Daddy's Home

He's A Bad Boy 2

I'm at the hair shop and my fucking hairdresser wanna joke and call her baby daddy 😑 I'm dead ass. I'm ready to go but here you go.

Y/N In Media

One week
Later.

Y/N 🌸👅

"I mean I fuck wit' ha', but ion fuck wit ha' heavy," he explained to me taking a bite out of the huge five guys burger.

"Odell?"

"Maybe, I should doe'."

"Dell?"

"Nah ian' tryna get played, so i'a prolly jus' fuck ha' and leave-"

"Odell, you need help!" I blurted out before taking a sip of the Pepsi awkwardly.

"Yea, I was jus' finna ask ya', whatchu' thank i should do?"

"No, I think you need help. With your drug problem." I breathed out.

"Fuck ya' talm' 'bout drug pro'lem. Ian got no drug pro'lem, yeah a nigga might pop a couple Xans ah' whateva'. But, ion't have no drug pro'lem."

I nodded, "You're right, you have a drug and a drinking problem. Odell last week, when I came over you thought I was Lavish, and then you passed out."

"Ight, so what I was tweakin' jus' a lil' bit?"

"Odell if you keep this up, you won't be able to throw a football again."

"Na' ya goin' ta' far. You'ont kno' why I do it.
You'ont Kno' what I gotta go through everyday." He mumbled. "Cause yeen neva' thea' fa' me."

I sat there and sighed playing with the ends of my braids.

"If ya need me, I'a be in footlocka' but I suppose since Ima drug addict, ya won't." He said walking out and heading inside the mall.

-

A couple of days had passed, and I was pretty sure Odell hated me. And my only real friend was gone. I didn't have many friends, Odell was my only best friend and he'd always be.

I texted and called him numerous amounts of times but I wouldn't get any replies.

My mom suggested that Odell was kinda angry and I should of course give him time to heal and get over what I said. But, I can't. I'm used to spending almost everyday with Odell. And this has been complete torture.

I sat on the porch, drawing him. Odell I meant. His smile, was what I was drawing. It was really rare to get one out of him, I treasure the moments when I make him. He's sorta a asshole, but I guess I bring a different side of him, I would hope I did.

Odell's black Land Rover pulled around my block. And instantly, I almost smiled. I wanted to be mad at him for saying I was never there for him when I was. And taking what I said to him the wrong way, but I couldn't because whether he knew it or not, I loved him like a brother, Odell was my bestest friend, I cherished him.

"Whatchu' doin'?" He asked leaning on the steps railing.

I tore out the drawing of him, and passed it to him, "I was gonna color it, I think I kinda messed up though."

He looked at it, I think he was kinda admiring it, his lips curved into a genuine smile, "Ya kno' ya could really doin' some'n wit' dis' Cal." He smiled referring to a nickname he gave me, whom he got it from his Hawaiian grandfather who always called his wife, Calista, which is a name meaning, woman of most beauty.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I thought 'bout whatchu' said," he mumbled, "I ain't doin' rehab but I'll do therapy, and dats' only if ya come wit me."

I don't know if this is a good idea.

Part three coming soon.