The Girl of His Dreams
Page 30
“And extra funky,” Ameerah added, holding her nose.
“Like a real circus clown,” I stated, adding my two cents in.
We burst out laughing as Briana spun off to go to the bathroom.
Brittani huffed. “I swear I love my sister, but sometimes she acts like a real bird. And I bet she spent the whole dang night rolling around upstairs on some nasty sheets. Ugh! Let’s wait for her outside.”
And just as we were walking toward the door, out of nowhere Milk Chocolate appeared, stepping in front of me. “Yo, where you going, beautiful? You still owe me another dance.”
I playfully rolled my eyes. “Mmmph. Oh, really? Now you want another dance after you dissed me for some other chick. No, thank you. I don’t do sloppy seconds.”
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.”
DAFINA KTEEN BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2013 by Amir Abrams
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
KTeen Reg. US Pat. & TM Off.
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ISBN: 978-0-7582-7357-4
eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-7529-5
eISBN-10: 0-7582-7529-3
First Electronic Edition: July 2013