J Cole Ethnicity Novels & Stories

Lucas faintly said as he looked at Cole. Cole paused momentarily, shocked as he looked at Lucas. He wondered if he had misheard him. 'This ordinary person dares comment that I said too much?' "Hey brat, do you know who am I?" Cole fixed his stare on Lucas and said coldly. "Oh? Who might you be?" Lucas let out a smile. "I'm Cole Morgan, one of the three geniuses of Anchorage college. My dad's a core member of the council of Anchorage Base City and is also one of the ten powerhouses of Anchorage Base City."

He said. Annie's mother pronounced the word just and nodded her head, Annie chuckled, she was sure her mother was trying to figure out what it meant to be an entrepreneur. But she wasn't ready to go into details, she will find her later. "That's good, and your parents, how are they are who are they?" She continue with the questions. "They are fine ma and they're the Coles, my father is Bankole Cole and my mother is Linda Cole." He said. "Wow, you're Yoruba?" She smiled.

I feel like the wind has just gotten knocked out of me. “What? Is this a joke?” I ask. Unlike Brooks and Maverick, who both had the telltale appearance of gang members—leather jackets, tattoos, rough appearance—Cole had none of those characteristics. He was immaculately dressed, refined, clean--cut. My first guess had been that he worked in finance. “Appearances are very important in my line of business, Jacqueline,” Cole says. “Oh, so you’re …” “High up?” Cole says, finishing my sentence, “Yes.”

The older man responded, and I couldn't work out if it was meant as a compliment or criticism, so I stayed quiet and instead got my first good look at the man. Jonah Mason was a large man, with a very similar build to Cole and I figured that it was a race thing considering every warrior I had seen so far was large in build, they also shared the same tribal markings on their arms, a sign of their race but that was where their similarities ended, Jonah was pale and looked washed out with his sandy coloured hair, Cole's dark hair and tanned skin came from his beautifully exotic looking mother. Elsie's dark reddish-brown hair was pulled back in a bobble and her golden skin was accented with just

Jennifer asked "I'm from the tribe of Judah" Sophia replied "Judah?" Jennifer asked "The tribe of Judah are the so-called African Americans,the tribe of Benjamin are the West Indians,the tribe of Levi are the so-called Haitians,we're the southern kingdom" Sophia replied "Okay,what are the others?" Jennifer asked

Cole cuts him off, raising an eyebrow in amusement. Jude scratches behind his ear awkwardly. "Ah, yes," he says, as if realising other people who have been in the same school with me for three years actually do know my name. Cole shifts on his feet, looking between us again, suspiciously. I almost squirm under his gaze. Cole is tall, like his friend here, which means he is sort of towering over me. He is also as good looking. Birds of the same feather and all, you know? He is dressed in black jeans, a black short sleeved shirt, and black boots.

I met Ailee first, we're very close, I can say that I'm closer to her than the others. Back in primary people used to call us aliens, because we were mixed-raced. Ailee is Asian-American, Luke is South African, Annabelle is Namibian. Jaden and I, you could call us Afro-American because our parents honored us with an uncommon combination but I prefer Angolan-American, I know it sounds different, weird. We spent most of our time together. There were also times were Annabelle would go on about marrying my twin, Jaden hated it so much that he even cried once because she wouldn't leave him alone.

I said as I threw the red one back in the closet. Don't worry, Cole and I were strictly just friends. One thing that you should know about Cole was that he was way too cute to be straight. First of all, he was half-Korean half-French, that was a deadly combo. He had a pretty face, his fashion sense was on point, and his family was filthy rich. Cole could get any girl to swoon for him if he wanted to, except he never did.

Mike Freeway wasn't the only man in Coal City with a nose for fast money. Joe Collins—just as well recognized in the back room's smoky atmosphere as J. Cole—had a gift for smelling opportunity where other men smelled gunpowder. Tall, dark, and patient, Cole lived on very little. His greasy black hair clung to his skull, his pencil-line moustache curled into a snarl, and his chin, shadowed blue from the previous night's shaving, was rarely tobacco-stained.

She moved in close, so her head was right next to his and their cheeks touching. "Oh look at you, Jules." She said, softly, looking at the mirror in front of them. "What's your ethnicity?" "My dad is Norwegian and my mom's Kenyan." She breathed. "You're absolutely beautiful. I'm so happy I remembered to bring my camera. You are art." He looked forward as well. Sparing his reflection a quick glance - noting his green eyebrows, vermillion tinted cheeks and the iridescent glow on his jawline. Before drawing his gaze back to her.