The Girl of His Dreams (24 page)

He jumps in front of the TV, blocking my view.

I push him outta the way. “Move, boy. Let me finish, so I can toss you outta here. . . .”

He laughs. “Nah. I ain't leavin' 'til I get them cookies, yo.” He grabs me, then starts dancing, shimmying his shoulders and we both start acting a fool. Dancing and laughing. I bump him outta the way with my hip; he grabs me and starts tickling me. Then something changes. We start wrestling around. I hook my foot around his ankle, knocking him off balance. He hits the floor, pulling me down with him. We start rolling around on the carpet. Both laughing and tryna catch our breaths. I am on top of him. Then I don't know what happens. I mean, maybe I do. No, I do know what happened. He's looking at me. His hands are on my waist, then my butt. He squeezes. And before I can stop myself, I am kissing him. And he is kissing me back. I feel his hand under my shirt. I can't remember when he slides it up there, his hand on my boob. His lips pressed against mine.

Oh god! What in the heck am I doing? What if this boy tries to go all the way? Oh my god! And what if I let him?
It's been soooo long since I've made out with a boy. And the heat from his hands and his kisses is burning me up. I'm on fire. I try to pull away. Try to get up off him. But he has the nerve to pull me back into him and kiss
me
. And I kiss him back. And flashes of that first kiss, where our tongues danced and swirled right there in front of the whole lunchroom, flood my mind. Everything inside of me started to tingle that day. I almost lost myself in that kiss, like now, in his strong, muscular arms. There's no telling what I would have done if I hadn't pulled away and run up outta there, fast. I've tried to not think about that day, or the other times he's kissed me. I try not to think about him. But I do. And here we are, again.

Lip-locking it up.

Me on top of him.

His hands all over me.

And like that day in the cafeteria where it was like neither of us cared who was looking or what they were thinking, I am feeling things about this boy that I've never felt for any other boy. And that scares me. Making out with Antonio feels . . . good. No, great!

He's no good.

He's a player.

He's only out for one thing.

I know all of this, but I don't care. I want more. I want him.

His eyes have become dreamy slits of dangerous what-ifs. What if I let him? What if I want it? What if I can't stop myself?

“Wait, wait . . . I-I . . . w-we . . .” I'm panting. He's panting. “. . . gotta stop . . .”

“Nah, yo,” he pushes out, his hands still places I know they shouldn't be. “Let me get them cookies.”

We keep kissing.

“H
ow come you don't ever talk about your mom?” Miesha wants to know, lifting her head up from my chest. We're lyin' up in my room, listenin' to one'a Pops's old-school mix tapes wit' different love songs on it. This dude Lenny Williams is singin' 'bout how much how he loves some chick. I played this CD wit' other girls in my bed, but ain't never really listen to the words. But, tonight . . . lyin' here wit' Miesha in my arms, I really hear the lyrics. I
really
feel his pain. And I'm like,
Wow. He really poured his heart 'n' soul out to her. He really loves her.
And I realize, that's the kinda love I want. That's the kinda love I think I can have wit' Miesha. Real rap.

It's been two weeks, three days, and fifty-five minutes since our first date, even if that's not what she wanted to call it. That's what it was for me. That's when somethin' changed for me. But whatever. We've been spendin' mad time together, for real for real. And I ain't bored wit' her, yet. Real rap, I don't even think I can ever get bored wit' her even if I tried. She checks me real quick. And keeps me on my toes. And she doesn't let me have my way when I want it. I ain't gonna front. Sometimes it's kinda frus-tratin' like when I'm tryna get some from her 'n' she keeps puttin' me off. Yo, I ain't used to not havin' some kinda sex on the regular. At least three times a week, even when I want it e'eryday. But she's makin' me wait. I mean. Damn. She ain't passin' off on nothin'. And it's slooowly killin' me, yo.

“Boy, be clear,” she snapped last night when I was hoverin' up over her tryna undo her pants. She kept pushin' my hand away and finally told me to get off 'a her. And I did. “I'm not gonna be some easy lay for you. Oh, no, hun. You got the wrong one.”

“A'ight, Miesha. I got you,” I said, sighin' in frustration. I stood up. “You see what you got me goin' through, yo? You really tryna give a brotha blue balls.”

“Well, be glad you not getting you a batch of blue waffles.”

I frowned. “Oh, you got jokes. That's some nasty ish, yo. Let me get ya waffles, yo.” I grabbed her, tryna press up into her. “I'm achin' for you.”

