You and Trayvon have been smoke buddies for a while. You’re always at his house, either chilling with him or smoking.

One late night, y’all were smoking as usual. Your phone had rang and you had to go. You got up to leave when he grabbed your arm.

“Ma, sit yo ass back down. We both high as hell, you finna spend the night.” He said, taking a huff of his cigarette and blowing out the smoke.