BRITISH MAHOGANY RACER. CHICAGO, IL NOVEMBER 2019.
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"MURDER?" Celeste paused scrunching her nose as she watched Drew, Harlem and Cali run around British's spacious apartment later that night. "That's so tacky, like how you catch a body and get caught?" Celeste frowned shaking her head. "Well, unless you got Dayvon and he ain't goin' nowhere no time soon—I hope,"
"Whatchu' mean I got him?" British side eyed Celeste folding Harlem's freshly washed clothes. "Dayvon is just my friend, we ain't like that."
"Y'all ain't like that but you freaked him in India bathroom?"' Celeste spoke in a quieter time taking in account for the three children running around.
British smiled against her own self before sucking her teeth, "so? You can't freak people and still be friends?"
"Not y'all two," Celeste commented, "y'all always flirting and he always here and shit. At this point, y'all might as well make it official."
"Girl, bye," British sighed, "change the subject cause I don't even wanna think about another relationship, for real." British shook her head, ever since Kyrin any mentions of a relationship shook her up. She was starting to slowly drift away from the idea of ever having one again.
"You heard about what happened to Rooga?" Celeste shifted the focus of the discussion, catching the confusion in British's expression, she hurried to Facebook to find the Legal Help Firm post. The familiarity of his face made British's mouth gape open at the post. "They said he got his ass ran over, full fucking speed by a hellcat, girl! I heard his ass was flat, like panini pressed!"
British squirmed at the gritty details of the crime, "that's disgusting," she simply responded not wanting to get deeper in any more gruesome details. British didn't quite know him but knew he lived on 63rd not far from her mothers apartment on Vernon, but she didn't know him all that well.
The knock on her front door made her sigh looking at all the clothes in her lap she had not folded and the double she pulled at the tattoo shop had taken a toll on her feet, Celeste instead stood up heading for the door. Standing on the tips of her toes she lowered herself onto the pads of her feet pulling the front door open to reveal Dayvon. Carrying bags of food. "Wassup, Cel." He mumbled waking in the door setting the food on the coffee table.
"Awww!" British smiled sitting the pile of clothes aside as Celeste closed the front door. "You brought everybody food?"
"Yea," Dayvon smiled, "I'm the baby daddy who bring all the kids happy meals, on gang. Mickey D's fa everybody!"
"Boy—Harlem, Cali and Drew!" British called all at once. All the kids rushing to the living area at once.
"I'm starving!" Celeste grunted.
_________
"WHEN you gon' stop playin' and actually fuck wit me?" Dayvon raspily spoke up. British's eyes darting to the time on the tv a few feet away as they sat in her living area. After hours. Two in the morning. It was obvious that Dayvon was tired, sleepy and some more shit, but it didn't take away from the firmness in the question.
"Hm?" British looked over at him, as he laid sprawled out over most of her sectional. "Why you bringin' this up all of a sudden?" They'd never talked about being together in a romantic setting, it wasn't weird but just odd that all of a sudden this was a topic.
"Why not?" He countered back. "We fuckin' and shit, done had yo whole body in my mouth. What's the point of us sneakin' around and doin' it, errbody know. I'm ova' hea' damn nea' errday," he pointed out, "and I luh' Harlem but I jus ain ova' hea' fa lil folks."
"I mean Ian gon' sit hea' and put up like ion' like you gang—I feel like you'ca see dat, like it ain' even no secret fa' real. But Ian' finna sit up hea' talkin' like no hoe ass nigga eitha', so it's like whateva' you wanna do fa real." He shrugged. "You'ca say no and i'a be off yo body, on gang."
British pursed her lips, biting the inside of her jaw as her mind raced. Did she really wanna go back into a relationship? The toxic aspect of it? Arguing? Fighting? Having to worry about if he's alive or dead in the streets? Having to worry about...cheating? Basically, everything she dealt with when she was with Kyrin. It was too much, but she also didn't wanna push Dayvon away. He'd done a lot for not only Harlem but her since she'd met him, and she was extremely grateful for him, he was heaven sent, for sure.
"I don't wanna say no," she firmly responded, "I want you." Dayvon's eyes flickered to her after the revelation, the both of then holding eye contact for a minute. "But I don't wanna just jump into shit and it's awkward, I wanna be able to be like how we are now, cool—but with the romantic aspect. I don't know how we go about that."
"You jus' gotta get used ta' me," he sat up with a tired grunt, "and I gotta get used ta' you. Awkward shit don't last fa' long, if you like me like I like you, allat shit won't happen. If we good, then we good."
"I feel like I'm already used to you," British spoke small, "you used to me?"
"I been used ta' you," he admitted, "hold on ta' me and we good, you ain't gotta second guess shit and worry. I gotchu. You know dat."
It wasn't much to be said after that. The duo just ultimately falling asleep. British's head on Dayvon's shoulder and his head on top of hers. The whole interaction was probably the sweetest thing she'd ever heard.
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short but sweet. i really love this book. i swear it. so nontoxic and just refreshing. omg.
