Zebrahead (interracial)

Georgi(Brend)a

A coward.
That's exactly what I was.

How could I confess what I confessed to Brenda, and then right after let Georgia talk to her that way?

I felt somewhat disgusted with myself. What the hell was I thinking?!

Georgia picked irritatedly at her food. Most likely she was irritated with me. I hadn't said much to her on the ride to her house, after we had decided to come here.

Well I didn't have much of a say, so I guess she decided for both of us.

Finally, she slammed her fork on the table. She glared at me angrily. I slowly brought my attention to her red flared face.

"What is wrong with you? Did that nigger girl do something to you?" She questioned in her high-pitched voice that suddenly irritated me more than she was annoyed with me.

"What's it to you?" I questioned back.

Georgia's eyes went wide. I had really done it this time.

"Daniel Byrd! How dare you talk to me that way?!" She nearly screamed at me.

I tried to grab her hand, but she snatched it away from me, barely giving me a feel of her smooth skin.

"Georgia, I'm sorry." I said apologetically.

I stood and went over to where she was seated at the table. I slipped myself beneath her and propped her on my lap as if she was a porcelain doll.

Her face had the pout that you would usually see on a three year old, or even my sister Dani. Her arms were crossed, and she looked ahead, breathing heavier because she was angry.

I planted my face in her back, inhaling the scent of her.

Wrapping my hands around her waist tightly, I began to plant light kisses on the back of her neck, trailing to her cheek. I stopped when I got to the lining of her lips.

"Please don't be upset, baby doll." I said, telling her what I knew she wanted to hear.

She turned her pouted face around to place a kiss directly onto my lips. As we kissed, my mind went racing. Things escalated, and sooner or later we were undressing in her brightly painted room. The pink floral wall painting that I once liked about her room suddenly ugly to me.

This wouldn't exactly be the first time I'd had sex with Georgia.

I'm almost positive I wasn't exactly Georgia's first either.

Or the last guy she was with.

I looked up at Georgia's face.

She seemed to be enjoying the ride, if you catch my drift.

Closing my eyes, I placed my hands on her hips, and replaced Georgia's face with who I really wanted it to be in my imagination.

Brenda Maywood.

****
I felt like I was participating in the bus boycott that was in Alabama.

My feet would surely be well calloused by the time I got home.

I walked, books pressed heavily to my chest, still in shock of what just unfolded in front of me.

Who did Daniel think he was?

You can't just do that! Confess your feelings, (well he kind of confessed his feelings,right?) and then do a complete turnaround when some pale-faced girl pulls up in a car that has a better skin tone than her.

Or can you?

I don't even know why I'm so upset. It's not like I had a crush on him or anything. With the way he just stood by, I don't think I can ever even look at him again.