The Girl of His Dreams (25 page)

Y
o , word is bond. Miesha got my head spinnin'. I don't know what she did to me, but last night she put it on me. Had me curlin' my toes 'n' singing out Drake's “Best I Ever Had
.
” And real rap, I wanted her to stay the night, ya heard? I wanted to wake up to her in bed wit' me. Heck, I mighta even got outta bed 'n' fixed her some breakfast, for real for real. That's how good she put it on me. She had'a go home. But, man. I ain't wanna stop holdin' her. And I definitely didn't wanna stop doin' what she was doin' to me.

She rocked me so good, all'a brotha could do today is lay in bed 'n' think 'bout the work she put in. I'm drained, yo. I yawn 'n' stretch as my cell rings. I glance at the screen. It's Alicia. “Yo, what's good?”

“You,” she says all low 'n' sexy. “You wanna chill today?”

Now I ain't gonna front, I'm kinda thinkin' 'bout it, but only for a minute, though. “Nah, yo. I'm good,” I say, lookin' over at the poster of Beyoncé.

“Oh, okay. But if you change your mind, hit me back.”

“No doubt,” I say, glancin' over at the clock. It's almost one o'clock.
I wonder what Miesha's doin'
. “Listen, yo. I gotta go. I'll holla at ya later.”

“Okay, bye.”

I place my cell back on the nightstand, gettin' up to use the bathroom, then headin' downstairs to raid the fridge. I grab an apple 'n' chomp into it while I nuke the rest of some Popeyes chicken. When I finish eatin', I wash it all down wit' a tall glass of Sprite, then head back upstairs.
Damn, shorty did me in
, I think, ploppin' back on my bed. I grin, replayin' our night over in my head. But my cell disrupts my thoughts. I reach over on the nightstand for it, and grin when I see that it's Miesha. “Yo, what's good, sexy? I was just layin' here thinkin' 'bout you, yo.”

“Are y-y-you home?” she asks, soundin' all muffled, like somethin' done happened to her.

I sit up in bed.
WTF?!
“Yo, what's wrong? You a'ight? What happened?”

“I just gotta get outta here. Are you home?”

“Yeah, yeah. I'm here.”

“Can I come over?”

“No doubt. Do you want me to come scoop you? You sound outta it, yo.”

“No. I can drive. I'm gonna get in the shower. I'll be over in a few.”

“A'ight. Be safe drivin' over here, a'ight?”

She sniffs. “I-I-I will.”

“A'ight, cool. I'll see you when you get here.”

I end the call, wonderin' what done popped off that got my baby upset. Now I'm ready to go in someone's mouth for comin' at her all crazy 'n' makin' her cry. I pace my room, tryna calm it down 'n' wait for her to get here before I start jumpin' to conclusions. I pick up the clothes tossed 'round the room from last night, change my sheets, then hop in the shower.

Twenty minutes later, I'm downstairs in the kitchen gettin' somethin' else to drink when the doorbell rings.
Good, she made it.
I don't look through the peephole or outta the window 'cause she's the only one I'm expectin'. But when I swing the door open, it ain't Miesha. It's Quanda.

I look over her head out toward the driveway. “Yo, Quanda, what the eff you doin' here?”

“Tone, please,” she says, lookin' all pitiful 'n' whatnot. She stares at my bare chest. “I really need to talk to you.”

I shake my head. “No, you gotta bounce, yo. We ain't got nothin' to talk about, yo. I'm not beat for the drama. I tol' you all I'ma say.”

“Im not tryna bring you any drama. I just need to talk to you, and I'll leave. Ten minutes, that's all I'm asking for, please.”

Now my gut is tellin' me to slam the door in her face, but somethin' in my head is sayin' to just listen to what she gotta say, that maybe if I just listen to her, she'll finally see that it's over between us. I tell her to wait a minute, then shut the door in her face, goin' back into the kitchen to get my phone. I text Miesha, walkin' back to the door. U left yet?

I open the door again. “Talk. But make it quick.”

She blinks.

No not yet. Still gettn dressed

k, I text back, decidin' in my head that I have 'bout fifteen, twenty, minutes before she gets here—enough time for Quanda to say what she gotta say, then dip.

“Can I please come in?”

Nah, she's only gettin' ten minutes, then I'ma put her out
.

I step back, pullin' the door open wider. “A'ight. I let you in. Now what you wanna talk to me about?”

She sighs. “First, I wanna apologize to you.”

