Page 29 of Drill Session

Silence fell between us. A steady, warm breeze from the air conditioner was the only sound breaking the silence. His chin rested on the top of my head, while one hand caressed my booty, and the other arm stayed wrapped around my body. This felt like home… Drill felt like home. I didn’t want this with no one else and I couldn’t fathom it.

“You have to teach me,” he spoke up. His deep baritone sliced the silence like a knife.

“Teach you what?” I asked questionably.

“How to love you,” he murmured then cleared his throat. “Teach me how to love you.”

“Are you willing to learn?”

“Akira,” he let my ass go and placed it under my chin, gripping the cusp of it gently. “The first step a man has a take is accountability. I don’t need to be healed. That part has been covered already. I've made many mistakes in my life, some of which haunt me to this day, and I've made so many terrible decisions that I regret. I've been granted countless second chances by God, only to let each one slip through my fingers. I can’t you slip through my fingers, baby.”

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach at his statement. I deserve an undeniable love. My dating life was wrecked and filled with the disgust of kissing frogs to get my prince. Drill was my prince. He was the man God placed in my life. It doesn’t have to be perfect but making it worth it is all I ask for in the end, when it’s all said and done.

CHAPTER10

Feb. 12th

“Nigga will you calm the fuck down. You make me paranoid and shit, all that pacing back and forth like a bitch ass nigga,” Derrick spat from across the room. He was sitting at his kitchen table, rolling up a blunt. I pulled up on him because Akira needed me to pick up some stuff for her on the way to her spot. Chopping it up with Derrick had her blowing up my damn phone, texting me crazy ass shit.

“I ain’t pacing back and forth hoe ass nigga.” I grimaced at him and pulled out my phone to send Akira a text message, telling her I was on the way for the third time in two hours.

“I don’t understand the big fuckin’ deal. You act like you’re about to propose or some fucking shit.” He spat, after he flicked the lighter to spark the end of the blunt then taking a hit, filling up his lungs.

My smoke sessions were spent alone. I don’t match weed with niggas. It’s something about passing a blunt around or back and forth, don’t sit right with me.

“I don’t need your opinion about shit. Wouldn’t expect shit romantic from yo dog ass, when you proposed to yo girl in the parking lot at Waffle House,” I spat with a snicker. “I still can’t believe you for that lame ass shit.”

As he toked from the blunt, he peered his eyes over at me before turning the corners of his lips into a smile. Just as he was about to strike me with some bullshit, he started choking on the smoke. Clouds of smoke seeped from his mouth into the air.

“Nigga fuck you!” He snapped. “I’m still getting backlash from her because of that shit. I wasn’t expecting them motherfucka’s to record that.”

Catching his vulnerability when he poured life into his girl speaking of a future, hoping she’d say yes, somebody inside the diner recorded them and posted it on social media. So many niggas called him corny, cheap as hell and lame. That was farfetched, but a nigga will do anything from being pussy whipped. Plus, he found a rider behind bars, being locked up taught him a lot, after so many bitches turned their back on him. Despite all that, he admitted his love for her to me a while ago, asking for my opinion. Now, he was returning the favor, and I was standing before him with wet eyes, confessing my love for Akira.

“How you feel about what I told you though?” I asked him in a more serious tone. “You think that’s a good way to ask her to be my valentine or do I need to some of over-the-top shit?”

With a slow head nod, he dipped the tip of the blunt in the ashtray and stated, “I feel like the way you’re doing it; she’ll appreciate it. Akira been dramatic as fuck all her life, but she’s simple, ya feel me? She buys herself nice shit, because that’s how my uncle and aunt raised her, but she grew up surrounded by love, so that’s what she likes. Just don’t break her heart nigga, that’s all I ask of you. She got too many shooters behind her, that’ll split yo shit back. I love you like a big brother, but when it comes to Akira, I don’t play about that girl, nigga,” her warned me.

Taking a seat at the table, my arms rested on the wood with my elbows pointed outwards. “Don’t ever insult me, bitch,” I spat. “I ain’t a pussy ass nigga. Her worth is high valued.” My eyes darted into space as I thought about the last few days being without her. It was that space we had apart that made me understand that having her in mine is much better. She shouldn’t have to second guess that.

“Long as you play your part, you’re cool with me. I’d never thought I’ll be alive to see the day, you put the words Akira and I into a sentence and it actually counts. The fuck type of voodoo you put in my cousin nigga? She better not be pregnant.”

A sly grin appeared across my face as I shook my head. “She fuckin’ wit’ a big dog now. That’s all you need to know.”

“I ain’t the one you need to answer to though. It’s when my uncle finds out,” he responded with a smirk. “Nigga gon’ lose his shit,” he continued.

Slightly shrugging my shoulders, he was the least of my worries, but I wasn’t going to boast about it. Derrick knew that shit. Him not granting me his well wishes didn’t stop me from pursuing Akira and her father was light work. Make no mistake, I never tucked the way I felt about Akira under a mat. So confessing the way I feel about her to her father is a piece of cake and if he deems me as a threat or unworthy of his daughter, then that’s his problem, not mine.

* * *

After kicking it with Derrick,I knew I couldn’t come into the house empty handed, if I’d been declining her calls and slow texting her. So, I stopped by the grocery store on the way to her house before pulling up and calling her to let her know I was outside. The bitching and bickering she was going to do; I could hear it in the back of my head. My car was in park and her black RX 350 Lexus wasn’t outside, so I knew she’d parked it in the garage. Usually, when she knows I’m on the way, or when I tell her I’m outside, she leaves it open and let me park my car inside, no matter how much I addressed her safety and my digression about it.

“You have reached the voicemail box of?—”

With the phone clutched in my hand, I pulled it back and frowned. Going to her messages, her phone wasn’t on do not disturb, so I figured she blocked me again. When I tried to call her back it went to voicemail again. I used my work phone to dial her number, and it rang a few times before she picked up.

“Hello,” her sultry voice spoke into the speaker.

“Why you got on me blocked when I told you I was on the way?”

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