Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
HARLYM AND BRIELLE hopped out her car as they stopped in front of a liquor store. "I haven't been this deep inna trenches in a while."
"I don't everrrrr wanna be this deep in the trenches! ever." She scrunched up her face.
"You just. . .ion know what be up wit' you to be honest." Bri chuckled as she adjusted the white Jersey scoop neck bralette. "Where he at?"
Harlym looked around the busy block, ignoring all the stares she was getting from the guys lined up behind her or walking past, she was used to it every time she came down here with Key'Mir. "Ion know." She sighed placing a hand over her eyes. "I thought he woulda been here, he always here."
She walked toward the door of the liquor store and right before she could walk in, Quincy and Boonie walked out. They both looked at Harlym but Quincy was the one to speak, "Whatchu doin' down hea, where's Key? He's here?" He looked around.
Harlym glanced at Boonie, then back at Quincy, "I wanted to talk." She crossed her arms, "Without Brandon round, he violent."
Boonie smacked his lips, "Fuck you too then." He started walking away, toward his navy blue '64 Chevy Impala, Brielle was standing near the hood, admiring it.
"This you?" She asked as Boonie walked over, she watched as he tossed the black plastic bag into the back seat, answering her question.
"Yeah, this all me." He looked at her, smiling when he finally saw who was standing in front of her. Admiring the black brazilian deep wavy lace front that complimented her skin perfectly. "Uh. . ."
Boonie glanced at Harlym and Quincy who was in a heated argument before looking back at Brielle, "Wanna go on a ride? They going through sum."
Brielle shrugged before hopping into the car, "Of course." She smiled at him as she set down in the seat before jumping slightly, "Shit!" The hot seat from the sun has stung her legs from the shorts she was wearing, "Stupid sun."
"Whatchu mean you don't want me to abort the child?" Harlym looked at Quincy who just shrugged, "Quincy stop fuckin' playing wit' me mane, i'm so deadass."
"I ain't playing," He laughed, placing his blunt in his mouth and lighting it slowly. "You wasn't this mad when we fucking almost everyday what's the problem now?" He licked his lips as he blew the smoke in her direction, Harlym didn't even move.
Harlym bit her lip a few times, "Cause the person I love is not talking to me, Q. please don't do this to me." She rubbed her lips together.
"Do what?" He sighed, "Harlee stop with this victim shit, you had a role with getting pregnant too."
"And you had a role into getting me burnt," She crossed her arms. "Who else was you having sex with while with me? 'Cause I know ian dirty."
Quincy ran a hand over his face, "Say mane get fuck on wit' allat." He started walking away, before he had gotten back to the hotel room with Harlym he had gotten head from a random fan just an hour before—completely unaware of the disease the girl was carrying. He had just found out he was infected himself just two days ago.
