Yearn by A. Ellis (story books for 5 year olds .txt) 📗

Yearn

Khi & Dre

A.D. Ellis

Thanks to J.R.G. for a couple of these EMS stories & Brian and Julie for the EMS information.

Always so grateful to have friends with so much knowledge.

To Tenise and Michael for being the first eyes on my work after it leaves my head. It’s always so hard to send a baby out, but I trust you two to alpha read.

To Anita for being my next line of defense against inconsistencies, errors, and holes.

Contents

Author’s Note

1. Andre “Dre” King

2. Khi Harris

3. Dre

4. Khi

5. Dre

6. Khi

7. Dre

8. Khi

9. Dre

10. Khi

11. Dre

12. Khi

13. Dre

Epilogue

Series Epilogue

Also by A.D. Ellis

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Author’s Note

Khi and Dre were created from the personalities and real-life experiences of real people. Their perceptions, opinions, and lived experiences may not be yours, but they are very real and very valid. Thank you for respecting this.

One

Andre “Dre” King

“Get in and don’t speak,” Khi ordered as he unlocked his car. He was parked outside of The Salty Lizard in Indianapolis where we’d spent the weekend with our friends and roommates celebrating Logan’s twenty-first birthday.

I rolled my eyes. “The entire drive back to Remington? I’m not allowed to speak?”

Khi started the engine and gripped the steering wheel as he took a deep breath. “Look, it’s ass-crack early, we have an unplanned required meeting with our boss, and we can barely stand to be in the same room with each other on a good day. Talk if you want, but I haven’t had caffeine and I can’t promise there won’t be bloodshed.” He backed out of the spot and we were on our way.

“I think that was more words in one breath than you’ve spoken to me since you moved in.” I settled in, tucking my long braids away as I tugged up my hood.

“We don’t talk. Makes things better,” Khi groused. “For everyone involved.”

He was right, we didn’t talk. Which was really awkward since we shared a room. But I wasn’t sure about the makes things better part. Khi and I had a history and it included a lot of animosity that seemed to have only festered over the past decade. Probably would have been better to work that shit out. I was leaning toward willing, but Khi had made it clear he wanted none of that.

I’d been living at my aunt Bev’s house—fondly referred to as Remington Place—for a short time when Khi had shown up. From what his sister, Gabby—an old friend of mine and now housemate—had said, Khi had been through a disastrous break-up and needed a place to regroup.

Lucky me, I was the only one with a spare bed in my room, so Khi and I were forced to room together. At first, I thought maybe we could clear the air, but I’d quickly realized Khi’s hatred of me was as solid as ever and he was fucked up over the break-up. Plus, we worked opposite shifts—yeah, another bit of luck, we’d both ended up as first responders on the Remington ambulance crew—so we barely saw each other. I slept while he worked, he slept while I worked, and we avoided each other as much as possible in between.

“Can we at least stop for coffee? I can’t face Julia without caffeine.” I slipped on my shades as the early morning fall sun peeked over the horizon. “Thought about fixing some before we left, but I didn’t want to wake the guys so early.” I huffed. “Can’t believe we have to miss brunch with our friends. I love a good friend brunch.”

Khi grunted and slipped in an earbud as if to block me out.

Whatever, fuck him. The guy had been a jerk in high school and he was a jerk now.

With hopes of a coffee stop on the way, I turned up my own playlist and attempted to doze. But damn memories of high school kept flitting through my mind like they always did when Khi was around.

Picture it. My freshman year. I’d been an über band geek and drama freak in middle school and entered high school with every intention of carrying that over. Band and theater were my passion way back then. Working with the costumes was an added bonus and probably where my desire to work in the fashion industry got its start.

Back then, I was opinionated, rich, sheltered, and under the impression I’d run the world one day.

I was also deeply closeted.

I shifted in my seat and frowned at the memory. In the closet wasn’t entirely accurate. At that point in time, I’d barely even allowed the idea of being attracted to guys to seep into my brain. I wasn’t exactly in the closet, more like in extreme denial.

But denial would have meant I’d admitted I liked guys.

Suffice it to say, mostly thanks to my mega religious parents, I was a fucking mess. But at that time, I didn’t even realize it. I’d changed and grown a lot since high school—thank God, even though a lot of that changing and growing had been at the hand of painful situations—but I doubted Khi knew anything about present me and only remembered past me.

And, hell, even I didn’t like past me.

I opened my eyes when the car slowed and made a turn. “Coffee? Bless you.”

“Gotta get gas. Don’t take too long, I’ll leave your ass here.” Khi opened the door and unfolded his long, solid body. The man was a grumpy asshole and always had been—at least with me—but there was no denying he looked amazing in joggers and a hoodie. And that ass in a pair of uniform pants was enough to make me need 911 services.

I climbed from the car and stretched. “Want anything?”

Khi looked at me as if I’d grown two heads. “No.”

Rolling my eyes in a huff, I shook my head and walked toward the gas station. It was early, surely to God they