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“All that you saying”—Zaire leaned against his car as the rain washed over his body—“you don’t even believe.”

“Whatever.” I looked at my girls and said, “Let’s go!” That’s when I realized that Courtney was still stretched on the ground. I turned around while standing in the trolley’s aisle and yelled out the window, “MC Rainbow, get yo behind up and come on!”

A few minutes later Courtney stumbled on board.

Once we took our seats, I looked out the window and Zaire hit me with a soft wink. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and did all I could to erase his face from my thoughts.

Picture us married …

—N
AS
, “K-I-S-S-I-N-G”

T
rue story, this is how I was supposed to be: teenage
Sex and the City.
Super-duper fly, in my black and fitted Bebe mini dress, equipped with all the right trimmings: four-inch pencil heels and sexy curls. Deliciously sick. But I wasn’t.

The reflection that stared back at me from the bathroom’s full-length mirror was ummm … ummm … yeah, you got it—one hot … mess! Let me say that again: hot … mess.

To say I was pissed would be an understatement.

I’d been standing here for the last hour trying to fix my hair and style it in every way imaginable. One side was braided because I thought a Mohawk, with natural curls flowing down the center, would’ve been hot. Not. It looked stoop’pid. The other side was gelled down—and quickly faded to a flaky wreck a few seconds after I slapped a handful of Ampro on it.

I couldn’t wash my hair because I had no shampoo and the dryer that I had, had been had, and no longer worked.

Honey, let me put it to you like this, I was a wretched mess and the only thing that worked for me was this sexy black dress that I’d slipped into. That’s when it clicked. I wasn’t going … period. There was no way I could let Josiah see me looking busted. And yeah, I know he was supposed to love me flaws and all … yada-yada-yada. Whatever. There was no way I was about to step in Josiah’s crib looking like queen of the misfits.

I took my cell phone and dialed Josiah’s number. “Yeah,” he said sarcastically while answering the phone, “you’re only an hour late.”

“I’m not coming,” I said, getting directly to the point. There was no way I could sugarcoat it.

“What?” he said, shocked. “What do you mean you’re not coming?”

“My hair is a mess.” I recounted for him the story of how my curls went from sugar to well, you know…. The only thing I left out was how the perpetrator made my heart beat a little too fast.

“Seven, we’ve been together for how long?” he said in disbelief.

“And you’ve never seen me like this.”

“Remember that time you broke up with me and I came to see you—and your brother said you’d been lying in the bed crying for six months—”

“What about it? And it wasn’t six months—it had only been two days.”

“It was a week, but still—you were hit. Hair a mess, cold in your eyes.”

"Whatever.” I laughed. “And you didn’t look too hot yourself, but anywho, I still didn’t look as bad as I do now.”

Josiah continued, “Remember last summer you were sick for a week and I came over to take care of you?”

“Yeah,” I whined, remembering how sweet that was.

“Well, I hate to break this to you, but you looked so bad that a few times I had to remember how much I loved you.”

Why was I smiling? This was not supposed to be a funny moment.
“Whatever, let’s not forget how I was practically your servant when you hurt your foot playing ball, and when you had the flu I made chicken noodle soup for you. Oh, what about when you had a stomach virus—? Should I go on.”

My baby laughed. “So then you get my point,” he said.

“I guess … but …”

“But what? You think your hair being messed up is going to turn me off or something?”

“It might.” I looked in the mirror at my callaloo of hairdos.

“Seven, don’t you get it by now? I’m seriously crushing on you. I don’t care about your hair. I just want you over here. I have something special planned; Devin’s gone out for the night—”

“Speaking of Devin, since when did he start liking Khya? He better treat her right.”

“Time out. You know I don’t believe in being in any of my boys’ business. If Devin’s kicking it to your girl, that’s between them, and dinner over here is between us. Now come on.”

