Cliché

Cliche - This Was A Mistake

                                                     " Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beholder"  

"Damn, you look sexy as hell, ma," Quamaine said, eyeing my outfit from head to toe. 

I smiled letting him in, so that he wouldn't have to stand around on the porch in the hot sun. I tried not to do too much for the outfit cause I ain't want to give him no ideas. Besides, I wasn't planning on going on a date with him anyways.

Dressed down in a white t-shirt, cashmere cardigan, metallic floral jacquard pants, and my nylon mini bag, along with the aviator sunglasses that I recieved from Juicy Couture, I was envied by many. He licked his lips making his way into the living room.

"Thank you, I try not to over do my dressing."

"Sh*t you fooled me then, cause you all Juicy'd up."

"Shut up, you the one flossing in your Louis not me."

"Well, I guess we both rocking in our designer."

"You know it ain't sh*t to a boss."

"You ain't a boss until you get with me."

"Now, I don't know about all that, you doing a lul too much right there."

"We gone see about that."

"Yeah, we gone see."

"So, you gone tell me what happened to your face or not?"

"I got into a fight at my job."

"You got a job? Where at?"

"Charlotte Russe."

"What you was fighting for?"

"You asking too many questions. Lemme go slide my shoes on, so we can go."

"Aight, mane."

I kissed my teeth, running upstairs to put on my black loafers. Once my shoes were placed on my feet, I said bye to my mama, and left out the house with Quamaine. We hopped in the Benz truck, adjusting in out leather seats. I smiled at him, it was kind of a first instinct to him looking my way. He flashed me a smile back, before starting up the car. He popped in the album Finesse Father, and sped his way to the bowling alley.

We were no where near my neighborhood anymore, and we weren't in the hood neither. I was kind of relieved because I didn't want to go on a date with him at no ol' raggedy ass bowling alley that had solicitors everywhere trying to sell ol' bootleg ass dvd's and cd's. He hopped out the car, and to my surprise opened up the door for me.

"Thank you."

"It ain't a thang." he smiled helping out the car. We walked hand in hand into the bowling alley.

It was dark as soo as you walked in. The snack bar was crowded with kids who tended to only order nachos and burgers. Adults in their mid thirties to twenties sat quietly at the bar making small conversation with their guest. Quamaine made his way to the register. He paid for two whole games of bowling. For a moment I though he'd invited his friends, but he asssured me that tonight was just about me and him getting to know each other.

We slipped on our bowling shoes, but before we began to play he bought us some snacks and drinks.

"You ready to play? But I'm gone for-warn you that you not gone win, babgirl." he said sternly.

"I'm ready, but you not gone beat me."

"When was the last time you bowled?"

"When I was ten."