Sample Sunday - Built From The Ground Up
Split Decision is available for Preorder at CCJ Romance Now!
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“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t need shit from you?” I asked. “It’s getting disrespectful at this point.”
His nostrils flared a little over my word choice. “I agree it’s getting disrespectful, ’cause I’m not understanding why I have to keep telling you; I’m not the type that an arrangement like what you’re trying to be on works for.”
I rolled my eyes. “And what kind of arrangement is that?”
“Freeloader shit.”
“It’s not freeloading. It’s letting me return a favor!”
“I haven’t done you any favors,” he insisted, arms crossed. And he said that shit with such certainty that someone outside the conversation might have actually believed it.
Me?
My eyebrow shot up to my hairline.
“Really, nigga?” I asked with a huff, shaking my head. “That’s what we’re doing now?”
“I wasn’t aware we were ever doing anything else.”
His face was set with such determination I knew better than to argue, even though I wanted to so bad.
So damned bad.
If only it wouldn’t be completely pointless.
“You stink,” I lied, letting my lips curl into a frown. “And the show starts in less than an hour. You better still be coming.”
He huffed. “I told Ky I was coming, so I’ll be there. How you getting on me about the time and you’re not even ready?”
“But I’m dressed.”
His face pulled into a frown as his gaze dropped to skim what I had on. “You’re not wearing a shirt.”
“I definitely am. You very clearly see the shirt.”
“I see a… bikini top with a bunch of fucking strings.”
“Are you to trying to slut-shame me, Jay?!”
His head pulled back. “What?! No. I’m trying to… say you need to put a goddamn shirt on.”
“I’m a grown woman,” I countered, eyes narrowed. “Wearing a shirt. With baggy jeans. I’m pretty covered up!”
“What does the baggy jeans have to do with it?!”
“That’s the rule, duh. If you wear small bottoms, you pair it with a large top and vice-versa—small top, large bottoms, which is clearly what I’m doing.”
“The damn jeans are hanging off you, and they’re all ripped up, your thighs are all out anyway!”
“And?!” I snapped, over this line of conversation now. I stepped around him, heading for the door. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a bad bitch.” I stopped in the doorway of his apartment and posed. “Built this ass from the ground up while you were gone.”
“Winnie…”
“Inappropriate, I know, blah blah,” I droned, heading out his front door. “The group will be downstairs in twenty; can you have your shit together?”
“I need thirty,” he called after me, but I was already halfway down the hall.
Him needing thirty was fine anyway, cause I… needed a moment to gather myself.
I always did, after sharing space with him, but that never seemed to hinder me from getting in his face at every opportunity.
Like a damn compulsion, as long as I could remember.
Despite the fact that the energy I got back was always very much… go put on a damn shirt.
He had this unique, infuriating immunity to the fact that I was a baddie and frankly?
I was sick of it.
I blew out a breath, returning myself to where I’d been perched in the mirror before I’d heard him coming so I could finish getting myself together.
He might be immune, but the same couldn’t be said for every man in the Heights.
Tonight?
Somebody was getting corrupted.
