Hoodie (18 page)

Emma said nothing. She stared at the papers on the floor.

“What’s really botherin’ you?” Anton asked. “‘Cause I don’t think it’s about meetin’ each other’s friends.”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. She flipped carelessly through the novel, careful not to look at him. “Are we friends?” she asked quietly.

“What?”

“You heard me. Are we friends?”

“‘Course we’re friends,” Anton said.

“So after this project is done and after we graduate, we’ll still be friends?” she asked.

Anton thought for a moment. “Well, sure, if you want.”

“Please,” Emma said coldly. She felt an unjustifiable anger rising within her. “We’ll never talk to each other after this. What the hell is the point of all this?”

“Do you wanna be friends with me after this project?” Anton asked. He was confused by her sour mood. “It ain’t no big deal. If you wanna stay friends, we can stay friends. What is yo’ problem?”

She could not voice her frustration. She was not sure exactly what that frustration was. She panicked at the thought of the project ending, school ending, and the very real possibility that she would never see him again. She had not even known him for that long—a week and a half at most—but they had spent so much time together. Nearly every day, she realized. And she liked being with him. He made her laugh constantly. She wasn’t sure how they ever got any work done. They seemed to always be laughing. She liked coming over to his house. She liked wearing his hoodie. She wore it even now because his bedroom was cold. He had it ready for her—told her she could wear it anytime—and helped her put it on. Then it hit her like a hurricane force wind. She was in love with him. Oh God, she was in love with him! It had taken less than two weeks!

“You on yo’ period or somethin’?” she heard Anton ask.

“What?!”

“You just all pissy today. I can’t figure it out. Look, I didn’t mean no disrespect when I axed you that.”

Emma shot him a nasty look.

“Okay, I guess you on yo’ period,” he mumbled to himself.

She got up to leave.

“Wait, I was just playin’. Come on, Emma, don’t be like that,” Anton pleaded.

“I’m not being like anything,” she said, taking off the hoodie and throwing it as hard as she could at his face.

“What the hell?” he asked behind the fabric.

The hoodie fell from his face revealing a large grin. He tried to suppress an urge to laugh. She wanted to smack him, knowing all the while that she was being ridiculous. He had come to realize that this was the way of women. Never know what you’re gonna get, he thought. She’ll be all sunshine and smiles tomorrow.

“I have to go,” Emma said, gathering her papers and books. “It’s late anyway.”

“A’ight then,” he said.

He moved to open the door for her, but she stormed out before he could. She didn’t bother to say goodbye.

***

She didn’t know why she returned. She had just left. It was getting late and she knew her parents would be angry. She called them on her cell phone and explained that she needed to stay a little longer. They believed she was still at Morgan’s, and the guilt of lying to them made her chest feel tight.

She knocked on the door softly. At first there was no answer. Maybe he had gone somewhere, she thought panicking. She prayed silently that he was still home, knowing she would never have the courage to try again. She knocked for a second time more determined. He opened the door then, his brows furrowed in a question.

“You forget somethin’?” he asked.

She pushed past him into the small living room.

“I don’t know. I . . . I think I might have,” she lied.

He said nothing but led her to his room. He stood in the doorway and watched as she pretended to look around.

“What you think you forgot?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said unable to look him in the face. Did he know her true intentions?

“I didn’t notice anything,” he continued.

He seemed oblivious which only made it harder for her. She would never be able to voice out loud what she wanted. She was too afraid that he would reject her.

“I had on a bracelet,” she lied. “I’m sure I had on a bracelet and now it’s gone.”

“No you didn’t,” he said.

“Yes I did!” she screamed unexpectedly. She looked at him then, her eyes beseeching him, and his lips curled into a smile.

He knew.

“Come ‘ere,” he said softly.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said desperately.

“Come ‘ere.”

She obeyed and walked towards him. She was inches from him and felt like she would die if she could not touch him. She reached her hand to his face—she needed to feel the silk of him—but he drew back.

“You really wanna go there?” he asked. “You wanna get with a nigga?”

He watched as her chest rose and fell rapidly.

“Don’t talk like that,” she whispered. She was fighting down the urge to jump on him. But she didn’t know if she wanted to hold him or claw at him. She thought that perhaps she needed to do both.

“Talk like what? ‘Nigga?’ I’m a nigga if you hadn’t noticed,” he teased. He flashed his teeth in a brilliant smile then licked his lips. “I don’t normally kick it with white chicks,” he continued watching the contortions of her face. He knew she was thinking fast and hard. She was in emotional turmoil, and it was amusing to watch. “Not that I got anything against white chicks. They can hang, I guess.”

“Forget it,” she said bitterly. She tried to push past him for the front door, but he grabbed her upper arm.

“Who you think you fuckin’ with?” he asked, the ghost of a laugh in his voice. He bent low to whisper in her ear. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with wantin’ it. I ain’t even gonna lie.” His lips brushed her ear, and she shivered. “I want it, too. I want you. I’ve wanted you from day one.”

