Cellblock Heat
Jordan
“Damn, Q,” I drawl, my grin tugging slowly as I lean back against the bunk, watching him. “Look at you. Standing tall like you ain’t been chained to that chair for weeks. All I’m missin’ is a camera and some confetti.”
He scowls, his arms shaking as he braces against the wall. “Don’t start with me, Jordan.”
“Who, me?” I grab my yo-yo off my bed, drop the watch back, then toss the yo-yo into the air, catch it, and let the string wind tight. “Nah, man. I’m happy you got to earn your reward.”
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