Page 256 of Kentrell

I didn’t say shit.

Just unlocked the door.

She slid in, adjusting her skirt, smoothing down her hair like she was tryna reset the mood.

The ride was quiet at first.

Real quiet.

I kept my eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel, the other resting across my thigh, fighting every urge to say what I already knew.

She kept trying though.

Giving me that fake sweet voice…

“So… you not gon’ ask me how I’m doing?”

Silence.

She giggled, soft at first… then louder when I still didn’t bite.

“Okaaaay… mood,” she teased, tapping at her freshly done nails like I was playing hard to get.

I stayed locked on the road.

Pulled up to a light.

Let my gaze drag over to her, slow and deliberate.

Her smile faltered just a little.

“Man, what’s to you?” She finally huffed, crossing her arms. “You been real distant and moody lately. You need me to suck yo dick or something?”

When I didn’t respond, she moved. Leaning over the console, hands going straight for my bed. Swatting her hands away, she glanced up at me shocked and confused.

“Trell, what the hell?”

I let the pause stretch… let her stew in it for a minute… then dropped it on her.

“Shaleyah Ann Thompson.”

Her whole body stiffened.

Like I smacked the air out her lungs.

Color drained from her face so fast it was like watching a filter fade off a photo.

She blinked… opened her mouth… then closed it just as quick.

I didn’t give her the chance to recover.

Didn’t crack a smile.

Didn’t soften my tone.

Just kept driving.

Silent.

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