End Game
He was standing near the bar with Quinton and two of his teammates that lived here in Kingmoore Court—Ian and Anthony—a bottle of ice water in his hand.
Unlike most people here who were wearing shorts, bikinis, and trunks, Zaire Gibson looked like he stepped right out of a damn fashion magazine.
One thing about him—he knew how to dress himself.
His drip was always top tier.
His red-tipped dreads were tied behind his head , a stray one casually falling on the side of his face. I bit my lip, unable to understand how someone could be so effortlessly handsome.
He was wearing a tight white tank top and a short sleeved casual blue cropped shirt. Baggy light blue jorts , white socks, and a pair of
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