then—A gunshot rang out. The sound cracked through the house so loud it felt like it split the air in half.

And just like that? Everything went left.

Screams filled the house instantly. People pushing, running every which way like a stampede, everybody lookin’ for the nearest exit.

I stood there for half a second. Because ain’t no way.

Again??

I exhaled, scanning the room, but this shit was too packed. I had a feelin’ they were after me—especially once I clocked a face I recognized from Jalen’s block. Of course they followed me here. Because why wouldn’t they?

“…you gotta be kidding me,” I muttered, then turned and pushed toward the exit, But the crowd? Everybody trying to get out at the same time was the dumbest idea possible.

Bodies pushin’, people tripping over each other, drinks spilling, and right when I tried to move through? Somebody stepped right on my ankle. Hard.

“Fuck—” I hissed, pain shootin’ straight up my leg as I began limpin’ toward the porch, and that’s when I saw it. I froze. A body. Bleedin’ out on the ground.

My stomach dropped instantly. “Londyn!” I turned to see Khalil and Chelsea sprintin’ toward me.

“Get in the car,” he yelled.

And for once? I ain’t argue. We all piled in, and he sped off so fast I’m surprised he ain’t ran nobody over. The whole ride? Silent. For me at least. Because what was there to say? People just came to vibe, and these dumb-ass niggas turned it into something else just because I was there.

What’s worse? it didn’t even end there. Because when they dropped me off, my dad was already outside. Arms crossed. Waitin’.

“You just don’t listen, do you?” he snapped, draggin’ me inside before I could even get a word out. I huffed, already over it. I don’t even know how he found out, but I ain’t surprised.

“And you’re limpin’!?” he snapped, looking down at my ankle. “It’s just sprained,” I groaned.

He sucked his teeth. “This is why you gon’ have somebody watch your tail by tomorrow. I’ve had enough of this shit!”

I paused, my brows pullin’ together slow.

…The fuck he mean a bodyguard?