“For what?”

“For everything. I was wrong for going through your phone and for acting all crazy when you slept with other girls. I know you always kept it real with me. And I know you told me from the gate that you were gonna sex other girls from time to time. I just couldn't handle that. I thought I could. But it was hard for me because I really started catchin' feelings for you, Tone.”

I glance at the time on my phone. “Look, can you speed this up? What you gotta say, Quanda? 'Cause so far I'm not hearin' jack that's keepin' my attention.”

She blinks back tears. “Tone, why are you treating me so mean and nasty? All I ever did was love you.”

I gotta laugh to that. This chick ain't love me. She loved the sex. She loved bein' able to sport me around as her man. That's it.

“What's so funny?”

“You, yo. You standin' here talkin' 'bout you loved me. Why'd you love me, yo? Answer me that.” She hits me wit' some BS 'bout knowin' how'ta make her feel, that I made her feel loved. I shake my head. This broad's confused. “Quanda, all we ever had was good sex. There was no love, yo. Not by me. I mean, yeah. I
liked
you. But
love?
Nah. I ain't tryna be mean, yo. But the only thing I loved from you was the sex. That's it. And then when I tol' you it was a wrap between us, you wanna start buggin', actin' all reckless 'n' whatnot. For what, yo?”

I don't wanna go in on her, but damn. She needs to hear it once and for all that I'm done. That there is never gonna be
us
or
we
. I want her to hear it loud 'n' clear. It's. Over. “I want—nah, I need—for you to fall back, Quanda. Like for real for real. Let this crazy ish you got goin' on in ya head go, yo.”

She swipes at her face, wipin' tears. “You really like
her
, don't you?”

“This has nothin' to do wit' Miesha, yo. This is 'bout you. I don't want you, yo. Why can't you just accept that?”

“I know you don't want me. B-but . . . it's been hard for me to let go of you. I mean, in my head I know it's over. In school, I see you with
her
. And I know it's over. But, it h-hurts. It hurts seeing you with
her
. When you were just having sex with other girls it bothered me, and I was mad, but it didn't hurt—not like this. I
know
you like that girl. I can tell by the way you look at her. It hurts knowing you never looked at me like that. It hurts knowing you don't want me. I know, I know...I finally get it. It's over. And I know
she
didn't do this to us. I did. But my heart won't let me let you go, Tone. I know I need to. But it's hard.” Her shoulders start to shake. “I-I-I know I messed up things with us. And I know I can't do anything to change it. And it . . . hurts.”

Quanda buries her face in her hands, then falls to her knees and bursts into tears.

I ain't never see her like this. All broken up 'n' ish.

“C'mon, Quanda, yo,” I say, walkin' over 'n' tryna help her up. “You gotta pull ya'self together. You gotta let me go, feel me? This ain't good, you know what I'm sayin'? I'm not gonna ever be wit' you, yo.”

“I know, I know, I know,” she says wrappin' her arms around my neck 'n' holdin' on wit' all her strength. I try to pry her arms from around me, but she won't let go. “I won't ever bother you or her, again. I promise, Tone. Just kiss me, please. Let me feel what you give
her
, please. Kiss me and do it to me one last time, please.”

“C'mon, yo,” I say, tryna push her off me wit' out man-handlin' her. “You wildin'. I ain't kissin' you, yo. And I ain't 'bout to sex you. How that sound? That's crazy, yo. Like, you buggin', for real for real. It's over.” She starts tryna wrap her legs 'round me 'n' the next thing I know she's kissin' me on the mouth 'n' I'm tryna get her off 'a me, movin' my head outta the way. I'm wrestlin' wit' her to get her off'a me. But she won't let go. She keeps pleadin' 'n' beggin' me to get wit' her. She's not hearin' nothin' I'm sayin'. Her legs, her arms, she's wrapped all tight 'round me like an octopus. “Yo, Quanda, for real, get the hell up off 'a me, yo. C'mon. I'm not playin'.” I trip on somethin', maybe she tripped; all I know is I fall back over the arm of the sofa 'n' she falls on top of me.

“I love you so much, Tone. Just do it to me. I wanna make a baby with you. . . .”

“Oh my god! What the hell?!”

I jump, pushin' Quanda off'a me. She hits the floor. I left the front door open. Forgot to close it. Nah, I ain't wanna close it 'cause Quanda wasn't s'posed to be here long. “Yo, Miesha, hol'up . . . it's not what you think. I, I mean she was, um . . .”