She laughed, spinnin' outta my arms. She glanced down, then back up at me, tryna keep her eyes off my, uh, excitement. Real rap. She really makes it hard to stay focused. “And you gonna keep on aching, boy.” She walked over and picked up her lace bra on the floor, then put it on. “If what we do isn't enough for you, then maybe this isn't for you.”

“Yo, c'mon, why you buggin'? Take that off,” I coaxed, pullin' at it. “I'm cool wit' what we do. But, I'm sayin', yo. It's hard.” I glanced down. “Really, really hard.”

She rolled her eyes. “You stupid, boy.”

“C'mere, girl.” I pulled her in my arms and started kissin' her. “Where you think you goin', yo?”

“Home. I'm not...” I covered her mouth with mine. I wasn't tryna hear it.

“You ain't goin' nowhere, yo. It's mad early.” She stood there staring at me all sexy 'n' whatnot, then gave in after a few more kisses. Word is bond, yo. I ain't ever think kissin' a girl could have me feelin' some kinda way. I never thought just lyin' up in bed, holdin' a girl could feel so good. Right. Perfect. But it does. All of it, with Miesha.

It's like ish is too good to be true. That I really met a girl I'm diggin'. Not for what I can get outta her, or for what I think she can do for me, but for
who
she is. And, yeah, I ain't gonna front. I wanna tap that, bad. But, it ain't the only thing I want from her. I want her love, yo. And I wanna love her back.

I haven't loved any other female since...

“Or have any pictures of her in your room,” she continues. Her eyes are locked onto mine.
Because my pops said she was dead, so we had to leave any memories of her behind. We had to bury them
.
And bury her.
Of course I ain't gonna tell her all that. But I feel like I gotta tell her somethin'. She's like the first girl who really even asked me 'bout her. That woman. The one who walked outta me 'n' Pops's life.

I take a deep breath, shifting my eyes from her gaze. “There's nothin' to talk about.”

She rubs my chest. Then turns my head back to her. She's lookin' at me in a way no other girl has. Wit' care. “What was she like? You know, before she died?”

“I really don't wanna talk 'bout her,” I say, feelin' myself startin' to drown in things I'm not tryna remember. My past. My fears. I shift my body so she's no longer lying on me so I can sit up. “Can we talk 'bout somethin' else, yo?”

“I don't mean to pry,” she says, all soft 'n' sexy. And the way she says it as she's lookin' at me wit' them dreamy eyes is makin' me feel...I don't know—weak, like I'ma 'bout to crumble or some ish. Miesha's really tryna pull me back to someplace I ain't tryna go. Someplace dark. And lonely. She leans over and kisses me on the cheek, then lightly on the lips. “I just wanna know everything about you.”

I smile, leanin' in 'n' kissin' her. I just wanna block it all out. Push back the thoughts. Push back the pain 'n' anger, yo. Her kisses help, a lot. We kiss for a long minute 'n' when I pull back, she got my head spinnin'. “I know you do. It's just hard for me to talk 'bout that part of my life—about her.”

She touches the side of my face wit' her soft hand. No girl has ever touched me like this. I don't ever remember feelin' like this except when I was a lil boy. When I felt loved. And wanted. And special. That's what
she
made me feel like. That's what
she
told me I was. That's what
she
made me believe. And then
she
snatched it all away from me, just like that. My whole world turned upside down. And now I've let this girl into my heart, get all up in my head 'n' open myself for...I don't know. For her to do somethin' to hurt me, too, just like
she
did.

I wanna tell him it's a lil too late now. But I know Pops'll be lookin' at me some kinda way, like I'm soft or somethin'. But I'm startin' to think that openin' ya'self to care 'bout someone or love 'em doesn't make you soft. It makes you . . . vulnerable. That's how I feel wit' Miesha, yo. Like I'm all out in the open. Like I'm transparent. And she's here, lookin' through me, in me, at me 'cause I let her, 'cause I want her to see me in a way no one else has.

I take a deep breath. I try to swallow back a lump of emotions. But e'erything kinda pushes its way outta me and before I know it, e'erything I thought I'd never say, or think, or feel, comes rushin' outta me. “She bounced on me, yo.”

Miesha blinks. “Who? Your mom?”

I turn my head to avoid her eyes. “Yeah. She didn't die. I lied. I've always lied about it because the lie never hurt as much as the truth. That one day I woke up and my moms was gone. She walked outta my life, yo.” I turn to look at her. “What kinda woman does that, yo? Leaves their kid 'n' never comes back? How you think that made me feel, knowin' she wasn't ever comin' back?”

