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Authors: Ni-Ni Simone

Shortie Like Mine (10 page)

BOOK: Shortie Like Mine
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My face lit up. “Would you stop it!” I slapped his hand.
“Bite it.”
I bit a piece and started chewing. “That's good, ain't it, boo,” he said. “That's wassup!”
I fell out laughing and looked at Shae, who I knew couldn't stand that she was smiling and laughing at me. She pointed to my chin and when I felt it, I had ketchup on it. “Let me get that for you,” Josiah said, kissing it off.
“Boy,” I said, “you better stop. You gon' mess around and get me suspended.”
“Nah,” he said with a serious face. “I'ma mess around and make you mine.”
10
Addicted to how we kick it ...
 
—BOW WOW FEAT. CHRIS BROWN, “SHORTIE LIKE MINE”
 
 
 
“
Y
ou know you gon' help out with this project, right?” I nervously smiled as Josiah opened the front door of his house for me. He lived on Avon Avenue in one of the new split-levels that was recently built. I couldn't believe I was finally stepping into his spot and we hadn't officially put a title on our situation yet. I couldn't wait to see how he was going to introduce me to his mother.
For the last two and a half weeks, Josiah and I had grown really close. We talked on the phone everyday, ate lunch together, he gave me rides to work and home, and sometimes he would come by and we would sit in his car together and chill. For a minute it seemed like he was all I had. Shae still wasn't speaking to me; as a matter-fact, she changed her work days. I didn't have much to say to Toi, especially since I heard she was sneaking down to the county jail to see homeboy, who by the way tried to convince her to carry all the charges since she was still a minor. And other than coming home to see about Man-Man, my mother was purposely doing double shifts at work to avoid the stress of coming home. Needless to say I was holding my breath hoping I did a fierce job hooking my gear up, especially since I didn't have my usual fashion advice. Since it was chilly outside I wore a tangerine colored V-neck sweater, a brown leather braided belt wrapped around my waist, a fitted light blue denim miniskirt, wedge heel knee boots, and a hooded brown leather jacket with a big hobo bag. My orange plastic bracelets clapped together as I wiped invisible sweat from my brow and told myself to calm down.
Josiah looked me up and down as I stepped in his entrance way. “Dang, ma, who's your man? You look good.”
“I don't have a man.”
“Yeah, ai'ight,” he said as I walked into his living room and admired his house. The style was Afrocentric and everything seemed to have its place. His mother was in the kitchen with her boyfriend laughing when I followed behind Josiah and he introduced me. “Ma, this is my friend, Seven.” Hmph, his friend ... Seven ... no other title added on to my name, just Seven. Plain and simply, Seven. Ooookay ... moving right along.
“Hey lil' mama, I know you. You sat next to me at the game, when Miss Mama wanted to show her behind.” She rolled her eyes at Josiah. “Anyway, it's good to see you again, baby. This is my friend, Mr. Spenser.” There's that word again,
friend
. Maybe that was a code word between Josiah and his mother; an understanding that the two of them had, one that maybe I didn't quite get just yet ... especially since it was obvious that Mr. Spenser was more than just a friend. If nothing else, their body language spoke volumes: he was massaging her shoulders and her head was tossed back in the crux of his arm, as if his hands felt like silk ... Maybe it was just me who didn't care for being called simply a friend.
“Ai'ight, ma, we going downstairs,” Josiah said as he led me to the basement that was also his room. His room? Wait a minute, he was allowed to have company in his room? My mother woulda died, Cousin Shake would've passed out beside her, and my daddy, who had gone back to California and I was still avoiding every time he called, would've shown up for a special “my children are outta control” visit.
“Close the door,” Josiah said as he dimmed the lights and cut the radio on, which ironically was playing Ciara's “And I.” “You know this is our jam, right?” I smiled as I flicked the lights back on and closed the door.
“Oh, yeah?” This was the first time I'd ever seen him blush. “We got a jam?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe you should come here.” He grabbed me by one of the belt loops in my skirt as he sat on the edge of his bed.
“Maybe,” I said as he pulled me toward him, “we should prepare your science project.”
“Ai'ight”—he smiled—“that
is
why I called you over here.”
“Yes”—my heart thundered—“you did.”
“Actually it's not a project, it's a report,” he said. “And it's a big part of my grade. So I have to do well, otherwise it'll put my basketball scholarship in jeopardy.” He pulled his science books out of his backpack and sprawled them across the bed. He laid on his stomach and opened his notebook. “See, I have to do a report on the anatomy of the neurological system and what parts affect what parts, how, and why.”
“Okay.” I unzipped the sides of my boots, took them off, and lay down beside him. He was on his stomach and I was on my back, but we were face to face. “Let me see this book, since you looking to be upgraded.” I laughed.
“You gon' upgrade me?” He kissed me. “What's higher than number one?”
I couldn't answer because we started kissing and the next thing I know he'd climbed on top of me, which I quickly decided wasn't the best decision. . . and not because I didn't want him there . . . but because for the first time it made me think of things I never really considered before. And the feeling of his hands rubbing the sides of my thighs I knew would only take me places I would regret, so I broke our kiss and told him to get up.
“What, you scared?”
“No,” I said as he resumed his original position. “I'm just not ready for that.”
“Ai'ight.” He paused. “Let's do this report then.”
“Cool. Now before we start, I wanna know what does a science grade have to do with a basketball scholarship?”
“Because”—he gave me a quick peck—“like the scouts that are seeking me out said, I need to pull up my G.P.A. a little more in order to get my scholarship and I'm lacking in science. Plus I wanna get into Syracuse bad.”