“Kissing
you!
” she snaps, backin' outta the door. Quanda gets up from the floor. And the next thing I know Miesha bum-rushes her 'n' they start goin' at it. “You skank-azz ho! You didn't get enough of me beatin' ya face in the last time, did you?” Miesha is hookin' off on her, like a dude. Real rap, I ain't never see a chick rock like this. And I'm kinda shook that she's gonna crack Quanda's neck back.

“Ho, he ain't ever gonna be yours!” Quanda yells, swingin' her arms around like a windmill all fast 'n' hard. “You're not enough woman for him, trick.”

Miesha swings her into the coffee table. And things start smashin' to the carpet. I'm tryna break them up, but they fightin' like they tryna kill each other 'n' all I keep thinkin' is they gonna eff up my crib 'n' Pops is gonna flip.

“Yo, y'all chill. You can't be fightin' up in here. C'mon, Miesha, get off'a her.”

Quanda's screamin' now at the top'a her lungs, like she's bein' tortured. “Get off my hair, slut! Aaah! Get your crazy whore off'a me!”

I get in back of Miesha 'n' hook my arms up under her arms and yank her up, while tryna hold back Quanda. But Miesha still got Quanda's weave all wrapped up in her hand, while she's swingin' punches wit' her other. And now she socks me in the mouth. And now I gotta manhandle at least one'a them to get them calm down. I ain't into puttin' my hands on females, but I can't let them tear up my crib.

“C'mon, Miesha, let go of her hair, yo.” I pry her fingers loose. She punches me again. This time in the chest. I tell Quanda to bounce. “Get out, yo! Just get the eff outta here, yo!”

Quanda hits the door, fast.

Finally I let Miesha go 'n' she starts pacin' 'n' cursin', goin' off like a wild woman. “I knew I shoulda never effed wit' you! I knew you were an effen dog! That's why you sent me that text wanting to know where I was, so you could screw that rusty skank-trick-ho!”

“I swear—”

“Shut ya face!” she snaps, glarin' at me. The look on her face effs me up, yo.

“Please, yo. Let me explain. It's not what it looks like.” She's lookin' at me like I'm the no-good, cheatin' dude she thought I was from the rip. But I gotta let her know that I'm not that dude, that I'm all about her. But how am I gonna say anything that she's gonna believe when she walks in 'n' finds my ex on top of me, wit' her lips on me. And I'm standin' here in only my boxers?

I
t's been a whole week since that incident at his house. A whole, loooong, excruciating week since I've stopped taking his calls. Stopped responding to his texts. Stopped talking to him in the halls. Stopped looking at him. It's been a week since I've told him to leave me alone, told him that I wanted nothing to do with him. But it's killing me! I am
not
supposed to be thinking about
him
. But I am. Antonio Lopez. As bad as he hurt me, I can't stop thinking about him. His name scrawled across the top of my sketchbook. His lips, his hands, his body, all etched into my head.
This
is not supposed to be happening.
Me
feeling some kinda way about that boy. He's a player! A dirty, panty hound! This is not a part of the script—me thinking about
him
, me wanting
him
. But those kisses. Oh, and those lips. And his hands. The way they felt on my body.

They were soft.

Warm.

Oh so sweet.

I can't stop thinking about his kisses. The way his hands felt on my body.

I can't stop thinking about how he told me about his mother and cried in front of me.

The way we made love.

What the heck was I thinking? I shoulda never messed with that boy. I shoulda stayed away from him. Why didn't I just beat that crazy ho up and be done with it? I didn't have to walk up on that boy and kiss him like that. And I didn't have to ever go out with him, or let him into my house, or make out with him. And I didn't have to start spending so much time with him, either. And I didn't have to give myself to him. But I did. I wanted to. I wanted him. And now I can't stop thinking about him. Can't stop playing his kisses over and over in my head. Can't stop wondering if he's thinking about me, our kisses, our touching, too. Is he missing me, too? Is he hurting the way I am? Probably not. He's probably already laid up with some stank skeezer skank right now.

Okay, so maybe I was playing him. So what? He doesn't know that for sure. Okay, okay, he
does
know. But, that's not the point. The point is, Antonio Lopez is a capital D-O-G. Plain and simple. And, yeah, I kinda did like him. Okay, okay...I still do like him. Okay, I
really
do like him. But whatever! I don't like him enough to put up with all of the crazy drama he has going on. I'm not that kinda chick. And I'm not beat to have to keep going upside some chick's head because she can't get over him. That Quanda chick ain't tryna go down. And I'm sick of her. So, no. Let someone else have at it. I'm done.