"All right.” I paused, looked myself over in the mirror once more, and said, “And you better not …”

"You told me you weren’t going to laugh.” I pouted as I stood at Josiah’s apartment door, dressed in my sexy black number with my hair a complete mishmash. I was seconds away from going home. “I’m leaving.” I placed the baseball cap I’d walked over here wearing back on my head and turned toward the hallway.

“No,” he said as he tried to calm his snickering down. He turned me back toward him, removed my cap, and said, “Nah, chill.” He kissed me on my forehead. “It’s cool, you look kind of … ummm … kind of cute.” He played in my hair a little and shot me a half grin. “Yeah, I almost see the vision. Almost and it’s kinda hot.”

I tooted my lips, yet a few seconds later they pushed into a smile. Which I hated. Because I wanted to be mad … but being here with Josiah I couldn’t. He always had a way of seducing me into happiness. “Whatever,” I said, clearly not knowing what else to say.

“Now, can we bring the party inside?” He grabbed my hand and led me into his apartment.

Immediately the butterflies in my stomach woke up. And not the ones that came alive every day when I saw my baby. The special ones that only fluttered when I stumbled upon an extra special memory, I was reminded of how much I loved him when he did something special like this.

Soft jazz played and there was a trail of rose petals from the front door to the dining-room table. Candles were everywhere, and they created a seductive hue that made me feel like everything I’d been through today was all worth it.

"Oh, Josiah.” I held back tears of joy, as he stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “This is sooo beautiful. I can’t believe you did all of this for me.”

“Believe it.” He smiled and kissed me behind my ear. “And when I get signed, I’ma fulfill your wildest dreams. I’ma buy you everything you’ve ever wanted. We are going to get married.”

“Picture us married.” I laid my head back against his chest. “Mr. and Mrs. Whitaker.”

“Nah, Josiah ‘The Dream’ Whitaker and his wife. Now that’s wassup. They gone span to you at the games, and the commentators are going to say, ‘Is that … is that Mrs. Josiah?’ ”

“Feeling yourself, anyone?” I chuckled. “I have a name and it’s not Mrs. Josiah.”

“Oh really?” he said, sliding something unexpected around my neck. “So I may as well return this.”

I looked down and Josiah had slid a white-gold necklace with a miniature diamond engagement ring hanging from it. I was in awe. This necklace was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

“I figured it was a way,” Josiah said, “to say that I want you forever. And one day I’ma get you a ring just like this one”—he lifted the necklace—“and place it on your finger.”

Never in a million years did I expect this. This was … beyond a dream—because it was reality, but it didn’t feel real. Does that make sense? Like, I was on a natural high and everything that I’d ever felt bad about—everytime I’d questioned if my relationship was meant to last forever, every speech my mother had ever given me about living my life, and all of her warnings about settling down too
soon—had suddenly disintegrated and no longer meant anything.

“I’ma love you forever.”

“I know you are.” He kissed me. “Now, let’s eat, ‘cause I’m starving.”

I looked at the dining-room table, which was dressed with a white linen tablecloth, silver cutlery, a gleaming silver dinner dome, and a bouquet of red roses laid in the center. Josiah held my chair out. “For the lady,” he said.

“Thank you.” I playfully curtsied and then took my seat.

Josiah sat directly across the table from me, and I blushed while asking him, “What’s for dinner?”

“Filet fish, with a special sauce, lettuce, cheese, a side of fried potatoes, and for dessert apple pie.”

“You cooked all of that? Wow. I’m scared of you.”

Josiah lifted the dome and I almost fell out of my chair. “Burger King?” I couldn’t believe this. “All this beautiful hype for Burger King?” I did my best not to laugh, but I couldn’t help it. “You told me you cooked. And it’s Burger King with the special sauce, lettuce, and cheese. Oh my …” I laughed. “All this for a number six?”

“Since when you become so funny?”

If I didn’t know any better I’d think I hurt his feelings. I rose from my chair, walked over to him, and sat on his lap. “Don’t be mad.”

“I tried to cook,” he said.

“What happened?”