“Oh my god, Antonio,” she says, huggin' me. “I'm sorry. I can't imagine how that was for you. I know my mom pisses me off, but . . .”

“Yo real shit, I'd give anything to have a mom to piss me off. But I don't. Mine bounced. She ain't want me.”

She climbs up into my lap 'n' wraps her arms 'round me 'n' kinda just rocks back 'n' forth, rubbin' my back. And it kinda calms me. “I'm sure she loved you; maybe something happened for her to leave. Did you ever ask your dad? Maybe something happened between them.”

I nod, chokin' back hurt. “Yeah.”

She keeps rubbin' my back 'n' rockin' me. “What did he say?”

I blow out a long breath. “That she didn't want us anymore. She abandoned me, yo.”

Miesha cups my face, lookin' at me all teary-eyed 'n' ish. “I'm so sorry she did that to you.” She plants kisses all over my face, sayin' over 'n' over, “I'm so sorry.” We start kissin' 'n' this time they feelin' kinda different. Intense. This time it's
her
hands all over me. This time, she's tuggin' at my shirt, my shorts, my underwear, strippin' off e'erything. And I let her. Crazy thing is, I already felt naked long before she ever took my clothes off.

“O
ooh, you scandalous tramp,” Mariah says, barging into my room. She plops down on my bed. “You better tell me everything! And I do mean
everything
! Start to finish. I want all the dirty details; leave nothing out!”

“Girl,
boom
!” I say, putting a hand up in her face. “What are you talking about?”

“Don't you sit here and play Miss Innocent with me, hooker. I saw Antonio Lopez drop you off late—very
late
—last night, then tongue you down in the driveway.”

“Oh my god,” I say, hopping off the bed. “I don't believe you. What in the world are you doing spying on me?”

“
Spying
on you? Girl, quit! You were right out in the open. Y'all were going at it so hot and heavy I had to turn on my fan, okay? Now divulge, little Miss Hooker. I want to know, are the rumors true? Is he swinging low and heavy, boo? Give it to me raw and uncut. Chop, chop!”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” I say, tryna figure out a way to tell her enough to shut her up, but not enough to have her looking at him, too. I mean, I know she gotta man whom she is madly in love with. And, yeah, we're real close. But,
boom-boom!
Tre thought she could trust her own sister with her juicy sex saga and the trick did her in. Her own sister slept with her boyfriend. Then Tre and her sister got into a big nasty fight, clawing each other's faces up and yanking out weave tracks. Oh, it got real messy. Yeah, he was grimy for doing it to her, but she was dead wrong for pushing up on him in the first place. Sooo, no. Mariah can't get too much of the details. I'm not gonna tempt her to ever do me in.

She's staring at me, brows raised, lips smirked in suspicion. “Okay fine, we kissed. And made out some.” She narrows her eyes. “Okay, we made out a lot.”

“Fine, be like that,” she pouts, grabbing one of my pillows from off the bed and throwing it at me. I sidestep it, then pick it up and throw it back at her. “But tell me this. Did.
You
. Sleep. With him?” I bite down on my bottom lip, tryna hold back a grin. “Oooh, you nasty ho. I knew it!”

“Oh my god, will you be quiet? I don't want my business all over the house. Geesh.”

She dismisses me with a wave. “Please. It's not like Aunt Rhonda was home when you got here. Besides, she didn't crawl up in here until three o'clock this morning. Thirty minutes after you,
okay?
”

“OMG, who are you the door patrol? What were you doing up that time of night anyway?”

She laughs. “I had just snuck Brian up outta here a few minutes before you came home.”

Now it's my turn to ride her. “Oooh, and you talk about me. Who's the real tramp in the room? You, boo.”

“Girl,
boom!
Brian is my man. Now, what's Antonio to you? Last I heard you was only going to get with him to get at that loudmouth Quanda, not sleeping with him in the process.”

I shrug. “It just happened.”

She raises her eyebrow. “What just happened?
You
sleeping with him, or you
falling
for him?”

But I don't get a chance to say it 'cause there is a knock at the door. And it's my mom. “Ooh, you lucky,” she whispers, getting up from the bed. “But we will finish this conversation. Trust.” I laugh as she opens the door and lets my mom in.

