End Game
"I'll have you know. I'm a comfortable five feet seven. The average height for a male."
Quinton smirked, snatching the peanut butter from my hand. "You are still a lil nigga regardless."
"Yeah, who can still beat your ass any day."I shot back, snatching the container back from him.
"Oh, aight bet."
I barely had time to brace before Quinton lunged.
“AY—” I barked as he rushed me, arms out like he was about to wrap me up.
See, I wasn’t a defensive end just for the sake of it. So when Quinton charged, my body moved before my brain could catch up.
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