Crazy Love

by Amir Abrams

  Also by Amir Abrams

  Hollywood High (with Ni-Ni Simone)

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  CRAZY LOVE

  AMIR ABRAMS

  Dafina KTeen Books

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Also by Amir Abrams

  Title Page

  Dedication

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  PROLOGUE

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  A READING GROUP GUIDE

  Discussion Questions

  Hollywood High

  Copyright Page

  This book is dedicated to my peeps,

  Ni-Ni Simone,

  for being one of the hottest & flyest YA authors

  on the lit scene.

  You’re killin’ ’em,

  Ni-Ni boo!

  Mad love,

  much respect to you.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First and foremost, I give thanks to the One above for being the force that guides me, and continues to bless me!

  To my fam & friends, thanks for always loving me, unconditionally, no matter what!

  To Sara Camilli, my agent: thank you for having faith in my ability to soar to greatness! I really appreciate you.

  To Selena James and the rest of the Dafina/Kensington fam: thanks for being as excited as I am about being a part of the Kensington family. I truly appreciate the warm welcome, kind words, and mad love!

  To my peeps, Ni-Ni Simone: Yo, one hot day in Harlem and a train ride home, followed by twelve pages of hotness on Ni-Ni Girlz and look at us now. Hollywood High is about to be a real problem, for real for real. Peeps better strap up and get ready for the ride ’cause we about to rip the lit scene to shreds!

  And, last, but never least, to everyone who has picked up a copy of Crazy Love: thanks for taking a chance on me. I appreciate the support and for showing me love!

  Peace out!

  Ya boy,

  Amir

  PROLOGUE

  “Giiiiiiiiirrrrrrl, this party is fiiiiyah,” Zahara shouted over the beats of a Rick Ross joint.

  “I told y’all it would be,” Brittani said, swaying her hips and popping her fingers. Brittani’s sister, Briana, had the hookup for us because her boo-of-the-month was one of the frat boys whose fraternity was hosting the party. So she invited us to get our party on. Brittani’s sister is mad cool like that. She’s always getting us into all the hot spots.

  “I’ma get my queen-diva on tonight!” Ameerah exclaimed excitedly as she popped her hips. We laughed at her as she flicked her tongue at this cutie who eased by eyeing her.

  Anywaaayz, it was the weekend after Fourth of July and we were at an off-campus house party packed with mostly college heads. Mad cuties and thirsty chicks were everywhere, sweating it out on the dance floor. Fraternities and sororities represented, hard-rocking their colors and emblems. Hot beats were blaring through the speakers as dudes danced and grinded up on chicks who were booty-popping it all up on them.

  “Ooooh, I wanna dance,” Zahara said, snapping her fingers and bopping her head. She did a two-step, dropped down low, then popped it back up. She danced and twirled until she got the attention she wanted. Zahara loves attention!

  Anywaaayz, Zahara, Brittani, Ameerah, and I had just finished our dance-through, where we dance in a line through a party, all sexy-like, to peep what’s what and who’s who before we find a spot to post up—and be cute!—when I spotted him. He was standing over in a corner with three other guys. And they were all fine, but . . . not as fine as him. I acted like I didn’t see him. But the truth is, how could you not see him? All eyes were already on him. He was rocking a red and white Polo button-up with a pair of designer jeans and a pair of white, crispy Jordans and a red and white Yankees fitted. Tall and built, with skin the color of milk chocolate. Whew . . . he looked . . . delicious! Even in the dimly lit room, I knew he was fine.

  And the minute I was certain he’d seen me, I stepped, making sure to throw an extra shake in my hips as we strutted off. As soon as we made it to the other side of the room, these dudes came over to where we were standing and asked each of us to dance. Zahara, Brittani, and Ameerah said yes to the dudes who asked them, and bounced their booties toward the dance floor, leaving me standing there with this tall, light-skinned guy with really big teeth and gums, grinning at me and licking his lips. He reminded me of a big yellow crayon.

  “You sure you don’t wanna dance?” he asked again, slowly looking me up and down, dragging his tongue across his lips. I blinked, blinked again, hoping I could erase him from my view. No luck. He was still there, staring down at me, looking like a glow-in-the-dark wand as he bobbed his head to the beats. Truth is, I did want to dance. Just not with him. Not that he was busted or anything. He was just too bright and his teeth were too big for me to have to look in his face. I would either have to keep my eyes shut and zone out on the music, or keep my back to him. Lucky for me, I didn’t have to do either.

