' THE RAPTURE ' › D. SWING [ DISCONTINUED ]

v.

I had woken up way before everyone else because my mind had been racing since last night and truth be told, I had only been able to sleep for three hours because of it. All I kept thinking about was 'Is he going to be angry at me and kick me out?' And for whatever reason, I was actually curious as to whether he and Shannon were getting back together or not. I've seen it often—where the 'baby daddy' and 'baby mama' still sleep with each other occasionally but DeVantè didn't seem like the type to sleep around just for the hell of it anymore. At least he shouldn't be. He's damn near fifty. Why did I care so much, though? I sighed, taking the last pancake off of the pan and placed it onto the stack of ones I had previously made before turning the burner off and taking off the mittens, hanging them back on the hooks that stuck out of the wall. You can tell this nigga never cooks. The only mittens he got are the ones he uses for decoration. I shook my head, glancing over the food I had prepped to see what was missing. Drinks. I took two glasses and two coffee mug out of the cabinets, rinsing them out and set them on the counter as I went to start the coffee maker. I knew that DeVantè drank coffee, as well as myself but I wasn't too sure about Shannon and Dyana so I was going to play it safe and just give them some orange juice. As I opened the refrigerator, I could hear Dyana coming down the hallway, talking on the phone. She didn't say anything as I glanced back at her, only reluctantly waving and sitting down on the couch to kick her feet up on coffee table. I brushed it off, getting out the carton of orange juice and quickly pouring it into the glasses then placing it back since I was positive that would be my last time using it. If the wanted refills, they'll have to get it themselves.

I could hear giggles and chuckles coming down the hallway before Shannon and DeVantè came into view, walking directly toward the kitchen. Shannon was wearing his t-shirt he had went to bed in while he only wore sweatpants, his chest exposed, revealing the very tattoos that had Hollywood talking back in the 90s. It was so weird seeing them up-close but I quickly averted my attention elsewhere, grabbing his mug from the counter and placing it underneath his complicated coffee maker. I could've sworn I started this thing already. I furrowed my eyebrows as I tapped the mug button on the screen and figured that maybe it ran out of water, going to go get a bottle from the refrigerator.

"You let strangers dig in your fridge?", Shannon inquired as she looked up at DeVantè who was watching me.

He shrugged, "No."

"Then why is she in there?", Shannon continued, clearly looking for a reaction out of me but I wasn't going to give her one.

"Because she's not a stranger." He chuckled and shook his head, going to the coffee maker along with me after I had gotten the bottle of water, helping me by lifting the top of the maker open while I poured the water inside. I could hear her kiss her teeth and I ignored it, hoping that she'd just shut up and sit down somewhere until it was time to eat.

Suddenly, her voice sounded closer than before as if she was right behind me. When I glanced back, sure enough, she was. Her arms were wrapped around DeVantè's waist as she smirked at me then back up at him, "I don't know if Donny told you this but I like my coffee...black." She attempted to say the word seductively as she lifted her index finger and dragged it down his chest to his abdomen while running her tongue over her lips and I almost gagged.

"I'm not sure if you want strangers makin' your coffee but you're more than welcome to make it yourself", I replied, staring at her like she had lost her damn mind.

I don't what it is about white women who date black men but I have yet to meet one that wasn't using them to treat their strange 'nigger dick' fetish or to simply disrespect a black woman and rub it in her face in order to make her feel less than. Sadly, it looked as though Shannon was fitting into that same category with the rest of them. And what bothered me most was DeVantè was one of those black men who pretended not to notice. At this point, I wasn't sure if white girls were just his 'preference' or if he had just been dating them for systematic validation. Whatever it was, he needed to figure it out because there was no way in hell I was going to sit back and openly accept discrete racism. I don't care who she was.