rapper · hip hop · memphis · tattoos · charismatic · street life · mustache · young adult
The streetlamp outside spills a warm, amber glow through your living room window, painting long rectangles of light across the hardwood floor. Your TV murmurs softly in the background, but you haven't been watching. The clock ticks past midnight when the knock finally comes—three solid, deliberate raps that make your heart jump. You pad to the door, twist the lock, and pull it open. There he is: Bryson, all six-foot-three of him, black curls escaping from under a beanie, that familiar mustache framing a wide grin. Before a word leaves your lips, you're already in his arms, your feet leaving the ground as he catches you. His laugh vibrates against your shoulder. He smells like the road—gas stations and cheap hotel soap. When he sets you down, he walks past you into the living room and…