Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Fuck you.” Not my most creative of comebacks, but it seemed to be all I had at the moment. Whitt screwed with my brain.
“You know what? I’m over this.” Leigh walked away. My attention was pulled to her for a moment before Whitt spoke again.
“I don’t swing that way. It doesn’t look like you’ll be fucking her either.” Whitt laughed, all his friends doing the same.
The back of my neck prickled with annoyance. Why was he able to get under my skin so easily? “You sure seem really interested in me for someone who doesn’t swing that way. Even had to chase my girl away.” Not that she was mine…or like I was into dudes. “What? If you can’t have me, no one can?”
“Ooooh!” a bunch of the surrounding people taunted.
“You wish, Tucker,” Whitt replied.
“Seems like you’re the one who wishes,” I countered.
“Is that why you were staring at me while I was dancing with those girls?”
I rolled my eyes, even though I had, in fact, been staring. “You’re trippin’.”
“I know I’m better than you on the football field, but you don’t have to pretend you hate me.”
He winked, and again, why couldn’t I punch him? Why wasn’t that a thing I could do? Besides the fact that, really, I was a lover and not a fighter…and his rich daddy would likely sue me or get me thrown in jail. At the very least, I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to go to Football Plus Camp anymore, and as much as I hated being there with him, it was the best chance I had of improving my skill even more so I could play college football and ultimately go into the NFL. “Fuck you,” I replied again, because what else could I say to him? Even if I won this round, people like Whitt always won in the long run.
I walked away.
It wasn’t the last time I ran into him that night. Later, he was sitting at the table, talking about his dad and how much he wanted to nurture Whitt’s career and how proud his family was of the fact that they just knew he would make it to the NFL one day. They must have been really close because Whitt was always talking him up, bragging about how much his dad supported him and how there was nothing he wouldn’t do for Whitt when it came to football.
It must be nice to have the perfect fucking life.
I left the party after that, walking two miles to the nearest bus station and then taking the bus back to my neighborhood. D hadn’t fucked up with Shondra, so he was staying there.
Even though it was after midnight, my mom was sitting in the kitchen, wearing her uniform from the restaurant. She worked Monday through Friday in an office and then evenings and weekends waitressing, just to make ends meet. It’s what she’d done when my real dad bailed. Then she’d met Steven. He’d been great—treating me and Kayla as if we were his own, even after they had Zuri and Savanna. She’d been able to quit the restaurant, too, but then a heart attack had taken him away from us.
“I thought you were staying at Dimitri’s?” Mama asked before giving me a kiss.
“It didn’t work out.”
“You smell like beer. Boy, you know how I feel about drinking!” Mom gave me that look that said I was fucked.
“I only had one. The other someone spilled on me.”
“You’re sixteen. You don’t need to be drinking at all…or at a party where there’s drinking. You’re gonna get yourself into trouble.”
“I’ll be careful,” I told her, but we both knew it didn’t always matter how careful we were. Trouble could still find people like us.
“I just love you so much…and I want what’s best for you. You got a bright future ahead of you, Malik, and I don’t want to see you mess it up.”
“I know, Mama,” I replied before sitting at the small table across from her.
“I’m sorry. I just want you to have it easier. You’re so damn talented, and I’m so proud of you…Steven was, too. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for you.”
All she wanted was for her kids to be happy. I was second out of four, Kayla being the oldest. She would graduate high school this year and would be going to community college and staying home. I wanted a better life for them, wanted to play the sport I loved and to support my mom so she didn’t ever have to work again.
“The NFL, baby,” I said, making her laugh. “You hungry? I’ll make something for you to eat, and then you should get to bed.”
Mom grabbed my hand and squeezed, her brown skin darker than mine since Kayla’s and my biological dad had been white. “How about we make it together?”