“I burned it. Everything. The chicken, the vegetable, and the rice; I couldn’t get it to come out the pan so I just threw the whole thing away.”

“Awwl …”

"I started to get you a chicken tenders meal, but a few of my teammates were there and I couldn’t see myself, a grown man, ordering chicken tenders. That’s a little suspect.”

“Oh please, Courtney orders chicken tenders every day.”

“Exactly my point.”

“That’s ridiculous.” I laughed until I cried and a few moments later Josiah joined me. He laughed until tears filled his eyes. This was the perfect scene …perfect. This was what being young, fabulous, and in love was all about.

We ate dinner, laughed, told jokes, recounted memories, and dreamed. Dreamed about Josiah being all that he’d ever wanted to be, a star player in the NBA. “Promise me something, Josiah,” I said.

“What’s that?”

“That things will always be like this.”

“Always,” he said as we kissed passionately. He lifted me from the chair and carried me into the mystic darkness of his bedroom where we capped off this beautiful night with the sweetness of sinful memories….

I was on cloud nine and felt like I’d just eased down the yellow brick road by the time I arrived back at my dorm. I held my stilettos in my hand, and tipped into the room, doing my best not to make any noise as I unlocked the door and pushed it open. But of course the door creaked.

“No need to sneak round. Ya mama ain’t here,” Khya said as she sat up in bed and Shae flicked the light on.

“Where you been, yat?” Shae added. “And don’t say catching da wall, ‘cause we know that ain’t so.”

"I was with Josiah.” I lifted my necklace and showed it to them.

“That’s beautiful!” Shae and Khya said, excited.

“What does that ring hanging from it mean?” Shae asked. “It’s a promise ring, right? ‘Cause you know we have a lot of years left in school.”

“Shae, don’t dry up the dream.” I twisted my lips. “I’m not dropping out of school. I got this. And yes, it’s a promise ring.”

“Jamil gave me a promise ring once—” Khya said.

Before she could finish Courtney pounded on the wall. “Not tonight, Khya. Not tonight.”

“Shut up, Rainbow!” Khya yelled. “Anywho, Seven, somebody dropped you off a package this evening. It was sitting outside the door when me and Shae came back from the dinner at the caf.”

“A package?” I said, surprised, as I turned toward my desk and spotted a medium-sized cardboard box. I tried to shake it, but the box was heavy. “Who is this from?”

“I don’t know,” Khya said, “but I tell you what, they mixed some crazy glue in with that tape, ‘cause it wouldn’t pop open for nothing.”

“You tried to open my box?” I said, surprised.

“No, girl, you know I respect your privacy.”

I shook my head.
Leave it to Khya.
“Now open it,” Shae said. “ ‘Cause I wanna know too.”

I took a pair of scissors and popped open the top of the box. After sorting through mounds of white tissue paper, there were three textbooks. It took a moment before I realized that these were the very books that I needed. “What the hell?” I said in disbelief. The books were wrapped in red ribbon and topped off by a large bow and a note that
read:
Since you wouldn’t let me take you home I hope you’ll accept this as my apology. Zaire.

“What is it?” Khya pressed.

“Books,” I said, completely flabbergasted.

“Books?” Shae frowned. “From who?”

“Zaire.”

You changed the game
I like your thug style …

—C
IARA
, “T
HUG
S
TYLE”

Two weeks later …

I
sat in my creative writing class on pins and needles, as

Dr. Banks handed back the short stories we’d all written last week. I prayed that I had an A; otherwise my mother would flip her lid—wait a minute.
Screeeeeeech!

A smile loomed on my face.
How would my mother know if I don’t get an A? She’s not in my dorm room. Don’t ask me why, but I could feel the arch in back going from slump to straight. There aren’t any teacher–parent conferences here. Now my neck was cocked to the right a little more. My mother can’t raid my book bag or keep up with my assignments the way she used to when I was in high school. I twisted my lips. Hmph, I got this. I’m grown.

