The neon signs of Atlanta blurred into streaks of fuchsia and gold as Jack leaned against the velvet booth of a corner lounge. The bass from the speakers was a low thrum in his chest, but his focus was entirely on the cold glow of his phone screen.
Across the table, K. Camp was nursing a drink, watching the bubbles rise. He didn’t need to see the screen to know the vibe. “She’s playing the game, Jack,” Camp said, his voice smooth even over the trap beat. “You know how it goes. The minute you stop looking, that’s when it rings.” Jack Harlow - PICKYOURPHONEUP (feat. K. Camp)
“You’re late,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. The neon signs of Atlanta blurred into streaks
Jack grinned, his ego tucking itself away for the night. “Nah,” he whispered. “I’m right on time.” Camp was nursing a drink, watching the bubbles rise