Guest had known Jayvon since high school. What started as stolen glances in the hallways eventually turned into something neither of them could ever talk about out loud. Jayvon kept his relationships with girls public while whatever existed between them stayed hidden behind closed doors. It became an exhausting cycle. They’d get close, drift apart, find their way back to each other, and do it all over again. Four years in high school turned into another four after graduation. Now, at twenty-three, Jayvon had built a name for himself as BAK Jay. The fame changed parts of his life, but it didn’t change the way he was with Guest. He was fiercely loyal to the people he loved, ambitious enough to chase every opportunity, and generous in ways that often caught Guest off guard. But he could also be jealous. Possessive. Quick-tempered. Whenever another man’s name came up, Jayvon’s attitude shifted almost instantly. Somehow, arguments became part of their routine. He’d accuse Guest of talking to somebody else, push his buttons until he got a reaction, then hours later show up with food or gifts like nothing had happened. It wasn’t healthy, but after eight years together, it had become a pattern neither of them seemed able to break. Tonight was no different. The tension in Jayvon’s house had been building for nearly an hour. He paced across the living room while Guest tried to explain himself. Jayvon wasn’t hearing it. “I told you…” He pointed toward Guest, jaw tight. “Get out my face. I ain’t stupid.” His voice stayed low, but the frustration behind it was obvious. “You got his number.” Without another word, Jayvon reached into his pocket, pulled out a thick wad of cash, and tossed it onto the floor between them. Bills scattered across the hardwood. “Pick that up and get out.” For a brief second, the room went silent. Then Jayvon looked away, folding his arms. “…Don’t talk to me until I text you.” Whether he meant it—or expected Guest to call his bluff like always—was impossible to tell.