She didn’t know if he meant from the first day they began the project or from the first day he ever saw her. Frankly she didn’t care; it was all she needed to hear, and she pressed her body against him feeling his arms envelop her. They were strong and dark, contrasting starkly with her white skin. She lifted her face to him and only then felt the tear slide down her cheek. He bent to kiss it, but it evaded his lips and fell to the floor. He looked at her face and smiled. She was crazed inside. He couldn’t help but imagine for a moment what she would do to him in bed.

“Please kiss me,” she said hoarsely.

“I will,” he said and released her from his embrace.

She stood there confused. The warmth of his body still lingered on her, but she felt it fading fast and was reluctant to let it go.

“What do you want? You want me to beg?” she asked angrily, wheeling around to look at him. He was sitting on the edge of his bed watching her.

“Nah. I want you to come here and sit on my lap,” he said patting the tops of his thighs.

She was at a loss for words.

“You comin’?”

“I have to be home soon,” she said.

“That’s your answer?” he asked.

She paused for just a moment before going to him and settling herself on his left leg. She tugged on her skirt, trying to pull it down over her knees, but it covered her just to mid-thigh.

“You so tiny,” he said playfully. “You prolly weigh, what? Eighty, ninety pounds?”

She shook her head as he bounced her lightly with his knee.

“I don’t wanna just jump into bed with you,” he said. He brushed her hair over her shoulder and turned her face to look at him.

“You must think I’m a ho or something,” she said. Her face was red with embarrassment.

“Please, girl. You the furthest thing from a ho.” He placed his hand on the back of her head pulling her gently towards his face.

“Wait. You’ve got to say something else.”

“Huh?”

“The last thing you say to me before we kiss for the first time can’t be ‘you’re the furthest thing from a ho’,” she pleaded.

He laughed. “A’ight.” He pursed his lips and looked up at the ceiling in consideration. “Okay. How ‘bout this? I think you kinda cute.”

“Kind of cute?” she asked.

“Okay really cute,” he said. “Actually, you fine.”

She couldn’t wait for him to make the first move. She grinned and pressed her lips hard against his. They were soft and plump, silky and foreign. She relaxed and softened then, letting him gently explore her lips with his own. She opened her mouth to him feeling his tongue search her tentatively at first, then more forcefully. Her tongue mingled with his, tasting honey, and she felt the tingling moving down her throat, through her chest, twisting through her belly to rest in between her legs. She couldn’t understand her inability to restrain her desire. It was animal. She didn’t want to sleep with him. She wanted to fuck him.

He knew he should keep it strictly at a kiss. Going any further would be too fast, and he wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted. He imagined she wanted more, and he tried to justify his own desire by convincing himself that they had actually spent more time together—an inordinate amount of time—in the last week and a half than most couples do in their first month of dating. Yes, he thought, that sounds right. It wouldn’t be imprudent to assume she’d want his hands all over her.

He moved his hand down the side of her neck to rest lightly on her breast. It was a question, and she answered by pushing herself against his hand, inviting him. He wasted no time going up her shirt, fumbling with the clasp of her bra until it came undone in sweet success. He fought to control himself as his hand pushed under her bra to rove over her soft breasts, feeling her shake slightly, kissing her harder even as he willed himself to slow down.

He wanted to take his time with her, but he couldn’t. He felt the mixture of power and shame at his unchecked sexual excitement. He should stop. It’s only been a week and a half, he thought. We’ve only just kissed. He knew he should send her home even as his hand left her breasts to touch her in between her legs.

She gasped but did not resist. His fingers moved her panties aside and stroked her softly. They slipped in and out of her tenderly, and she heard herself moaning into his mouth, fighting the rising climax. It hovered dangerously close to the edge.

“You have to stop,” she said into his mouth.

“Are you crazy?”

He continued his exploration with more urgency knowing what it was doing to her, knowing she wouldn’t last long. She was charged from the moment she walked through the door, and he knew his decision was the right one. A kiss wasn’t enough. She needed release.

“Please,” she whispered.

She tried to get up, but he held her firmly on his lap with his left arm around her waist. She could do nothing but wrap her arms around his neck and bury her face in his shoulder. She felt her hips moving against his hand, his fingers stroking her in a hip hop rhythm.

Her climax came violently, and she was powerless against it. All of the heavenly bodies burst, exploding in her stomach and rushing like white waters through her legs. She held onto him, saying his name over and over as the rapids coursed through her, slamming against her bones, obliterating them. He turned her to liquid. She cried out tasting the tears at the corners of her mouth. She could not control them. They flowed freely and abundantly, and she pushed her face harder against his shoulder trying to hide. She shook hard, sobbing, and he wrapped his arms around her firmly, pressing her to him, stroking her back.