"we fell in love the way you fall in leaves."
Juwan "Rocky" Rockwell has had a pretty hard life. Between trying to find a way to fend for himself and dealing with the normal hardships of teenage angst, he had nowhere to turn as an adolescent and no...
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"hurt"
It was chilly out, the skies grey and the air swift as I leaned against the brick wall of the building I knew all too well. I knew this entire block too well— after all, my childhood homes were only fifteen minute walks going in each direction from where I stood. I glanced around casually, waiting for my usual clientele to approach. It was relatively early in the afternoon— only about 2:00.
Already, I was low on products, partially because I've already been out here all morning. I learned quickly that the early bird catches the worm, and although I hated rising from my sleep at nearly six in the morning, I knew that money waited for no man. Business waited for no man. Rent damn sure didn't wait for anyone. So, here I was, shaking hands with each exchange and racking up money without saying so much as three words to each customer.
This was the perfect profession, to be honest. I hated being social and talking to people. I loved flexible hours. I appreciated basically being my own boss. The last thing I wanted for myself was a wack ass 9 to 5.
I watched multiple people pass by, including a few couples who were holding hands or other things of the sort. Quinn flashed through my mind, and I simply shook my head. She hadn't answered or returned any of my calls all week. I started to think that I did something wrong, but if I did, she would've told me. . . right? Whenever I'd call, Keisha would pick up and tell me that Quinn wasn't there or that she was busy. I was suspicious because Quinn had never been all that busy before, but I decided to let that shit slide.
I hoped that she was okay.
In the midst of finishing up an exchange, I couldn't help but catch sight of a petite figure coming down the sidewalk. Wearing a skirt, heels, a bright red sweater, and a beret to match, it was Quinn walking as if she were on a runway. With her long strapped, small purse positioned on her shoulder and a pink rose in her hand, she made my heart skip a beat at the sight of her.
Maybe it was just me, but I could've sworn that the air that was frigid and bleak only seconds ago suddenly carried warm breezes that belonged to the summer. The way the wind seemed to flow through her hair and how it forced everyone's attention on her face only left me stunned. Her smooth legs ensured long strides, and she seemed to take her time approaching me, once her eyes met mine. Shit, she could take all the time she needed. I didn't care.
That is until I snapped back into reality.
"Yo, Q. What are you doing here?" I couldn't help but glance around wide-eyed at my surroundings. I wasn't in the safest area, and shorty just had her purse on her shoulder without a care in the world. Even besides that, I was at my "place of business." There was no way she could've just been here for nothing. She was a lil' princess; how'd she even find her way over here? I wondered if Keisha told her— Damn, she can't ever mind her business or keep her mouth closed. You sell a person some weed, one time— okay, that's a lie but still— and suddenly, she's running around telling my girlfriend my location.
