Page 111 of The Don's Virgin Obsession
Ever since Vaughn kicked us out of that room at the Ritz, her energy toward me changed. Real weird slick shit. Less friendly. More competitive. Like, somehow, we both walked out losers, and she needed somebody to blame.
Unfortunately for her, I was in the mood to argue.
I was sitting on my couch in one of Vaughn’s old T-shirts, drinking wine, scrolling through Instagram when I saw Nia repost something that read:Stop forcing friendships with girls who secretly compete with you.
I laughed hard as hell. “Oh, bitch…”
I clicked her page immediately. As soon as I did, another post went up.
Some girls only pretty with a group around them
Yeah.
She had me fucked up tonight. I went straight to X.
Some bitches mistake being passed around for being chosen.
Not even thirty seconds later, my phone started ringing.
It was Nia.
I answered instantly. “What’s up, hoe?”
“What’s up, bitch?” she snapped right back.
I laughed and took another sip of wine. “You posting subliminals like a hurt girlfriend.”
“You worried about the wrong shit. Worry about why that nigga stopped calling you.”
“That applies to you, too, dummy.”
That was the real issue.
Vaughn.
“You’ve been weird ever since that threesome, asking like we ain’t fuck,” I told her.
Nia laughed dryly. “Bitch, I only did that for Vaughn.”
“Bitch, please. You thought a threesome was gon’ get you a relationship.”
“That nigga knew ME first.”
“And still ain’t picked your ass. He also told you to leave first, too.”
I hated how bad that line landed because, honestly… neither of us got picked.
Nia sighed through the phone. “Something changed.”
I leaned back against the couch. “Yeah.”
“You think that live with his ex fucked him up?” she asked.
“It wasn’t the live.”
“How you know?” she challenged.
“That man mentally checked out before Milan ever hit live. But do you remember what she said?” I asked.
