Teach Me

Chapter 1

"Umm.... you not bout to do that shit in here are you?!" Erik asked, turning and eyeing you from the couch as you waddled into the living room. You moved slowly, arms full of nail care items and a bottle of nail polish remover stuck between your thighs. You switched your movements to short and shuffled once you reached the carpet so as not to drop anything.

"Uhh... this my place nigga, so yes the hell I am," you snap back, noticing Erik's gaze go from your arms to your jiggling ass as you make your way over towards him. You give him a side eye and a clipped grunt as you reach the coffee table, stopping to stare at it. You looked between it and the stuff hugged against your chest. You clearly didn't think this through.

Looking over to your boyfriend, you plaster a toothy smile on your face and put on your sweet voice.

"Babeee..?"

"Mmm hm..." he grunts out, returning your side eye from a second ago.

"You wanna help me out?" you grin, wagging your hips back and forth to emphasize the bottle still stuck between your legs. You knew that even on your sassiest of days, once you flashed him that wide grin of yours, he'd eventually falter.

Giving you a look, he sucks his teeth as he reaches over to begin pulling things from your arms and legs, placing them on the table. You smile toothily, bending forward to help him out a little.

"C'mon Y/N, you know I don't like the smell of this shit. Why can't you just go to the shop and get ya nails done?" Finally free of any restrictions, you plop down on the couch next to him, tucking your legs under you.

"First of all, " you look at him, "I know for a fact you got shit in your garage that smells way more toxic than some damn nail polish remover, so sack up."

You start organizing your stuff on the coffee table, fighting to keep a smirk from forming as you feel him stare at the side of your face.

"Plus," you quickly add, before he can start flaming your ass, "I ain't got nail shop money right now."

Your eyes glance up at the tv when you hear the channel switch. Damn. This nigga done turned on the basketball game. He knows you hate that shit.

"Aww babygirl, you know I gotchu. Ain't nothing but a word and I can slide you some cash to keep ya nails fresh." He smacks your thigh with the back of his hand, giving you a sly smile.

"And, you know I love it when you got them casket shits on, witcha bougie ass."

You laugh unrestrainedly at Eriks ignorance. "Nigga, I think you mean coffin." He chuckles too, locking his big brown eyes with yours.

Pausing, you breathe a small sigh, dropping your eyes to your lap as you fidget with your fingers. "..and I told you. I don't want you giving me money. I appreciate it, but, I got this Erik." You look back up to him, grabbing his hand and bringing it to your face to kiss his knuckles.

You loved how willing and unselfish Erik was whenever he offered to finance your lifestyle or give you some extra cash. I mean, it was true, your ass was bougie. But you were bougie because you could afford to be bougie, not because you had someone else footing the bill.

Well, you were able to afford it, that was until a couple of months ago.

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It had only been about a year since you had successfully moved out of your parents house into your first apartment in Washington DC, an accomplishment you had been incredibly proud and protective of. After graduating college with a degree in Urban Planning, you'd faced a hard few months back home searching for a job that was actually willing to pay you a bachelor's degree salary, and found your self settling for a call center job for the time being. Three months into that job you were laid off, and spent yet another several months searching for another job closer to what you were interested in. Luckily, you'd been smart and funneled most of your earnings straight into your savings, allowing you to fend off offers from your mom and dad to pay for any small expenses you had, while still being able to make the rent every month. You had tasted the freedom of a stable income and financial stability, however fleeting it may have been, and you'd be damned if you were going back to having to ask your parents for help.

Around your fourth month of unemployment, you'd gotten an offer for a Budget Analyst position at the Smithsonian in D.C, one that not only payed you at a graduate level, but also offered to pay for any relocation expenses. While it wasn't exactly what you'd wanted to do, you were far too excited about the idea of finally living on your own and making money to turn down the job. So, jumping at the chance for both independence and a change of location, you packed up your car with as much of your stuff as you could and drove across the country to begin your new journey into adulthood.

Meeting Erik, however, was a different journey altogether.