Page 33 of His Favorite Felon

I glanced at her.

She sat there with her legs crossed, her purse resting on her lap, her face turned toward the window as if the conversation had already ended. The streetlights flickered across her face every few seconds, adding a soft glow. She looked beautiful, stubborn as ever. I felt tempted to reach over and gently pull her across the console, knowing she would probably curse me the fuck out. I could tell her mood had drastically taken a turn, so I chose to keep driving.

“Okay, bet. So, you booked and busy. Got it. I wasn’t trying to give away my goodies tonight anyway. I was just enjoying our time together,” I joked, but I was serious at the same time.

Her head whipped toward me. “Your goodies?” She burst out laughing. We rode in silence as we listened to my oldies playlist.

The shit felt too normal — her in my passenger seat — us arguing, playfully, of course. I ain’t never been in the presence of a woman who made me want to give her the attention I desperately wanted to give Trouble.

She had innocence and that fight in her, and I wanted to explore both. I wanted to put her in her soft girl era, and I wasn’t opposed to her cursing me out either.

Her acting like she didn’t like me as much as she did was comical. Tonight went as planned. I was able to be myself and get her guard down so we could enjoy one another, so she could get to know me, the real Chance and not Chase bitch ass.

I wish I could explain why I was so infatuated with Justice, everything with her felt natural when nothing about how we got here was.

I admired Justice because she truly embodied what she stood for. She had a quick wit, piercing eyes, and a tough attitude, yet she secretly guarded a kind, soft heart. This realization had been really weighing on me all night, especially after Chyanne.

I could still hear my sister’s voice.

Why are you letting her think you are Chase? I understand he gave her your name, but why are you going along with it? This isn’t like you, brother.

I shifted in my seat, and she noticed.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing, why you ask?” I questioned.

“No reason,” she stated and turned back toward the window.

And just like that, another piece of my guilt settled heavier on my chest. I pulled onto her street and then into her apartment complex. When I parked, she reached for her purse and thought she was about to give me a clumsy ass, see ya’ later, and dip.

“Trouble, don’t open that fucking door.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, come on. I’m tired and could possibly throw up any second now.”

I knew she was serious because when she got out of the car, her words were slurred, and she was tripping over her own feet. I had to stop her from hurting herself.

“Trouble, slow down, please. I’ll make sure you get home safe, but you gotta let me help you, baby.” She allowed me to pick her up. Her legs automatically wrapped around my waist and her head rested on my shoulder.

I was not in the mood to deal with her like this. Not that I wouldn’t take care of her, but it’s mainly because I can’t take care of her the way I would if she was at my home.

“Baby, I need you to tell me your door number.”

She mumbled something, and because I was lit myself, I had to stop to really think about which balcony she threw the keys on. As I made it to the second floor, a door opened.

“Oh my god, Justice,” the woman said, rushing over towards us.

“Are you her sister?”

She interrupted, “No. She’s at her boyfriend’s. I’m Sage, their best friend.”

“Ok, bet, nice to meet you. Can you let us in and show me where her room is?”

She thanked me several times as she moved to the side to let me in. She told me she would call Justice’s sister, Jamie, to let her know her sister made it home.

I wasn’t used to wanting women to stay. Usually, when the night ended, I was gone. I was busy making moves, pulling up on my opps, chasing money, and people waiting for me. Women accepted that role. Justice? Justice had begun changing things without even trying. I wanted to bring her home, but since that didn’t happen, my body was urging me to stay with her.

I’d only known Justice for twenty-four hours, if that, and I was already letting her get away with murder. Crazy part was I didn’t even care. I just knew I wanted her, so I had to have her. End of story.