He laughed. “Nah, it wasn't even like that. That's my homegirl. I kept promising her a dance; my bad.”
I smirked. “Uh-huh. It sure is. And it's your loss, too. So go on back and get the rest of the cooties.”
He laughed. “Oh, damn. I don't have cooties.”
“I don't know that,” I teased.
“Well, come dance with me and find out.”
He grinned, licking his lips. And right there, I wanted to kiss him. I stared at him, trying to act uninterested. “Not tonight, playboy. I'm leaving.”
He smiled. “Playboy? Nah, that's not me.”
“Mmmph, yeah right. I can't tell. All night all I saw were a buncha chicks clucking around you.”
He laughed. “Yo, you real funny, for real. Wasn't none of 'em checkin' for me like that.”
I waved him on. “Oh, puhleeeze. That's what your mouth says. But I know what I saw.”
He laughed. “Oh, damn. It's like that? Let me find out you tryna put a claim on me.”
I tilted my head, sweeping my bang over my forehead. “Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not.”
He stared at me real hard, then broke into a wide smile. “You real feisty.”
I smiled back. “Yup. And don't forget it.”
Briana walked over with her hair pulled back in a ponytail and her lipstick wiped off from around her mouth, asking me if I was ready. She told me she'd bring the car around and pick me up out front. I waited for her to walk off, then said, “Look, it's been real. I gotta go.”
“A'ight, let me walk out with you.”
“Suit yourself,” I said, trying to act like I wasn't pressed.
“So, what's good with you? Where you from?” I tell him I'm from South Orange. “Oh, a'iiight. That's wassup. You a freshman?”
I shook my head. “No, I'm a senior.”
“A senior, daaaaamn. That's wassup. What's your major?”
“Dance.”
He smiled. “A'ight, a'ight. That's wassup. I've never seen you on campus before. You go to Seton Hall?”
I shook my head again. “No, South Orange Performing Arts Academy.”
He frowned, repeated what he heard. “
South Orange Performing Arts?
Wait, you're a
senior
in high school?”
“Yup.”
“Damn. That's a good school. You gotta be on top of ya game to get up in there.”
I shrugged. “Something like that.” But he was right. South Orange Performing Arts Academy is one of the hottest schools in Jersey. Shoot. . .in the country! And it's one of the hardest to get into. The only way you getting in is through an examination and application process. And then you better be bringing it in the classroom, or you'll end up on probation, then tossed out if you don't step it up.
He smiled. “I'm impressed.”
I smiled back. “Thanks.”
“So, how old are you?”
“Seventeen. . .well, I will be in two months. What about you?”
“I just turned eighteen.”
I smiled. “So, I guess you're too old for someone like me.”
He laughed. “Nah, you good. You seem chill.”
Briana pulled up, blowing the horn as if I couldn't see her. I shook my head. “Well, I gotta bounce. Nice talking to you.”
“Yeah, you too. But I didn't get your name.”
“That's because I didn't give it. It's Kamiyah. And yours?”
“Sincere.”
I smiled. “Nice to meet you.”
Briana blew her horn again. “Girl, will you hurry up already,” Brittani yelled out of the passenger-side window. “We're starving.”
“Yo, I'ma let you go. Can I get your number?”
I smiled, eyeing him real sexy-like. “Are you going to use it?”
He eyed me back. “No doubt. I wouldn't ask for it if I wasn't.”
I motioned him with my finger to come in closer, and when he leaned his head in toward me, I whispered it, grazing my lips against his ear. He grinned.
“Yo, I'ma hit you up tomorrow, a'ight?”
“If you do, cool. If you don't, oh well. It's your loss.”
He laughed, walking backward toward the house. “A'ight, hold that thought. Make sure you pick up.”
I opened the car door. “You just make sure you call.”
“I got you.”
I slid into the backseat, then rolled the window down as Briana pulled off, and yelled out, “If you don't call me by eight o'clock tomorrow night, lose my number.”
1
“H
aaaaappy birthdaaaaaaay, baby!” Sincere sings into the phone the minute he finally picks up. He sounds like he's all hyped to hear from me, but he could be fronting, too. 'Cause I know how boys do. They stay tryna gas a chick's head. So I already know what it is. I turn my lips up. “I was just getting ready to hit you up.”
Yeah, right!
For some reason I roll my eyes up in my head.
Mmmph
. “For real? I was wondering why you didn't call me by now. I thought you mighta misplaced my number or forgot what day it was.”
He laughs. “Never that. You know you're my baby.”
I frown. No explanation. No reason as to why in the heck he didn't call me
first
thing this morning to wish
me
a happy birthday. Nothing! I mean, really. I take a deep breath. Try to keep my 'tude in check 'cause your girl can light it up if need be. My mom'll tell you I have a nasty attitude. I'm telling you, my attitude is fine unless you wanna crank it up; then it's a problem.
“Hmm, if you say so,” I say, looking over my freshly painted fingernails. Girlfriend down at the shop really did me right.
