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"Look at this shit,"
"Jaygup!"
"This nigga finally got him a girl,"
"Bro, if y'all don't get the fuck out," Everette didn't even move before she spoke, scaring the living daylights out of the people in the room.
"Ma went to get you a new outfit and stuff with London so y'all better hurry up because she doesn't know he's in here," she could finally tell whose voice was whose and that one belonged to Dior.
"Make sure you wash them sheets boy,"
"Mikey get the f–"
"Say less," and the door finally closed. She contemplated on falling back to sleep but she stopped herself and opened her eyes up.
Josh was laid on his back still, his hands lazily crossed over his chest, probably to avoid touching Everette and hurting her in the process. By the way he was breathing, she could tell he was still sleeping.
"Josh," she grabbed his hand, the clear nail polish reflecting in the little bit of light peeping from his window. "Josh,"