“You looking at any other colleges?”
“Yeah, NC, A&T, Seton Hall, Rutgers. But I want Syracuse the most.”
“So then you have to work for it, and since you tryna become Shaq, then let's make an outline of what's needed for your report so you can get an A.”
“I surpassed Shaq, ma. I'm Josiah Whitaker, number twenty-three. Understand that.”
“You can stop feeling yourself.”
He stared at me. “Can we get back on the subject?”
“Yeah, and let me get out your face.” I handed him back his notebook. “Your mind is everywhere but where it needs to be.”
I climbed on his back, laid down, and placed my head over his right shoulder. We were now cheek to cheek. “Let me know if I'm breaking your back.”
“How you gon' break my back and I weigh more than you do? What you trippin' off of? You cool, ma.”
Was he trying to say I wasn't fat?
I'm not sure. But if I'm not fat then what am I?
Since I didn't exactly know what type of response I should come back with, I started reading his notes out loud with him.
By the time I helped Josiah finish his outline, I realized that I had actually done it.
“Don't make a habit out of me doing your work for you.” I kissed him on the side of his forehead.
“Whatever.” He smiled.
I climbed off his back. “I think I should be getting ready to go.”
He looked at the clock, which read six-thirty. “It's not that late, you can stay a little while longer.”
“Josiah ...” I whined.
“Ai'ight, cool. If you wanna leave, it's not a problem.”
“I'll stay ... but just a little while longer.” I sighed while looking around his room—which was the typical boy's room—posters on the wall, clothes piled in the corner, a full-sized bed, a futon, stereo, flat-screen TV, a few basketballs, and mountains of sneakers and Timbs. “So”—I picked up one of his basketballs—“how long you been ballin'?”
He held his palms up for me to toss him the ball, which I did. “For about as long as you been alive.” He made a shot and the ball went through the basketball net hanging on the back of his door. “Swoosh!! And the crowd goes wild . . . !”
“Because it's the opposing team's basket!”
“Funny!” He slid off the bed.
I picked up the ball and started dribbling before making a shot. “You know you really can't play that well,” I teased him. “Your game is like this.” I waved my right hand from side to side.
“Ohhhh ...” I could tell I caught him off-guard. “Is that so? Well, you talkin' a lotta smack for someone who couldn't even dream up how to ball.” He got behind me and squatted as if he were guarding me. I dribbled and moved around his floor, then I did a spin and threw the ball over his shoulder right into the basket.
“And now the crowd really goes wild!” I said as I profiled. Once I saw he was trying to take the ball from me, I grabbed it off the floor and started dribbling again. “Booyah! And what?!” I made a quick shot.
“You so corny.” He laughed while recovering the ball and tossed it back to me.
And just as I posed to make a basket, he stole the ball from me. “Oh, no, you didn't?!”
“I thought you had game?” He winked his eye.
“Ai'ight,” I said as I watched him prepare to take a shot with one hand. Before he released the ball I snatched it back.
He stood up straight. “Oh, you got that off,” he said, staring at me. And by the look he was giving, I could tell he was undressing me with his eyes and I didn't exactly want him to stop.
“What you lookin' at?” I smiled.
“You.”
“So what you lookin' at me for?”
“Come 'mere, let me show you.” He walked over and grabbed me around the waist. We started kissing passionately and I couldn't resist. I felt his hands traveling up my sweater and I knew I should've pushed them down sooner, but it took me a few seconds to go through with it. And I was able to do it without breaking our lip lock ... Then I felt him unzip my skirt and I stopped.
“I'm not ready for that.” His nose was buried in my neck.
“It's cool, ma.” He gave me one last peck. “But you way too hot to keep the goodies on lock.”
Now I knew it was time to go. “Can you take me home?”
“Why?”
“It's just getting late, that's all.”
“It's late or you scared of what you may do?”
“I'm not answering that.”
“Yo, I really don't want you to go.” He held my hand. “Let's just chill, watch a movie or something, but don't leave ... just yet.”
I hated that he was so cute. “You gon' keep your hands to yourself.” He placed one hand behind his back and I could see him cross his fingers. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“You know I see you, right?”
He laughed, removing his hand from behind his back. “For real, let's chill.”
“Ai'ight.” I grabbed a couple of his DVDs from his nightstand, plopped down in the middle of his bed, and crossed my legs Indian style. “So, what we gon' watch?” And as I looked through his collection of movies, I noticed I'd picked up a New York Yankees scully. I tried it on. “How do I look?” I shot Josiah a Kodak smile.
Josiah turned around and the smile he wore quickly faded. “Take that off!” he barked at me.
I was caught completely off-guard. “I'm sorry.” I placed it back on the table.
Josiah stood still and stared at me for a moment. “My fault. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that.”
“I didn't mean anything by that.”
“I know”—he paused—“it's just that ... that was my brother's hat. He had it on when he died.”
I couldn't believe Josiah had tears in his eyes. I got off the bed and walked over to give him a hug. “I know you miss him.”
“Yeah, it's been almost two years now.”
“How's it been around the house since he died?”
“Quiet,” he said. “It's been real quiet.”
“I understand if you don't wanna watch the movie anymore.”
“Come on, ma, it's cool. I'm enjoying you. I'm not ready to end the night.”
“Okay.” I sat back in the center of his bed Indian style. “So let's see ...
Love Jones.”
“I don't think so. No chick movies.”
“It's your movie.” I frowned.
“No, it's your mother-in-law's movie. She left it here when she was burning a copy for her friend. So you see that ain't me. No
Love Jones.”
“And why not?”
“It's a chick movie.”
BOOK: Shortie Like Mine
13.88Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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