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Hanging Out and Hormones

 “No,” Aug said, shaking his head at me, “What the fuck you doin?”

 I stopped, “You got a problem with everything I do!” I exclaim.

 “Sis, you porin milk in ya ice cream,” He says, staring at me blankly.

 I shrugged, “I like it like this.” I tell him.

 It might sound gross, and at first it was—when I saw my brother do it—but I tried it and it wasn't at all bad.

 “But dats nasty,” He makes a disgusted face, staring at the lumpiness of my ice cream in the cup.

 I scooped up a spoon and held it out to him, “Try.” I said and he eyed it in disgust, “Jus one time and I haven't ate off the spoon yet.” I said lightly.

 For a moment he let his eyes move from me to the spoon then he leaned forward, parting his lips to take the spoon in his mouth.

 Lord…

 I pressed my thighs together, watching his lips as he pulled away and let go of the spoon.

 “Is not that bad.” He says after a couple of seconds.

 I smiled smugly, playing it off as if I wasn't just ogling his lips, “It’s not. It still tastes the same, it's just lumpy. I like feeling the ice crystals in my mouth, that's why I do it.” I explain.

 He laughed, “Yeah, I notice that too.”

 I grin in accomplishment, “See, you like it.”

 He laughed again lightly, and my phone started vibrating. I looked over at it and grinned.

 “Wanna meet my brother?” I asked and he shrugged.

 I answered and put the phone on speaker, setting it between us.

 “Y 3.” I answered.

 “Yeeeeeeooooooowwwwww!” Is what came out of the phone, his voice high pitched and I laughed, “Wah dem a guh do yah now!”

 I looked up at August to see him staring at the phone with his eyebrows raised, making me laugh even harder.

 “Aren't you supposed to be at work?” I ask, for the sake of making August understand. At least on my part.

 “A mi day off, suh mi dos a chill, a’know?” He replies, “An yuh feel mi nuh see yuh.”

 “Wah mi do?” I ask in confusion.

 “Bo you a teck pictcha wid man.” He says.

 “You saw that?” I ask, acting dumb.

 “‘You saw dat’,” He mocks, his words heavy with his accent, “Bo yuh av man. Mi a tell daddy.”

 I laughed, “He's not tho and he's sitting right in front of me.” I tell him, “Yuh deh pah speaka, but him nuh know wah yuh a seh.”

 “A lie. Weh him name?” He asks.

 “August.” I said, smiling at a confused looking Aug across from me.

 “Hey, August, what's up man?” My brother says through the phone, with his thick accent. My dad and my brothers could never master an American accent to save their lives.

 “Am good…” Aug says hesitantly.

 “You and my sister together?” He asks.

 I reach up to slap a palm to my forehead as August lets out a low chuckle.