“What time did you get home last night?” she wants to know, standing there looking all wild and crazy in a flimsy robe. Her hair's all over her head. Black liner all smeared up under her eyes.

“Why? What time did
you
get home?”

“Miesha, don't play with me, girl. I'm grown. You're not. Now what time did you—”

I press my lips together and shake my head. Just because she's the adult and can come and go as she pleases, that doesn't mean I want to hear it. So I cut her off when I say, “When are
we
moving back to Brooklyn? Because it seems like you spend more time there than you do here, where you claim is home now. But it's mighty funny I'm the only one stuck here.”

She puts a hand up. “Miesha, don't.”

I put a hand up on my hip. “Don't what, Mom? Don't question you? You leave up outta here to go to work on a Monday and don't step back up in here until two and three days later. And don't even say you have trainings. 'Cause guess what? I called your job two days ago. And they said you were off. And I called Daddy's job, and ding, ding, ding. . . he was off too. So what's really going on here?”

She blinks.

“It's not right that you dump me off on Aunt Linda like I'm
her
responsibility. You wanted to move us here. But you're hardly ever here. Yeah, I'm seventeen, about to be eighteen. And, yeah, I can take care of myself. But I keep telling you, you don't get to pick and choose when
you
wanna play mommy. And, yes, I'm counting down 'til my birthday; then I'm going back to Brooklyn with or without your consent. And I mean it.”

She sighs. “You know what, Miesha? I'm tired. Do whatever you want. You're right, you'll be eighteen soon, so do what you're gonna do.”

I shake my head at her. “Oh my god, so now once again, you're the victim here.” I laugh. “What a joke!”

She narrows her eyes to icy slits. “I'm warning you, girl. You're really pushing it, Miesha.”

“Mom, don't you get it? I. Don't. Care. I'm pissed at you, okay? And you don't seem to care about it.”

“What the hell are you pissed about, huh, Miesha?” she snaps, walking over and slamming my bedroom door shut. “You wanna have it out, then let's! Let's get it all out in the open once and for all!”

I yell back at her, “Why the eff do you keep going back with Daddy if all he's gonna do is keep hurting you, huh?! I'm pissed that you get to go back to Brooklyn to lay up in our house with a man you left because you said you couldn't take him hurting you anymore. But here you go, again, right back to the same place you swore you wasn't gonna ever be back in!” I stamp my foot, pointing at her. “And I'm stuck here!”

“What do you want from me, huh?! I love your father, okay?! I'm weak for him. I know he's a cheater. And I know he's a liar. But he's mine! And I know that man loves me. He loves both of us. But right now, I want him to myself. I don't wanna share none of his other women. And I don't wanna share him with
you . . . !”

Oh my god! I feel like I've been punched in the gut. Everything in me hurts. And before I know it, I am bending over clutching my stomach, crying my eyes out.

She doesn't want to share her husband, my father, with his own daughter. Is that what she thinks she's been doing all these years,
sharing
him with me, like I'm the one who's taken him away from her? Oh my god. I'm hyperventilating. “I-I-I don't b-b-b-believe this! Y-y-you're j-j-jealous of m-m-m-my relationship with m-m-my d-d-d-dad-d-ddy. Ohmygodohmygod.” I plop on my bed and curl up in a ball. “Get outta my room!” I can't stop crying.

“Miesha, I didn't mean it like that,” she says. She's sitting on the bed, next to me, rubbing my back. “I-I-I'm sorry. That didn't come out right.”

“Get away from me! You said exactly what you meant. And you said it just
how
you meant it!”

“I only meant we need time to ourselves, alone time, to work on us.”

“Yeah, without meeeee! Like I'm the problem!” She tries to explain herself, but I'm not hearing her. My own mother is jealous of my relationship with my father. I feel like she's stabbed me. And I can't stop bleeding. I can't stop crying. “Just get out! And leave me alone!”

“Miesha, I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to say it that way. I would never do anything to come between your relationship with you and your father. I know how much you mean to him. And I know how much you love him.”

“Then let me go live with him! Let me go back home where I wanna be! It's not like you want me, anyway! I hate you! I hate you! Just leave me alone!”

She gets up from my bed, and walks out, closing the door behind her. I cry so hard that I start coughing and gagging.
I gotta get outta here!
But I can't move. Mariah comes into my room. Tries to talk to me, to see what happened. But I can't talk. I just keep crying. I wanna go home! I hate it here! I try to open my mouth to say something, but the words are stuck in the back of my throat.
I gotta get outta here!