Page 95 of Kissed By the Trillest Thug 2

“It absolutely does,” I said.

“It absolutely doesn’t,” she countered.

“It brings balance,” I said with a smile.

“It brings disappointment.”

“It brings flavor,” I tried to convince her some more.

“It brings confusion.”

I pointed my fork at her.

“You know what?”

“What?” she asked.

“I don’t even know why I keep inviting you over.”

She stared at me for exactly two seconds before answering.

“Because you’re borderline failing one of your classes…”

Truth be told, I was purposely coasting just so that I could spend more time with her. A laugh burst out of her before she could stop it. It was a real laugh, the kind that filled the apartment.

I couldn’t help but smile. Somewhere between orientation, English composition, ordering takeout, and late-night study sessions, that sound was quickly becoming my favorite part of college.

Chapter 18

Ghost

If there was one thing I’d learned over the past couple of months, it was that guilt had a way of making you question everything. Things that never used to bother me suddenly felt different, like a car sitting behind me too long at a red light. Or somebody slowing down beside me on the highway. Even pulling into a drive-thru had become something I couldn’t do without checking my mirrors three or four times first. I eased my black Camry into the Checkers drive-thru and glanced in the rearview mirror before rolling down my window.

A white dude in a white pickup truck sat behind me. Behind him was an older woman in a silver SUV. Neither one of them paid me any attention. Still… I looked twice. The speaker crackled to life.

“Welcome to Checkers. Go ahead whenever you’re ready.”

The sudden voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah, let me get a Big Buford combo, large fries, and a large Sprite.”

As the cashier repeated my order back to me, my eyes kept drifting toward the mirrors. It had gotten so bad that I didn’t even realize I was doing it anymore.

Ever since Reemo, it felt like I had somebody looking over my shoulder everywhere I went. The crazy part was I couldn’t tell if it was my conscience or if it was Ryan. This man was the FBI, and I was playing in his face. He could have detail trailing me, and I would never know. I paid for my food, thanked the cashier, and pulled into one of the parking spaces near the edge of the lot. I’d barely unwrapped my burger before my phone started ringing. I already knew who it was.

Ryan

His name lit up the screen while the phone vibrated against the center console. I watched it ring until it stopped.

“I still don’t got shit for ya ass,” I mumbled before taking a bite of my burger. A few seconds later, my phone buzzed again. This time it was a text.

Ryan: You’re making this harder than it has to be.

I locked the screen without responding and picked my burger back up, only for my phone to vibrate again. I let out an irritated breath before looking again.

Ryan: We need to talk

“Nah.”