"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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"the heights"
"Who exactly is this guy anyway?" Sweets assisted me with packing my last couple of items. "Marlo," I answered the no-brainer. "That guy you're always calling long distance?" she folded her arms. "Yeah, him," I smiled.
"And what does he do again?" she was passing me my items from the bathroom we shared. "He's a freelance photographer," I answered. "And he's from Atlanta?" "No. He's from Compton," it felt as if I was running through his life story for the eighty-seventh time. "How'd he end up in Atlanta?" her face scrunched up a little.
"How about you ask him next time I'm on the phone with him?" I kissed my teeth. She playfully rolled her eyes with a smirk. "Well, you like him?" she asked, holding my items until I'd made enough room in my duffle bag to place them where they needed to go.
"Yeah, he's. . . cool," I found myself smiling a little. "Define cool," she plopped down on my bed, next to my bag once I found room for what she was attempting to hand off to me.
"He's smart and funny and really nice. . . and really cute," I listed. She smiled slightly, which only raised my suspicions about what she was thinking about. "What?" I asked her.
"Nothing. It's just. . . really good to see you happy again," she nodded. I laughed. "Sweets, me and Marlo aren't a thing." "But he does make you happy, right?" "Well, yeah," I scoffed. "So my point still stands," she nodded once more with a smile.
I released a breath of a laugh, shaking my head in the process. "Is he ever gonna' come up to New York?" she asked. "Why? So you can badger him seconds after meeting him?" I gave a smirk. "Maybe," she shrugged before we both laughed.
"I probably won't have to. He seems to treat you really nice, Quinn," she added once our laughter died down. "He's a nice guy, Sweets. The day you meet him will be the day you fall in love with him. I promise you— it happened with my mother," I plopped myself onto my bag in attempt to effectively zip up my bag.
"Auntie Debra?" her jaw dropped. "Girl, yes! They go out for brunch every Sunday, and if not brunch, they cook Sunday dinner together," I explained. "Marlo— that's his name, right?" she asked. "Yeah," I giggled lightly, finally getting my bag zipped up. "Marlo what?" "Marlo Alexander, Sweets. I've said it a thousand times," I playfully rolled my eyes.
"Hmm. . . Quinn Alexander. It has a ring to it. Doesn't it?" she asked. I laughed before she even finished, taking a hold on my bag in one hand and my plane ticket with the other. She joined me in laughter, following me out of my room and toward the exit.
She grabbed her car keys on the way out, and soon, I was hugging and kissing her goodbye. Within three hours, it was nightfall and I was back in the city in which I was raised, searching for the man that I had a date with tomorrow night. Just as it happened three weeks ago, a sign with my name beautifully written on it rose above the abyss of people.
