Page 144 of Chosen By a Baller 3: Playin’ For Keeps

“I’m always sweet.”

I stared at him, and he stared back.

“Now you know you lying.”

“Man, help me finish my damn painting.”

I laughed as I moved back beside him. “Okay, but this time, actually listen to me.”

“I been listening.”

“Kyrie, no the hell you haven’t.”

“Yes, I have.”

“Then why your sky look like it’s fighting for its life?”

He looked at his canvas, then cut his eyes at me.

“See, this why I don’t like doing shit with your ass.”

I burst out laughing. “You just said you liked doing this with me!”

“That was before you started talking shit again.”

“You’ve been talking shit since we walked into the art store.”

“And?”

“And you can dish it, but you can’t take it.”

“Nawl, I can take it.” He dipped his brush into the paint. “I just don’t like your ass doing it.”

“Sounds personal.”

“It is.”

I laughed as I moved back toward my canvas. “Whatever, Kyrie.”

We went back to painting, and for the next few minutes, he actually managed to keep his mouth shut. Music played softly in the background while I worked on blending the colors across my canvas.

I was so focused that I didn’t notice Kyrie had stopped painting until I felt something cold swipe across the tip of my nose.

I froze and slowly turned my head. He sat there with a little paint on the tip of his finger and the most satisfied grin on his face.

“Kyrie.”

“What?”

“Did you just put paint on my nose?”

He leaned closer like he needed to inspect his work. “Damn. I think I did.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.” His grin widened. “Looks good on you too.”

I stared at his ass. This nigga really wanted to play.