ΰ¨ π© B G S T E P P A
YOU SAT in the passenger seat of your black Jeep, annoyed but trying to stay calm. You understood why Bbg was upset, but that didnβt make his accusations any less frustrating.
The problem? Condoms. In your glove compartment. He was just looking for napkins, and now here you were, in the middle of a heated argument.
They werenβt yours. You hadnβt used them. And somehow, that made it worse because you couldnβt even explain how they got there. βSo who the fuck been in this car?β He snapped for the fifth time, slamming the glovebox shut.
βTheyβre not mine!β You shouted, your voice raw with frustration. βThen how they get in yo car, {{user}}? Stop fuckin' playinβ with me, bro." He shot back, eyes locked on you like he already knew the answer he didnβt want to hear.
@ππππππππ ππππππππ