"Nia." Her name softly fell from his lips and she soaked in his sweet breath like a pancake to syrup. Her eyes were low and she was watching his chest rise and fall. She couldn't look at him just yet. She was frozen in place.
With just this brazen...
When Malcolm Streeter had asked Nia Birch to be his girlfriend the first time, she thought he was joking.
It was 2006, they were 13, they were best friends and Nia Birch was the exceptionally logical Nia Birch.
It happened exactly a year after Malcolm, his sister, and mother had moved onto her street. It was in Nia's lilac bedroom, between walls trimmed with wallpapered lavender flowers, and splashed with R&B and rap artist magazine posters - Nia's protest to her mother's obscene paint colour choice. Actually, that was probably Nia's only rebellion to her parents... ever.
Nia wasn't a regular child. She was mature, but not in the way that creepy predators described early bloomers. Nia was responsible, straight edged, organized and determined. She hadn't decided exactly what she had wanted to be when she grew up, but she knew she wanted to work in a fancy office downtown and take lunches with her girlfriends. She also knew she didn't want to work too hard or be stressed out like a teacher; though summer vacation was a definite perk.
Even at 13, Nia knew how she wanted to look and be perceived. She would wake up an hour early each school day to colour coordinate her outfit and the bubbles and clips wound and tucked in jet black coily hair. Her homework and school projects were usually done as soon as they were assigned.
She wasn't a romantic; she knew she found some boys cute, but also that relationships were complex and that couples broke up all the time thanks to her J14 and Word Up! magazine subscriptions.
So, lying on Nia's neatly spread bed with Malcolm, a boy, sharing iPod headphones, listening to a playlist he made, staring at the popcorn ceiling with the door to her pristine room closed, wasn't an abnormal occurrence. It was a trusted norm between Nia and her parents.
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When Bow Wow's Shortie like Mine echoed into their ears, Malcolm sat upright, his white XXL tee pooling in his lap. Nia couldn't understand the fashion trends he subscribed to. He was tall for his age, but lean. A medium would have sufficed.
"Are you getting ready to go home? I know your mom takes those street lights seriously."
"Yes... wait. No. No, not yet." Malcolm furrowed his thick charcoal brows.
"Oookay." Nia shrugged and sat up too.
"I feel like this song describes you. To me. I- I want this to be our song. Nia, will you be my girl?" The caramel skin on his cheeks blushed. Nia imagined it carried like a wave to the back of his neck hidden under his black durag.
"Mac, you can't prank me. We discovered that after April Fools months ago. I'm too practical."
"I'm being serious!"
"Oh." She said quietly. "Well, I like hanging out with you Malcolm. Would me being 'your girl' change that at all?" She made air quotes with her fingers. Her silver painted nails shone as she moved them.
