Lost.

23.

KIMBERLY.

"Thank you, Bryson. See y'all." Klare said as we pulled up to her house.

Bryson nodded his head and turned the music down a little. Klare walked into her house and waved, letting us know that she was in. He frantically pulled off.

"Why you got dis nigga coat on like it ain't shit?" Bryson asked me.

"He just didn't want me to be out there in the rain, cold as hell." I truthfully said.

"Dat was the whole point of you bringin' yo own shit," He looked over at me and shook his head. I rolled my eyes at his ignorant ass.

"Who you doin' all da extra to? I ain't the one dat did it to ya. Bet tighten dat shit up." Bryson said to me.

"You tighten up, nigga. You the one over there poutin' and shit for no reason. It's a fucking coat." I said, getting irritated now.

Bryson glanced at me with a mean glare, before turning his attention back to the road.

I don't know what his problem is but he's doing too much for me right now. I barely even know the nigga I was just chatting with, the fuck. How are you mad because a nigga offered me his coat, that I was in fact, trying to decline. I was also going to give it back to him the next time we crossed paths.

Then it clicked. This was Len's way of us basically having to cross paths again. I own a few myself and I know Monclear coats aren't cheap. The one he gave me was literally over 2gs. I know because I was going to get this exact one, but decided against it.

"I should've let yo aggravatin' ass ride wit yo brother nem. On God." Bryson nastily spat at me.

"Weak ass nigga, let me out then. Fuck." I simply said, not really paying much attention to Bryson and his fucked up ass attitude right now.

"Watch yo mouth. I ain't one of these lil pussies you chat wit, real talk." He warned me.

"I don't give a fuck about none of that. It's either you gone let me out or quit talkin' to me. Period." I scrolled through my contacts, looking for Len's number.

I wanted him to meet me at VLive, if we ever make it. Bryson's so busy shit talking that this is the fifth wrong turn he done made.

"I'a fuck you up out here." Bryson threatened as we finally pulled up to the club.

"Who gone do what? Oh, aight." I got out of his car, slamming the door behind myself.

"You heard what I said." He dismissively said.

"Oh, aight." I repeated.

Really, whenever Bryson starts acting like the crazy ass nigga that he is, I take that as an advantage to fuck with him. He falls for it every time, and always end up pissed off. First reason why i'm the wrong bitch to try; you'll always be the one walking away mad.

I looked down to take my phone back out of my purse as I felt myself being pulled away from the entrance of the club. I looked up, and unsurprisingly, it was Bryson standing over me.

"Didn't I say stop tryin' me on dat lame ass shit?" He asked me. I remained silent for a few seconds, trying to gather my thoughts before I said some off the wall shit.

"You don't get to talk to people any type of way and expect respect in return. That's foolish. Move out my way." I calmly said.

Bryson was standing in front of me, towering over me since he was tall as hell compared to me. I just stood there as he got all in my face, for no reason. Like nigga, you started with me. Now you're mad? Make it make sense.