“Miss McKnight,” Dr. Banks said to me, as she handed another student the last paper she held in her hand. “I need to see you a few minutes after class.”

Excuse me?

I sat stunned. And don’t even ask me what happened to my newfound posture because I was now round-
shouldered and practically buried beneath my desk. Oh, and puhlease, don’t even think I knew what the heck went on for the remainder of class because I didn’t.

All I knew was that this lady was about to have my mother’s foot on my neck. I needed this chick to understand that not only did I need this paper, I needed a decent grade…. Otherwise it’s “bye-bye, Seven.” Because bad grades equaled scholarship being taken away. And the way my mother bragged to the church, the pastor said a prayer, and the church surprisingly gave me money, I knew that if I didn’t do well I was gon’ need Jesus on the main line.

And yeah, umm hmm, whatever, I know I just said I was grown, and I am grown. Well … like … a lil bit grown. Grown enough to be away at college.

Ugg! Who am I fooling? ‘Cause I know that Grier McKnight-Eley, b.k.a. my mother, doesn’t care. She will come down here and Louisiana will never be the same.

Why did I take this class? I looked at my cell phone for today’s date and wondered if I still had time to withdraw.

“Miss McKnight,” Dr. Banks called for my attention, “are you okay?”

I blinked. “Yes, ma’am, yes,” I stuttered. “Ummm, yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay, well class has been over for about a minute and I’ve been calling your name to get your attention, and you seemed as if you were somewhere else for a second there.”

I was. I was in hell.
“Oh no, m’am, I just didn’t hear you.” I forced myself to grin, and I’m sure it was the stupidest smile she’d ever seen. “You wanted to see me?”

"Yes.” She walked over and handed me my paper. I held my breath and thought to myself,
Hopefully a lot of people will come to my funeral.

I didn’t even look at the grade, I just started to explain. “Dr. Banks, I’m just so stressed out. I’m only a freshman, the economy is crazy—”

Dr. Banks looked perplexed. “What’s wrong, Seven? You earned an A.”

“What?” I looked down at my grade, and just like she said, it was an A and she had written
Excellent
by the grade.

WTF?

“I don’t understand,” I said. “Why did you hold my paper until the end?”

“Because I wanted to know if you realized you had a special gift. Your story is wonderful!” she said with excitement. “I could really see and feel your main character. Your character development was awesome.”

I’m sure, especially since the story really was about my grandmother when she started to date after my grandfather died and my uncle harassed her boyfriend everyday. I mean, I changed the names and added my own flavor, but still …
“Oh, thank you so much. I tried hard to make it feel real.”

“Well, you did a wonderful job and I could tell that a lot of time and effort went into it.”

Chile please, I waited until the day before it was due to start it.
“Thank you, I really tried.”

“So I hope that you’re an English major—”

Is she trippin'? Everybody knows that when you come to college you have to plan to earn a degree in making moola? And I don’t remember English being on the list of degrees to have. Just sayin'.

“I know, I know.” She smiled and said as if she could read my mind, “It may not seem as lucrative as some of the other disciplines, but it can be. You just have to work a little harder at it. But, I promise you it is as rewarding and with the talent that you have here, you could be an author, a professor, a journalist. The possibilities really are endless.”

Umm hmm, yeah, okay.
I did all I could not to raise my brow. “I’ll have to keep that in mind, Dr. Banks, but right now my major is occupational therapy.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “But don’t close the door on English too. You have a very special gift and I think you should share it.”

With who?

“I teach other classes on writing fiction specifically. I hope to see you take them over the course of your college career. But until then I wish you the best. And if you ever need any advice on writing, come see me. It would be my pleasure.”

“Thank you,” I said, not knowing if I should be ecstatic or feel weird.

"Two snaps up and a fruit loop!” Courtney said as he dragged onto the courtyard, where we sat among tons of students who chilled and did their own thing. Some of the Greeks stepped, a few of the band members played a routine, some amateur athletes shot hoops, and everybody else sat on the cement park benches or the grass and chilled with their cliques.