“Whatchu mean by that?”
“Well, you say I'm your
baby
'n' all, but you didn't even text or call to wish me a happy birthday. What's up with that? I shoulda woke up to a text or voice message from
you
if it was really all like that.”
“Yo, c'mon, Miyah. You already know what it is with me and you. Don't do that.”
“Then why didn't you call me?” I ask, whining. I know I'm bratty, but still.
Anywaaayz, he tells me he's been out all day with his mom and left his cell home.
And ya point?
Even though I'm heated with himâwell, not
that
heatedâI'm still happy to hear his smooth, sexy voice.
“So are you enjoying your special day?” he asks, changing the subject. I let him think I don't catch it, moving on. After all, it is all about me, and I'm not about to spend it arguing with some boy who isn't even my man. Well, he is, but I haven't served him the official memo yet.
“Of course I am! And guess what I got?”
“What?”
“A BMW!” I tell him excitedly, forgetting that quick that I was feeling some kinda way toward him. I describe my whip to him in detail, talking a mile a minute.
“Damn, baby, slow down,” he says, laughing. “You mad hyped and whatnot.”
“Yes, I am. OMG, you have no idea how much I love them cars. I told my dad that's what I wanted, but I didn't really think he was gonna go out and buy it. I thought he was gonna buy me a three series, which woulda been cute, too. But this right here is the truth, baby. Ohmygod, it's so fly.”
“I bet it is. We gonna be riding in style now, huh? You won't have to ride up in my hand-me-down truck anymore, now that you got ya own whip.”
I suck my teeth. “Oh, puhleeze. I would hardly call your Range Rover a hand-me-down. I love riding in that truck with you.”
“And I love ridin' you in it.”
I giggle.
“I miss you,” he says, lowering his voice.
I grin, flopping back on my king-size sleigh bed. “I miss you, too. I'ma be back at my mom's Sunday night.”
Even though this is my birthday weekend, it also happens to fall on the same weekend that I stay with my dad. Oh no, my parents aren't divorced. And I don't really consider them separated. They still do things together. And I know they are still getting it in between the sheets 'cause she spends nights over here, and he spends time at our houseâ
sleeping
in the same bed with the door closed, okay? So you tell me what it is. They're very much married. They just happen to live in separate households. Oh, and get this: they both still live in the same town! I know. Crazy, right? But to me, it's normal 'cause this is how they've been living since I was eight years old. So, basically, I have two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and two walk-in closets packed with all the hottest wears. So I'm definitely not complaining.
“Around what time?” he asks, bringing me back to the conversation.
“Like around nine, I guess. It's up to my dad. We're supposed to be going into the city to have dinner with my sister, Erika, and her fiancé, so it all depends on what time we leave to come back.” Thankfully, we only live like twenty minutes or so from New York, so I won't be getting home too late.
My sister, Erika, is nine years older than me and lives in Manhattan with her extra-fine mocha-chocolate man, Winston. OMG, I like him so much better than that bum she was with before him. All they did was fight! Anywaaayz, she and Winston attend NYU's School of Law. And you should see the ice he put on her hand. Whew, it's sick!
“Oh, a'ight,” he says. “I wanna see you and give you your gift.”
“Oooh, you got me a gift!” I say, getting all amped, already knowing he was going to catch it something terrible if he didn't have a nice shiny trinket or something for me. “What you get me? I love gifts!”
“Slow down, baby,” he says, laughing. “Of course I did. You my boo. So you know I was gonna get you something special.”
And it better not be nothing cheap!
“Awww, you are so sweet.”
“Yeah, I know,” he jokes. “And you know what'd be sweeter?”
“What?”
“You stop playin' and admit I'm your man. You ready for that?”
“Mmmph, the question really is, are
you
ready?” I smile.
“Yeah, okay. I've been ready. You the one stallin'. Stop frontin', Miyah. Are you ready to be my girl or not?”
“Maybe, maybe not . . .” I laugh. “I'll let you know
after
I see my gift.”
“Yeah, a'ight. You already know what it is.”
“Oh yeah? And what's that?”
“You're mine. So make sure you come through as soon as you get home so we can make it official.”
Um, the way he says that sounds like he's
telling
me to be at his house, instead of
asking
me to. But I'ma let it go. I can tell Sincere thinks he's running things, but he has another think coming.
“What you doing tonight?” I ask, changing the subject.
“I don't know yet. Probably chill. Think about you.”
I smile. “Awww, how sweet.”
“You already know. I told you you're mine. So what's my baby getting ready to get into?”
I tell him I'm waiting for my mom to get here. That we're going to Medieval Times to have dinner. Then when I get back, Zahara, Ameerah, and Brittani are coming over to spend the night.
“Oh, word? And what y'all gonna get into?”
“Chill, watch movies, and probably eat all this birthday cake up; nothing major.”
“Damn, save me some.”
“I got you,” I tell him, cheesing it up. Whew, this boy's voice makes me feel tingly all over.