  This brown-skinned chick with a long black weave, wearing a skintight pair of jeans and a teeny-weeny shirt, was on the dance floor near us, dancing all fast and nasty by herself. That caught his attention and he bounced on over to her. Yuck, I thought, shifting my eyes around the room to see where my girls were.

  I glanced around the party and peeped Briana walking toward the stairs with her boo in tow. Mmmph, I thought, curling my lips up as she climbed the stairs. Miss Hot-Box probably going upstairs to get her back blown out.

  I shook the thought from my head and shifted my attention toward the dance floor, watching my girls act a fool. Every so often, I glanced over in his direction and would see a buncha birds flocked around him, and he’d lean into their ears and say something to them, then they’d start smiling or giggling like real dizzy chicks before walking off. I caught him staring over in my direction a few times, trying to make eye contact with me. But I kept it fly. And, when I finally let him catch my eye, he grinned. I wanted him. Knew I had to have him. And I was going to make it my business to bag him quick, fast, and in a hurry without making myself look like a straight-up bird. Fly girls never look thirsty. They keep it cute, okay! Well, um, that’s until they reel their catch-of-the-moment in. Then you can’t be too proud to beg, or too scared to beat a trick down, to keep him.

  As soon as Young Jeezy’s “I Do” started playing, I started swaying to the beats, popping my hips just enough to prove a point. That I was the hottest chick in the room; that I could bag any of these boys up in there if I really wanted. A few seconds later, I heard him. And right then I knew my point was made.

  “Wassup,” I heard someone behind me say in my ear. Even over the music, the voice was mad sexy. And I knew who it was without even looking over my shoulder.

  “Wassup,” I coolly said back, eyeing him real slow and sexy.

  “Looks like ya boy did me a favor,” he said, grinning at me.

  I raised my brow. “Excuse you. He did you a favor how?”

  “Ole boy made it easy for me
not to have to tell him to step off.”

  “Oh, really?”

  He smirked. “Yeah, really. You know you wanna be mine.”

  “How you know that?”

  “You been wanting me to notice you from the moment you stepped through the door with your girls.”

  I smiled, twirling the ends of my hair. “Obviously it worked. So you wanna dance or what?”

  “No doubt.”

  “Then follow me and take notes,” I said, taking him by the hand and leading him onto the dance floor. He laughed, letting me lead the way. We started moving to Drake’s “Miss Me.” He stepped in closer to me, staring at me as he moved. I stared back, lifting my arms up over my head and matching his rhythm. Each time he stepped in closer, I stepped back. When he stepped back, I stepped in. I twirled my hips a taste. Let him see what I was working with, but didn’t let him grind up on me.

  I spotted Ameerah, Zahara, and Brittani dancing with the same guys, laughing and switching partners every so often. I smiled, then returned my attention back to the fine catch in front of me. We danced for three songs until some whack song came on. I grabbed his hand and led him off the floor, like he was already my man.

  “Yo, so what’s your name?” he yelled over the music.

  “What?” I yelled back.

  “What’s your name?”

  Just as I was about to open my mouth to tell him, this Spanish-looking chick with wavy black hair walked over to us and rudely pulled him away by the arm.

  “Yo, I’ll be right back,” he said to me in my ear over the music. “Don’t go no where. Let me get this one dance in with my homegirl real quick. I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t keep me waiting too long,” I said all sweet and sexy, eyeing him and licking my lips. But inside I was screaming, “Oh no the hell she didn’t just step up and disrupt my groove!” But I kept it real cute as they walked off toward the dance floor ’cause that’s how I do it. Still, every so often I shot her daggers on the low as she popped her booty up and down on the front of my future man’s crotch. That ho musta got the news feeds mixed up. I’m the wrong chick. I will spin her clock back. I stared her down for a quick moment, then caught myself before I turned the party out. I wasn’t about to let Mr. Fine and Sexy see the other side of me, so I popped my hips over to where my girls were, keeping an eye on the object of my desires from afar. Oooh, he was so sexy. And I wanted him.