Courtney dropped his backpack on the ground next to the set of benches where we sat. “Anybody seen Jesus?” He held his hand over his eyes like a sun visor and looked around.

"You too, huh?” Shae said as she shook her head.

Courtney flopped down on the bench next to Shae and directly across from me and Khya. He flung the ends of his powder-blue boa to the back of his shoulders and smacked his lips. “This trig class is kicking my—” He stopped short. “You get the picture.”

“And my biology class.” Shae wiped invisible sweat from her brow. “A mess.”

“Hmph, well, rounds,” Khya said, shaking her head, “I think I got y’all beat, ‘cause my professor recommended that I drop his class.”

“Say word?” Shae’s eyes bugged.

“Word.” Khya tooted her lips for emphasis.

“So what happened?” I asked.

Khya smacked her lips. “Well, I took this Greek mythology class because I needed electives and the class started at noon on Mondays. Which meant I could party late on Sunday night and sleep late the next morning. But, hmph, I had no idea this class would be talking about different gods and carrying on.”

“You didn’t?” Shae said, perplexed.

“Heck nawl!” Khya ranted. “I’ma Christian, ya heardz me? And when they started talking about all these different gods, I was like oh hell to the no, the devil is a liar, only one God, bey-be! And I guess that pissed the professor off so he looked at me and said, ‘Do you have any idea who Alphadite is?’ ”

“And what did you say?” Courtney asked, clearly flabbergasted.

“I said ‘That’s Alphadite, short for Alphadite-Rakeesha Shanae Johnson-Smith. She was my friend Leroy’s lil cousin’s god-sistah’s brother’s second baby-mama. She
lives in the Third Ward, and will rob you blind.’ After that the professor pulled me to the side and said, ‘You need to get out while you’re ahead.’ Now ain’t that a mess?”

“A complete mess.” Shae shook her head. “Khya, Aphrodite is the Greek god of beauty.”

“Looka here, Shae, you got your downfalls,” Khya said, “and I got mine.”

“I know how you feel,” I said, “because my English class is—”

“English?” Khya cut me off and sucked her teeth. “Are you trying to be funny? Who fails English? You speak English. Did you go in there and start speaking Creole, Seven, trying to be fancy? You gon’ mess around and they gone put you in ESL.”

“First of all,” I said defensively, “I can’t speak Creole and I’m not failing. I’m just having a little trouble with—” “With what?” Shae spat. “English is super easy.” “Excuse you,” I said. “English is not always that easy, and don’t hate because the classes you all are complaining about I’m handling with ease. And anyway it’s my creative writing class—”

Courtney looked at me and smirked. “It gets worse?” He shook his head. “Now you’re having trouble with a class where you get to make things up? Somebody lied and told you you were smart, didn’t they? No wonder Zsa-Zsa never talked about you. But see, I was put in your life to get you to see the light and understand the truth of your slowdation.” He stood up, puffed out his chest, and started to sound like a Baptist preacher. “I come before ya today, chu’ch—”

“Well …” Khya and Shae said, sounding like church mothers.

"To help our dear sistah, Seven, out, now hmmmm …” He hummed and then continued his tirade. “She need to know, Lawd, that she slow, y’all, and she need our help—Jesus!” he screamed. “Please shine Your light!”

“Would you shut up?” I looked around at the few eyes that were staring our way.

He placed his hand on my forehead. “Help her, saints!”

Can you say embarrassed?

“Help her to know,” Courtney continued his sermon, “that if she doesn’t shut up complaining about English while we’re over here dying in the other classes, and poor Khya has even been asked to leave, then we gon’ have to come for her throat, Lawd! Hallelujah, Amen!”

“That was good, Courtney,” Khya said. “You should be like a, ummm … a preacher.”

I whipped my head around toward her. “Would you stop assigning MC Rainbow careers?”

“You think so, Khya?” Courtney said, ignoring me and popping his collar.

