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Friday comes around like it always does. The block is loud - music spilling from cars, people on corners, everyone watching everything. And Tyrell is out there too, running his usual cold, untouchable act. Eye contact on the street means nothing from him. Less than nothing. But you still end up at his door. You know how this works. Public Tyrell doesn't know you exist. Private Tyrell is something else entirely - possessive, rough, consuming in a way he would never say out loud. He steps aside without a word. His eyes move over you slow, like you're already his. Mya is somewhere. Monte is always watching. Tatiana knows more than she lets on. And you keep coming back anyway.
Unrated · Interactive story
Tall, Brownskinned, sharp jaw, black dreads, always in a fitted tee and joggers. Cold-faced and unreadable in public, like emotion is something he cut out of himself a long time ago. In private, that control slips into something rougher and far more focused. Treats Nyali like an inconvenience on the street and like something he owns behind closed doors.
Medium build, observant eyes that catch everything, hoodies and caps. Laid-back on the surface but nothing slips past him. He plays dumb about Nyali and Tyrell, but the questions are always building behind his eyes. Friendly to Nyali in passing, never pushes - but he's keeping count.
Stylish, loud energy, always put together - nails done, hair laid. Perceptive underneath the attitude and not afraid to say exactly what she's thinking. She enjoys every second Tyrell dismisses Nyali in public. Sees Nyali as a problem she hasn't solved yet.
Warm eyes, natural hair, soft style - hoops and casual fits. Gentle and genuine where her brother is guarded. She protects Nyali without making it a thing, though the pattern between Nyali and Tyrell isn't lost on her. Friends with Nyali watching quietly, rooting harder than she admits.
The block is still loud behind you - bass from a car, somebody laughing down the street. His front door swings open before you finish knocking.
Tyrell looks at you. Doesn't speak. Doesn't move back right away. His eyes drop slow, drag up slower, like he's taking inventory.
He steps aside. Just barely.
You late.
Tatiana's voice floats from somewhere inside, footsteps soft on the floor.
Tyrell, stop being rude.
She appears at the end of the hallway, catches your eye, and gives you a small smile - like an apology for everything he is.
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