  Zahara walked up on me, looping her arm through mine, pulling me toward the door. “Girl,” she screamed over the music, “it’s hot and loud in here. I need some fresh air. Let’s go outside for a minute.”

  “Yeah, let’s,” I said. Brittani and Ameerah were behind her.

  “Whew, I need me a cigarette,” Zahara stated the minute we got out into the night air. “Did y’all see how fine my future baby fahver was? And he could dance, too!”

  I laughed at her silly butt. “Girl, you don’t even smoke.”

  “Well, not yet, I don’t. But let me get a few rounds in with him and I will be.”

  “Mmmph. . .these college boys are too fine for their own good,” Brittani agreed. She wiped sweat from her face with a napkin. “But what was up with that broad with the big pumpkin head on the dance floor?”

  “Oh, that ho tried to play me, but I had to show her what’s what.”

  “I know that’s right,” Brittani said. “I thought we were gonna hafta bring it to her face real quick.”

  I laughed. “Oh, trust. She didn’t want it. You see she stepped.”

  “She better had,” Ameerah stated, pulling her braids up and wiping sweat from around the back of her neck.

  “Wait, what happened?” Zahara asked. “Who was tryna set it off up in there?”

  “This nobody,” I said. “Don’t even sweat it.”

  “Have any of you seen my sister?” Brittani asked, pulling her hair back from her face. We all told her no. Shoot, it wasn’t my place to tell her I saw her sister sneak off up the stairs with her man. Brittani rolled her eyes knowingly. “She’s probably somewhere pinned up against a wall with her boo.”

  “Hold up, let’s rewind,” Ameerah said, planting a hand up on her hip. “Speaking of boos, who was the tall glass of dreamy, sweet chocolate you were dancing with? Don’t think we didn’t see you serving it up.”

  I shrugged. “Some guy who asked me to dance; that’s all.”

  “That’s all?!” Zahara screeched. “Girl, that chocolate-drop cutie was all that and a bag of M&M’S, okay? Melt all up in ya mouth; not in ya hands.”

  Ameerah and Brittani laughed. I rolled my eyes, trying to keep from laughing with them. I played it off instead. “He was all right, I guess.”

  “Well, you guessed wrong,” Brittani said, placing a hand up on her hip. “So run along. Girl, do you need ya eyes checked? That boy is more than all right. Hon, he’s super-duper, capital F-I-N-E. Did you at least get his name?”

  I shook my head.

  “Whaaat?” they snapped in unison, not believing me.

  I shrugged. “It wasn’t that serious,” I stated, shifting my eyes from their stares. Truth is, it was! I needed to reel him in, and quick. “C’mon, let’s go back in.”

  “Yeah, let’s,” Zahara agreed, pulling me by the arm. “If I’m lucky, I might be able to get me another dance in with that cutie, and bounce all this booty up on him again.”

  I laughed, shaking my head.

  Once we got back inside, I glanced around the dimly lit party to see if I could spot him and that Latina hooker dancing again. But neither were anywhere in sight. I watched my girls on the dance floor, getting it in with the guys they had danced with earlier. Glow Worm found his way back over to me, grinning. “You ready to dance?”

  I stared at him for a long minute, then decided he wasn’t that bad to look at. Besides, I had finally spotted my future boo, dancing it up with some other chick. So I told Glow Worm yes, and dragged him over to where Mr. Milk Chocolate was and started dancing with him. My boo eyed me. And I eyed him back. I dropped it, popped it, locked it, then spun it around. Shaking everything my momma gave me: hair, hips, and booty. And Glow Worm had the nerve to be able to groove and keep up.

  Three hours later, it was already time to go because Ameerah and I had two o’clock curfews—well, mine was really one, but I begged my dad to let me stay out an hour later. Anywaaayz, we all wanted to hit up the twenty-four-hour IHOP over in Irvington before we had to be in. I caught Briana’s boo coming down the stairs, then a few minutes afterward she did, too.

  We all stared at her. Her hair was all over her head and her lipstick was smeared all around her lips. She looked a hot, greasy mess!

  She blinked. “What?”

  “Uh, hellooo,” Brittani said, rolling her eyes. “You might wanna go fix your situation ’cause you are looking real tore up right now.”

  “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.