“Yeah,” she said, “but you know what you’ll be even flyer at?”

“What’s that?” Courtney said as if he was in awe and waiting for Khya to hire him.

“A choir director. Something about the boas you wear and those finger waves in your hair tells me you would put it to sleep, fa’sho'.”

“Yeah, and I can play a mean tambourine too,” Courtney bragged and started waving his arms in the air as if he were directing a symphony that only he could hear.

“I’m ‘bout to update my status”—Khya blew a pink bubble and popped it—“and tell er’body about you being a future choir director and see how many people click the like button for my comment.” Khya picked up her phone,
snapped a picture of Courtney, updated her status, and the next thing I knew she went from zero to sixty and started going off.

“That’s the heifer who keeps sending cyber martinis to Jamil!” Khya stood up on the bench and yelled over to a clique of girls. “Let me tell you something Nastyazzdotcom, I ain’t the one! Now send Jamil another drink, please do it and I’m bust yo—” Khya came to a complete halt, jumped off the bench, and said, “Stop the press.” She looked at me and pointed. “Seven is that—”

“Zaire,” I said, more to myself than I did to her. Don’t ask me why, but my heart thundered like crazy and instantly I wondered if every strand of my hair was in place, especially since I had styled it in natural waves that hung to my shoulders.

I quickly glanced down at my clothing:

Fitted jeans—check.

Pink fitted tee with AM I MAKING YOU SWEAT? written across it—check.

Okay, okay, I’m buggin'. I don’t even know this dude. Besides, I got a man. So, I’ma just walk over there and say thank you for the books. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do, say thank you and be out.
… I sucked my stomach in—and though I was pear shaped and most of my sexy weight went to my size-fourteen hips, at this moment I was so self-conscious that my belly felt like I had a nine-month-old fetus in it.

Be calm and play it cool, Seven. You got this.

I boldly walked away from my crew and over to Zaire, who exuded an aura of straight-up confidence. Like that Jay-Z, grown-man-type swagger. It was like he knew … that everybody knew … that he was dope.

He wore a black Yankees cap, a pair of black jeans, a black sweatshirt, an iced-out chain, and a pair of Marc Jacobs sneakers on his feet. His smile lit up the sky as he sat at one of the courtyard’s gaming tables, slammed dominos down, and laughed with another cat—who put me in the mind of Drake but with a fly buzz cut, three parts on the side, a goatee, and, from what I could see, a crazy nice body.

Never noticing me standing to the side of the table, Zaire raised up from his seat, slammed his hand down on the table, and hollered, “Dominos!” He grabbed a bundle of money that sat on the side of the table, smiled at his friend, and playfully said, “All I do is win-win-win …”

“So does that mean,” I interjected, “that you’re going to pay me the money you still owe me for my hair?”
Why did I say that? That is not what I was supposed to say. The hair thing is so played now. Dang. Should I leave now or wait for him to bust out laughing?

Zaire turned around and stared at me. His eyes clearly ran over my body and his gaze dropped compliments every step of the way.

“Nice view,” he said with all the cocky confidence in the world. “But you know what’s funny?” He stroked his goatee. “I distinctly remember trying to give you the money for your hair and my number for a date and you turned them both down. You remember that?” He sat back down in his seat, and somehow I eased up close enough to him that I was practically standing between his legs.

“I remember being pissed.” I batted my lashes and struggled to keep my lips from forming a smile.

“And now?” he asked.

“Now—” I paused. I couldn’t fight it anymore and my
lips were full-fledged cheesing. “I’m not mad anymore. Especially since you were nice enough to buy me those books I needed. Thanks. I appreciated that.”

“It was the least I could do. I owed you that.”

He stared at me intensely, locking eyes with me for a moment too long and causing me to feel frozen in my spot. An awkward silence lingered between us, and then I said, “So … ummm … I didn’t know you went to school here.”

“I’ma sophomore, bey-be.” He gave me a half grin and looked me over again.

“What’s your major?” I asked.