Page 2 of The Late Hit
“Well, looks like it’s a good morning for you,” I greet Macy and her friend.
Her face flushes red as she lets her friend out the front door.
“Gregg, this is my roommate Brynn Wilder. Brynn, this is Gregg Carlton.” She introduces us as Gregg reaches his hand out for me to shake. “Thanks for last night, Gregg,” Macy says, turning her attention back to him.
Gregg leans down and kisses Macy on her cheek, her face turning even redder.
“See you around, Macy.”
He turns and walks down the three steps off our front porch and heads down the sidewalk toward the guest parking.
Shutting the door after I walk inside, Macy turns to me.
“I could say the same about you,” Macy retorts.
“Oh please, you know I stayed with Quinton,” I reply, placing my keys on the hook by the front door before heading into our kitchen.
As put together as I try to be, if I don’t put my keys on the hook right away, I’ll be tearing the house apart trying to find them. Once I put them in the freezer, and it took four hours to find them.
Macy is right on my heels, and we both make our way to the Keurig. Coffee is essential this morning. Caffeine is vital every morning, but especially today. I will never understand people who don’t drink coffee. That first sip of hot coffee rolls through my veins and warms up my black heart. It’s the absolute best.
Reaching up in the cabinet above our coffee cart, I pull down two mugs. One is a yellow mug that says“My anxiety is chronic, but this ass is iconic”and the other is a blush-colored mug with“Have fun. Don’t do stupid shit. Study hard. Go to class, Call Home”written on it. The mug is definitely not from my collection. While I’m grabbing the mugs, Macy is loading the Keurig with Death Wish coffee. Turning to me, she grabs a mug from my outstretched hand, places it under the drip, and resumes our conversation.
“When are you two going to give in to all of that sexual chemistry? I see it. Chloe sees it. Cody sees it. Everyone sees it but you two,” she says, leaning against the counter.
A sigh escapes my mouth as my eyes roll in a dramatic fashion. Grabbing my mug from under the Keurig, I take my first sip.
Ahh that first taste is like the perfect hit.
I can feel my soul waking up, putting Bitch Brynn to rest.
“Mace, I’m going to stop you right there. I’m too hungover to have this conversation with you for the hundredth time. Q is my friend. That’s it. End of,” I say, turning to head out of the kitchen. Before I make it all the way out of the room, I turn over my shoulder and say, “I’ve got to shower and head to class.”
Macy just stands there, leaning against the counter with a smirk on her face.
Quinton and I are constantly getting asked why we aren’t together. Even in college, people can’t understand our relationship. He’s my best friend.
Do I find him attractive? Of course. I have eyes and a pulse. He’s stunning, there’s no denying that.
Quinton Boyd has flawless, medium-brown skin marked with black ink. Tattoos line his left arm from his shoulder to his wrist. Across his strong chest is a giant eagle with its wings spread open, stretching from one pectoral muscle to the other. Inked down his rib cage on his right side is a detailed cross. His black hair is kept in a tight fade on the sides, with longer curls on top. A gold chain always lays around his neck with a small cross at the center—it was a gift from his grandma Cleo.
And his smile. Goddamn, Quinton Boyd has a panty-dropping smile, perfectly straight, white teeth and the tiniest dimple on his lower cheek, but only on the left side. The dreamiest brown eyes that remind me of rich dark coffee are outlined with an umber-brown ring.
But what makes him most attractive is his personality. He’s cocky, yet charming and protective, with a wild side. He’s a man of few words. The quiet one who sits back and listens. Quinton would give the shirt off his back for a stranger, and he’s the first person to help an old lady cross the road. Believe me, I’ve seen him do it many times.
But the thing is, I value our friendship too much to ever even think about crossing that line.
And I’m too damaged to be in a relationship, especially with someone as good as Quinton.
The next hour flies by as I shower and get ready for Friday classes. It’s the end of the first week, and I only have two classes. I throw on a black pair of bike shorts and an oversized graphic T-shirt with a pair of dad-style tennis shoes. Since I don’t have time to fix my hair or makeup, I settle for tossing my blonde hair in a claw clip. I am forever thankful to whoever decided to bring back claw clips—y’all are the real MVPs.
Quickly, I apply a small layer of mascara. It’s the only makeup I have time for. Before I leave my room, I put on my gold bar necklace that has the letter ‘B’ engraved on it. This necklace is my favorite possession, and it only comes off when I shower. I try to never leave the house without it.
Running down the stairs, I stop at the entry closet and pull out my backpack and grab my keys off the hook. Sitting on our entryway table is a cup of on-the-go oatmeal and a note.
B,
Didn’t mean to upset you this morning. Have a kick ass Friday.
