Page 167 of The Coldest: Stay Dangerous Part 2

As soon as my seatbelt is on, he drives off. Delicious aromas waft into the front seat, and when I look back, I see tacos from one of our favorite places.

Stapling my lips with my teeth does nothing to hide my smile. So I just settle into my seat and enjoy the ride.

“Just text Auty and give into her ego like you usually do. You know she starts tripping when it’s too many changes, and she’s never seen me like this with a guy.” I push the rest of my last taco into my mouth, moaning at both the cheesy goodness, and Rico rubbing my feet in his lap.

We’re at a view, deep in East Kenton, near the edge of the city. There’s nothing out here but wildlife.

“And how exactly are you different with me? You don’t even claim me, foreal.” His thumb digs into the sole of my right foot, and I swear it’s a straight shot to my pussy.

“Why would I claim community dick? How do I know you’re not using that extra key I know you swiped for the cock lock?” I use my other foot to rub across where his dick should be, grinning when I feel the plastic of the cock lock encasing my favorite toy.

“Community dick and homie hopper sounds like a power couple to me–”

I lean over and throw my trash at him, snatching my feet back. He slowly grabs the empty containers and cardboard box, folding it up before placing it in the bag the food came in.

“You always do too much,” he seethes. “I just got my shit detailed.”

“I don’t give a fuck! Don’t call me a homie hopper!”

“Well, that’s what you are,” he says, cutting his eyes to me as he picks up cheese and crumbs one by one from his hoodie. “Ain’t nobody tell you to go fuck my nigga on some get back shit. Shoulda just held it down until I came back.”

“Ha!” I pull my legs under me and lean back on the passenger window. “Whether I fucked Set or not, I was never holding it down for yo dirty dick ass.”

“My dick dirty but you hopping on this muthafucka any chance you get. And I know fasho you gagging on this dirty ass dick all the way home.” He dusts the crumbs into the bag, then puts it behind his chair.

My lip curls, watching his movements. “Bet that diseased thing won’t come nowhere near Miss Snowflake anytime soon. You gon’ have hair on ya hand.”

“Yeah, aight,” he mumbles, grabbing his phone out of the middle console, but I snatch it back from him.

“What?”

Rico sets his murderous glare at me. “I said, ‘yeah, aight.’ On Baby, ain’t nobody scared of yo lil’ ass, Snow. Now hand me back my fuckin’ phone ‘fore I actually get mad.”

I hold out Rico’s phone so my Face ID can unlock his phone, then go to his texts. “Ain’t nobody scared of you either, nigga. Who’s texting us off an unknown number?” Not waiting for an answer, I click the thread.

It’s some type of code I can’t decipher, but I’m certain it’s not anything from a woman, so I exit out of his otherwise boring inbox and go to his social media.

“Aight then, where yo phone?” He’s lightning fast as he reaches over and snatches my clutch from the floor of my seat. I try to grab it from him, but he mushes me, before grabbing his gun and setting it on his lap.

I roll my eyes, meeting his glare head on.

“You acting like you got some shit to hide? Do I really need to shoot yo pinky off to show you nobody playing witcho thot ass?”

“You know what–fine! Can’t do shit nice for your ungrateful ass. Go through my phone. Go on!”

“I was gon’ do that anyway,” he snaps, unlocking my phone with my code and going straight to the messages.

I know exactly when he sees the unknown number. His face balls up, and his thumbs tap angrily as he scrolls up to the beginning of the message. Slowly, his face smooths out, and then his tongue ring slides across his lip, before he locks my phone and peers out the windshield.

We’re quiet for a long time, though the car buzzes with all the things we don’t say. I place his phone into the middle console where it was, then climb into the backseat.

He follows me, and I settle into his arms, before he moves us until we’re both laying down, facing each other.

“You something else,” he whispers, his finger tracing my freckles on my cheek.

“Do you like it?” I whisper back. The gift I got Rico for his birthday was bullshit, since his real gift wasn’t ready yet; an iced out pendant of a picture of his mother holding him and Fredo when they were babies. Everyone always says they look like Pooh, but the picture of his mother in the medallion could be Rico without his new facial hair.

He already has a pendant of Fredo, so I’m nervous about it. I didn’t know if he’d like it, and I know he wouldn’t wear it every day. But maybe for special occasions, like the other guys do. And it goes with the watch he thinks I don’t know he got to match the one he’s giving me for my birthday.