“That's wassup. Let me find out you got some dudes all up over there, too; there's gonna be consequences and repercussions.”
Um, hello, helloooooo . . . how in the world did we go from saving you some cake to dudes being all up in my space?
That's what I hear myself saying in my head. I suck my teeth instead. “Ain't no boys gonna be over here, biscuit head.” I get up off the bed when I hear a car. I peek through my curtains. My bedroom faces the front of Daddy's townhouse, so I have a perfect view of who's coming and going. It's my mom pulling up in the driveway. Late and wrong, as usual!
He laughs. “Yeah, a'ight. I got your biscuit head all right. But you heard what I said.”
“Whatever. My dad is not playing that,” I tell him as I watch my mom flip down her sun visorâto freshen up her lipstick or make sure she doesn't have a hair out of place, I'm sure. It takes her five minutes and thirty-seven secondsâI know because I timed herâto do whatever it is she's doing before she finally steps out of her Benz, looking like she's preparing for a photo shoot. That's how we Nichols women do it. Always fresh, always fly, and always fine! Yes, high maintenance, you already know. She still gets on my nerves, though. But that's a whole other story. “The only boy he seems to like is you,” I add, shaking my head. For some reason, Daddy's really taken a liking to Sincere. Probably 'cause he's a freshman in college, plays basketball, and is interested in pledging Daddy's beloved fraternity. So of course Daddy is gonna like him. Oh, Daddy's all about his frat. And he's dragged me and my sister to all of his alma mater's homecoming and step-show events every chance he's gotten, which is why I know so much about all the different sororities and whatnot. Anywaaayz, my boo says he's gonna pledge next year.
I watch Mom as she walks up to my new car, taking it all in. Of course she knows it's mine 'cause it has a big red bow on the front of the grill. I see her shaking her head. I already know what that means. She's going to try and give Daddy the business about the car.
She's such a hater!
I step away from the window, then go into my bathroom to remove my hairpins so I can comb out my wrap.
“Oh, word.” He chuckles. “That's wassup. My future frat brotha is mad chill.”
“Oh, puhleeze. What. Ever.”
He laughs.
“Kamiyah!” I hear my dad calling me from the bottom of the stairs, like he always does. I walk over and open my bedroom door.
“Yes?”
“C'mon, your mom's here.”
“Okay. I'll be right down,” I tell him, closing my door. “I gotta go.”
“A'ight, have fun.”
“I will. Thanks.”
“And don't be havin' no boys all up in ya face, either.”
“Well, don't you be havin' any chicks all up in yours,” I shoot back.
He laughs.
I don't. “Oh, you can laugh if you want. But, trust. I will bring it to a bird's throat.”
“No need for all that, baby. Like I said, you the only one I got eyes for.”
I roll my eyes up in my head, hard. “'Bye, Sincere. I love you.” I blink, blink again; surprised to hear those three words slip from my lips. Um, I can't even front. I'm really feeling Sincere. But
love
him
?
Um, I don't know if I'm ready to go that far, but I just did! Okay, okay, I'll admit I think about him
all
the timeâevery waking moment. And I get butterflies every time he hugs and kisses me. And listening to his sexy voice sends chills up and down my spine. But it is waaay too soon for me to say I love him. But I feel like I do. No. I
know
I do. And I already let it slip outta my mouth. Shoot, after nine weeks I should be madly in love with him. Okay, okay . . . dang, I'm lying. Truth is, I'm crazy in love with this boy! But I wasn't ready for him to know all that yet. Not until I had him completely wrapped around my fingers.
When Erika lived at home I used to always overhear her and her girlfriends talking about boys and sex and whatnot. And the times I was ear-hustlingâwhich was usually anytime her friends came overâI remember hearing her say,
If a guy tells you he loves you after less than a month, then he's probably a nut
. They would call little tidbits like that about guys the “Nut Alert.” Well, I guess that same rule applies to chicks, too. So the last thing I wanna do is be considered a
nut.
Well, I guess the verdict is gonna be out on that one, since I know it was love at first kiss for me over a month ago; and now I've put myself out there and said it to him
first
. But
wait
! Technically, it's after the one month mark, so then I'm not a nut. Whew!
“Aaah, that's wassup, baby.”
I frown.
That's wassup, baby
? Is he serious? Is that all he has to say? Didn't he just hear me tell him that I love him?
“Oh, so âthat's wassup' is all it is to you? I tell you I love you and that's the best you can do?”
“C'mon, Miyah, don't do that. You know how I feel about you.”
“Um, nooooo, I don't. I wanna hear it.”
“I'm real big on you, Miyah.”
I hear my sister's voice saying,
If a guy can't tell you he loves you after you've told him, then maybe he doesn't. That's why you never, ever tell him you love him first. This way you don't play yourself.
“Oh, so is that your way of nicely telling me you really don't?” I ask with an attitude. For some reason, I wanna go off on him. But it's like the words are stuck in the back of my throat somewhere, 'cause I know I have nobody but myself to blame for being the first to tell him how I feel.