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"Amaria, bro move. I'm finna slam yo lame ass bra' gon'." Dayvon ducked, just as she threw her blow dryer in his direction.
Something else came flying towards him, and he moved out the way just in time to watch it break through the fragments of the wall-creating a hole.
Once he turned back around, his head flew in the other direction from the impact of the back of Amaria's hand.
"You gone tell me you don't know this bitch?! But she rubbing all on yo fuckin' arm Dayvon!" Her head snaked to be in his face whenever he tried to move, his palm cupping his cheek.
"I don't know her Amaria. Stop it. I don't fucking know that girl." He grabbed her wrists once she attempted to swing again, ignoring the stinging sensation coming from his face.
"No, you stop it! All yo bum ass do is fucking lie! You know that bitch and you mad she ain't let you fuck! Ugly ass. Nobody fucking want you. Somehow you still be forcin' yo way in another bitch face!"
"Stop it Mari. Look at me, stop. I don't know her ma I'm being deadass." He tightened his grip as she tried fighting out of it, and she locked her eyes on his gaze.
Within a few seconds, she began crying, and he let her wrists go to wrap his arms around her body.
"I don't know her, aight? I helped with her laundry 'cause the basket was too heavy. I ain't even speak to ha'. I won't do that no more, aight?" He rubbed her back, slickly rolling his eyes while she cried.
"You always fucking embarrassing me. Go get a fucking job or something." She pushed him away from her, and again, he rolled his eyes after watching her walk back to their room.
He could hear her spewing additional cuss words and degrading phrases being directed towards him while most likely throwing more things around the room the two of them shared.
Technically, they didn't really share it since nine times out of ten she made him sleep on the futon in the living room. He never complained because he didn't like laying with her anyways.
"Go get a job Dayvon!" She swung the door to their room back open, and he remained in the place he was in, a flat look on his face.
"Why is you sayin' that like I don't pay bills in here or somethin'?" He frowned, his head tilting to the side.
"I don't give a fuck what you do! You should do that shit without throwing it in my face since I'm the one who put yo broke ass on. You need your own shit." The door slammed again, and disregarding the rest, he actually agreed with her last statement. He definitely needed to get his own place.
Since he paid most of the bills in their shared apartment, he could very well kick her out-but he'd never do so. He wouldn't put her out on the street. He knew that she didn't have any family in Los Angeles.
Another reason he couldn't handle their apartment on their own was due to the highly expensive prices in their area. There was no way he'd be able to afford all of the apartment bills, his car note and its insurance, gas, and food for himself every month. It was way too costly.
