TRUE COLORS || MR. DALVIN.

[ Chapter 8 ]

"Yeah, you look good, but can you cook good? Can you read or is your brain like wood?" Dalvin started rapping, and I bobbed my head along to the beat.

"Do you have sex? Or do you make love? How do you live? Do you give or do you take love? Girl, you so fine, could you be mine? Or do I slack in the back of a - W-wic-wic-wack line! Yeah, the fruit looks right but that - "

"Ain't my type of hype!" We shouted in unison.

"Act your age, not the size of those pants your wear, so tight," I sang along.

"You look ripe," he whispered harshly, just like on the song.

"But getting everywhere you walk around, with your head on up in the sky. Oh, why you wanna mess around with so many guys," I sang dramatically, and I saw him start laughing as he brought his eyes back to the road ahead of us.

"I can't believe Puffy has the soundtrack in his car!" I shouted over the music, and Dalvin turned down the volume.

"Puffy has everything in his car, trust me," he said, and I started grooving again as the song went to the chorus.

It was so stupid and weird, us two 18 year olds sitting in this car, belting out Full Force lyrics for no reason other than the fact that we had just spent an hour and a half in the back of a movie theatre, the both of us whispering the lines to a film we had now seen 4 times.

Like I said, weird - but it was fun. I didn't mind sitting in the back, away from the rest of the audience. At first I was a little weary, but about ten minutes into the movie I relaxed, reaching into the popcorn bowl that sat on Dalvin's lap. I didn't even mind it when he put his arm around my shoulders, as a matter of fact - I hardly even noticed.

Now we were on the way to go get milkshakes, and apparently Dalvin knew just the place to get them. He wasn't lying when he said he could show me all the good spots in town.

When we pulled up, not many people were there and it was obvious that it was one of those hole-in-the-wall kinda spots. I stepped out of the car into the chilly night and immediately started to shiver, regretting not bringing a jacket along.

After ordering one chocolate and one vanilla shake, we sat down at a booth and waited patiently, the both of us quiet up until the point where he noticed that I was still shivering a bit.

"Oh, it can't be that bad. Why ain't you bring a jacket?"

"I didn't think I'd need one," I replied, and I watched as he suddenly took off his windbreaker and reached across the table with it. I stared for a moment before taking it in my hands and putting it on, letting it drape over my shoulders.

The scent of his cologne filled my nostrils as I inhaled, and I was glad it was nothing too overpowering.

"Aren't you gonna get cold, though?" I asked, frowning.

He shook his head, "Nah, I'm used to it."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to this, summer nights in Houston are always warm as fuck," I said, "And y'all actually get snow in the winter time? I'ma have to pass on all of that."

"You'll be fine," he waved me off, "We came up here from North Carolina, if we can survive, you can survive."

"See, I knew y'all were country boys," I said, and he raised his eyebrows.

"You did?"

"Yeah! I mean, it's obvious with the way y'all talk. Just a little too much twang to overlook," I said, chuckling.

"Aw, damn. The label told us that we gonna have to fix that, said we couldn't be on television soundin' all country and shit. They said it wasn't attractive, whatever that's supposed to mean."