Their Stories (K.Dot)

JustFriends

"If two people are meant for one another,

that doesn't mean that they have to rush

and be together right away.

Real love takes time to grow,

just like how it takes time to grow

from children to adults."

-Jonathan Anthony Burkett, Friends 2 Lovers: The Unthinkable

Mariah Peyton

"Darrell," I begged.

"No, Mariah,"

"Please?"

"Uggghhhh," he groaned.

"Pretty please with a cherry on top?" I begged once more. My knees were on the floor of my bedroom and both of my hands were clasped together. Usually I never beg so this has to be a big deal for me. Especially if I'm dealing with my best friend, Darrell Crawlings.

"Okay, fine!" he gave in. "I'll go with you,"

"THANK YOU!" I yelled as I sprang upward and gave him the biggest hug ever.

"Yeah yeah yeah, I'm the best," he said, hugging me back.

"Yes you are!" I cheesed. "This is the second time since eighth grade you came to one of my readings,"

"Yeah I know," he pulled back and plumped on my bed. "Like four years ago or some sh-t,"

"Aye now, why vulgar language?"

"Man, you know how I get down," he smirked.

"Oh wow. Just because you're from the hood doesn't mean sh-t,"

"See? And you talk about my word usage," he chuckled.

I sucked my teeth. "Whatever. At least I only use it when I need to,"

"Oh like I don't,"

"Uh duh," I stood in front of him, playfully at least.

"So now you wanna act black huh," he stood up and pulled a Birdman hand motion on me.

"Yes I am," I pulled his hands apart. Soon we started to play fight, with him winning as usual.

"You know you can't beat me with your sixty pound self!" he laughed.

"N-gga I'm ninety four thank you very much!" I laughed right back.

"D-mn," he pinned me on the floor. "Thirty-four pounds more,"

"Oh shut up," I smiled. "It's a difference,"

"I know," he let me go. "Just messin' with you baby girl,"

"Mhm," I grunted, while he helped me up. "You spending the night, right?"

He gave me a look. "Uh, you see my stuff don't you?" he asked, pointing out his bags.

"Uh, you see yourself being a smart butt don't you?" I asked, going through my closet.

"Why can't you say smart a-s?"

"Because, Ima good girl," I stated, pulling out my outfit for Saturday: Black skinny jeans, Black turtleneck, and black ballet flats. This is my attire for every one of my poetry readings.

Yes. I said poetry.

"Yeah, keep on using that excuse," he said, grabbing his bag and heading into the bathroom.