I knew it was all too good to be true. Once a cheater, always a cheater, right? Cheaters don't change. They just stop what they do until they think you done forgot about it then go right back to doing the same mess. Just like Antonio. Just like my own dad! So why am I acting all surprised?

Why am I holed up in my room crying over him every day after school?

Why am I tripping?

This is horrible! Falling for him was
not
the plan. No, the plan was to teach that Quanda a lesson. To take her
man,
toy with him, then toss him back. Ha! The joke's on me. I'm the fool. And now I'm sure that ghetto hyena is laughing it up at my expense.

And yeah, I know what he
claims
happened. But I know what I
saw
. That slut on top of him with her lips on him. Okay, maybe he was tryna get her off of him. Maybe he did trip and she fell on top of him. But none of that woulda happened if he hadn't let her in the house in the first place. I'm so pissed at myself for liking that boy. I really wanted to be wrong about him. I mean, I wanted to be right that underneath all that playboy swag was a really nice, sweet guy who wanted to settle down with the right kinda girl. And I thought that girl was me. I felt it was. Even when I didn't tell him that. When I didn't admit it. I felt it. I felt what he felt. Heat. If I close my eyes and think hard enough, I can still feel it.

He's trouble. I know he is. Everything about that boy is wrong. But those kisses, the way his tongue touched mine, the way his arms wrapped around me, all felt . . . right. Like we're a perfect fit. Like two juicy strawberries dipped in sweet milk chocolate. That's what his kisses tasted like. That's what he felt like.

Girl, snap outta it. You're buggin' for real. Stick to the script
, I think.
You proved ya point. And now it backfired on you.

It's hard seeing him in the halls. It's hard sitting up in English class with him staring at me. I can't concentrate. I sigh, shutting my locker, relieved that he isn't here today. All seeing him does is remind me of him up in his house in his boxers with that skank. And all that does is make me wanna fight him. So, yes, I'm glad I don't have to look at him.

Girl, boom! You'll get over him. You only have two more months until you turn eighteen; then you'll be going to Brooklyn.
I've decided that I am not staying here. As soon as I turn eighteen, I'm signing myself out of this school and going back to Fashion High, and there's nothing my mom can do to stop me.
That's exactly what I'll do. Then I'll never have to see him again.
Yeah, that's it. Good-bye. Good riddance! I sigh, feeling all mixed up and confused. I rush into the girls' bathroom and try to pull myself together. I can't let these hatin' tricks see me all tore up. I'll never give any of them the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me.

I shut myself in one of the stalls and pull out my compact case, flipping it open then dabbing my eyes with this hard-azz toilet paper in here. I blow my nose, then toss the paper into the toilet and flush, walking out. I stop dead in my tracks when Quanda walks in. I drop my bag, close my fists, ready to bring it to her.

“I don't wanna fight you,” she says, putting her hand up. “I didn't even know you were in this bathroom.”

I narrow my eyes at her. I pick my bag up and head for the row of sinks to wash my hands. She goes into one of the stalls. I pull my brush outta my bag, then brush my wrap. Yeah, I know I should probably leave before she gets done, but I don't. A part of me wants to fight, but I know it's not worth it. I already beat her up twice. And getting suspended isn't an option. Not when I'm so close to getting accepted into Parsons or F.I.T.

I can't mess that up over no boy, or behind some ratch-etness. I pull out my lip gloss and slide it over my lips, waiting. For what, I don't know. Outta habit, I still check my phone, expecting to see a text message from Tone, or to see his picture pop up on the screen when he calls and Trey Songz's “Inside Interlude” plays as he rings through. But that was then. And this is now. And now, I have a new number. I had to change it. It was the only way I could keep myself from answering his calls, or responding to his texts. It's the only way I could get through the night. And keep myself from wanting to believe his lies.

I walk in the back to where the stalls are. She's on the toilet. The old me would kick in the door and drag her off the toilet, but... I bang on the door.

“I don't wanna fight you, Miesha. I'm done. You can have Tone.”

“I don't want him,” I say. But I'm not sure how true that is. I just know I can't mess with him. “I just need to know why'd you go over to his house that day? Were you tryna get him back?”

“No. I wanted to talk to him.”

I frown. “About what?”

“I went there to apologize to him.”

