Benevolence

Chapter 8: A Call to the Past

"What the hell happened to you?" Asks Bryan, his coffee brown orbs dancing over the dark bags under my eyes.

"I didn't get any sleep last night," I say. I mean it's true, but not entirely. Taking a seat beside him, I scoot closer to rest my head against his shoulder.

He inhales deeply, beating his pen against the desk. "I don't think you're being honest with me," he concludes.

"Bry I'm fine, just sleep-deprived."

"Sure," he says, sounding halfway convinced. "I hear you... I'd actually believe you if I wasn't aware of every person in here dying from lack of sleep." He sits up to get a better look at me, a deep crease forming between his brows. "...You look like you've been crying, Alaina."

"And you look like you overexerted yourself and did another overtime last night. Anything else you'd like to point out? Because we can go back and forth all day."

"All right class," Professor Adams interjects, barging into the room with his brown leather briefcase swinging wildly from its strap. "What did you learn in this week's reading?"

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just snap at me," Bryan mutters. "You can borrow my shoulder for the next three hours. But eventually, you're going to have to tell me who that energy was really meant for."

*******

Well, I did a little more than just "borrow" his shoulder. I slept on it throughout the entire filming. I blame it on the lighting in this class-- which is the bare minimum, and also my comfort in knowing that I've watched Clarence Brown's Intruder in the Dust about a dozen times. I wake up to the sounds of shuffling feet, just in time to leave.

"What-- do I have something on my face?" I ask Bryan, walking down the narrow aisle of steps. He's been staring at me with that stupid grin on his face ever since I woke up.

"Yeah, you got a little drool,"--He points to the corner of his mouth-- "right there," he says.

I go to wipe it, sweeping at the corners of my lips, but don't feel anything. "Is it dried up or something?" He chuckles deeply. "Bry, come on. I don't wanna leave class like this."

"You slept through the entire lecture and can still pass a pop quiz. Wear your drool with pride," he teases.

"Stop playing, and just point it out," I say, looking around the room in search of any witnesses.

"I'm sure Yazmine has a mirror in her purse," he says looking towards the front of the room. "Maybe you can ask to borrow hers."

I narrow my eyes at him. "If this is another one of your ploys to play peacemaker, you need to cut it out."

"I guarantee, whatever's going on between you and Hilary, I'm not a part of it."

I stare back at him, pretending not to be amused by his reference to Will Smith's sister off The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. "So, I'm guessing there's no drool and I'm supposed to be Ashley?"

He quirks a brow, tilting his head as if to say if the shoe fits. And I try-- I do, but I can't help it. My laughter echoes throughout the lecture room, and Bryan's deep chuckle follows. "You're such an ass, I swear."

"The ass of all asses, remember?"

He always claims he wants nothing to do with Me and Yazmine's friendship, but two weeks later he'll be throwing hints that we should just kiss and make up. I shake my head, glancing down at the girl I once considered a sister. She's regal, with smooth mocha brown skin and one hell of a city accent. She's always dressed in the finest, with full lips perfectly glossed, and eyeliner deadly sharp. Oh--and let's not forget the jet-black weave that runs pin-straight down the length of her back, the slight bump to the ends alluding to her air of perfectionism. She never keeps a style in for more than a week. "We gotta keep these niggas on their toes," I remember her saying... It took a lot for me to sever ties.