Brooklyn
After getting in so late the night before, I had practically slept through my psychology class. The slight breeze I felt as I glided across campus caused my straight Malaysian hair to blow in the wind. Anika had two more classes on her schedule, so on days like this, I would just kick it in our dorm and hit the books until she got out of class. Walking adjacent from the parking lot, I realized that ever since Anika had gotten her car that I didn't drive mine at all.
I couldn't remember the last time that I had started it. I opened the door only for the creaking noise to annoy the shit out of me. After four failed attempts at getting it started, I banged on the steering wheel in frustration. We make it all the way to North Carolina for you to cop out on me now. I got out of my car and slammed the door.
"Fuckkkk"
I wasn't annoyed at the fact that my car wasn't running, I knew that it stalling was right around the corner. It was old, and I hadn't kept up with it by getting oil changes and tune-ups. So the coughing engine isn't what pissed me off. What I was mad at was if Anika was in her feelings one day, which she had been much more often, and decided not to take me somewhere I needed to go, then I was stranded.
Honk, honk
I looked up and saw that the only car moving in the lot was an all-white BMW. The windshield and rest of the windows were tinted so dark that I didn't even know how the driver could see out.
The car pulled into the empty parking spot next to me, and when the driver got out, my heart sank. He rested a Bojangles' bag onto the roof of his car, and my mouth watered, reminding me that it was one in the afternoon, and I hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch. Or maybe, my taste buds watered at the sight of him. He wore a black Nike tech sweatsuit. The hoodie was zipped down a little revealing his clean white shirt and three diamond chains. The simplicity of him fed my curiosity. I felt like I had to know him.
"Yuh look cute today, lil babe. Yuh hungry?"
I had forgotten that he was going to pop out on me. Well, I didn't forget. I just thought that he wouldn't. You know how niggas just like to talk shit? I thought that's what this was. I guess I thought wrong. Holding my books in one arm, with my free hand, I tucked my hair behind my ear. I didn't think that I looked good at all. Insecurities started to sink in. I had thrown on a pink Victoria's Secret sweatsuit with some chocolate Uggs when I was rushing out for class earlier that day. Back home in New York, I would have had to put on a coat, so I was thankful for the weather, all I needed was a sweater.
"I'm actually starving," I answered.
I closed in the space between us by walking over to his car. I made sure to stay on the passenger side, though. I had to keep my self-control in check. He wore the same smirk that he had on the night before as he watched me place my books onto the roof of his car and lean up against it how he was.
"That's you?" he asked as he looked behind me.
My beat-up ass car.
"Well, it was, shit, not starting no more."
"I see. Pop ya hood, han me ya keys and then get in my shit so yuh can eat."
Pop my hood? The nigga didn't strike me as the type of man to know his way around a car. That day is when I had learned to not judge a book by its cover. I put my books into his car, and then I did what he said. From the passenger side of his car, I ate my chicken and fries and just observed. I watched him take off his sweater and put it on my driver's seat. His arms were covered in tattoos. I guess the night before, I didn't realize them because the party was poorly lit. After getting tools out of the trunk of his car, his hands fidgeted under my hood while his eyebrows dipped in thought. After a thigh and two legs eaten later, he sat into my driver's seat, turned my key, and it started. She didn't purr like a kitten, but she started, and I was thankful for that.