“Did he know you were going over there?”

She passes gas. And I curl my nose up.
Ugh, she stinks!
“Listen, can we talk about this when I'm done? I'm tryna use the bathroom.”

“Well, too bad. We're gonna get this out in the open right here and right now. So answer the question. Did he know you were going over there?”

She sighs. “As bad as I wanna lie to you and add some extra ish into the mix, I can't, because I know he doesn't want me. So no. He didn't know I was coming there. When he opened the door, I could tell he was expecting it to be you. He didn't even wanna let me in. But I begged him to give me a few minutes of his time. I love him. But I know he wants you. Not me. And I can't keep playing myself like this. Do you know how many girls I've fought over him in the last four months? At least ten.”

“And that just goes to show how stupid you are.”

“Don't you think I know that? And I still kept playing myself. I'm done. I apologized to him. And now I'ma apologize to you. I shoulda never started with you. All you were was the new girl at the school. The fly chick all the boys were talking about. And all I was worried about was Tone wanting you, even though he had already dumped me. I didn't wanna see him with anyone else. But I know that no matter how many girls I fight, he's not gonna come back to me.”

She flushes the toilet. I step back from the door just in case she comes out slinging a handful of her poop at me. She opens the door, looking at me. I take another two steps back. She goes over to the sinks and washes her hands. I watch her watching me through the mirrors.

“I'ma stay away from you, and you just stay away from me. Deal?” she says.

“
And
stay away from Antonio.”

“Deal.”

I walk outta the bathroom, letting out a sigh of relief. Okay, so he didn't know she was coming over there. But he still had no business letting her in, and definitely not while he was half-naked.

“Oops, hey, boo,” Fiona says, walking into me as I round the corner to get to the stairs. It's fourth-period lunch and I wanna go out to my car. “Where you on your way to?”

“My car.”

“Oh, good. I'll walk with you,” she says, her heels clicking alongside of me. “How you holding up?”

I blink. “I'm good,” I say with a buncha sass. Even if it's a lie, never let a ho see you down. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Girl, I just figured you'd still be goin' through it over Tone, that's all.” She shrugs. “Guess I was wrong.”

“Dead wrong. Girl, I'm onto the next.” I snap my fingers. “You miss a minute, you miss a lot, hun. Here today, gone tomorrow, that's my motto.”

“Ohhhhhkay,” she says, flipping her hand open. I slap her five. “Out with the old, in with new. Good for you, boo. Tone was up to no-good, anyway. Not that I'm tryna kick his back in.”

I frown. “Oh, really? Well, it's over between us, so I'm not pressed. I couldn't care less what kinda no-good mess he was into.”

“I knnnnnnow that's right. You didn't need the stress anyway, especially with him having a baby on the way.”

I blink, stopping in my tracks. “Say
whaaaat?
Baby?”

My heart drops! Everything stops! If I had any doubts before, I definitely don't now. Baby daddy and BM drama is a no-no for me. Antonio Lopez is dead to me!

“Girrrrl, you didn't hear this from me, 'cause you know I'm not one for a buncha gossip.” I roll my eyes up in my head. “But some chick from over on the West Side—” I give her a blank look. “Oh, that's right. You're not from here. It's another section of JC, boo. Annnnyway, Miss Chickie-Boo has it all up on her Facebook and Instagram page pics of her sonogram, saying it's Tone's.”

I swallow. “Well good for her, and congrats to him. I wish them both well.”

“Girrrrl, you good. 'Cause if it was me, I'd be ready to set it off. Tone is so dang messy. He didn't even tell you about this chick, did he? Mmmph. He knew this chick was with his child for at least two months.”

“Who is she?” I ask before I can stop the question from spilling outta my mouth.

“Some church skank who was doin' it to him down in the church basement or some nasty mess like that.”

What?! O-M-G! He is outta control! What and who
won't
that boy do?

“How long have
you
known about this?” I ask, eyeing her. The moment of truth has come.

“I found out about it a few weeks ago when I was across town at my cousin, TastyCakes'—one word—house.”
TastyCakes? What the hell?!
“She goes to Lincoln High with his BM. So when Tasty asked me if I knew Tone, you know I had to get the four-one-one, then do a lil more research before I said anything. One thing I don't like to do is spread gossip that ain't true.”

Ugh, this dumb trick is a mess!
But she's given me all I need to stay the hell away from the likes of Antonio Lopez. If I never see him again, it's fine by me!