Thoughts about N'Jadaka often find themselves passing through your mind; sometimes they're positive, often they're negative, but if there's one thing for sure it's that you currently want to fight him as he sits smirking devilishly at your parents.
You huff at him for being petty, snatching your shorts from him as he holds them up to you lazily. He makes sure to 'accidentally' trip you as you rush forward to greet your parents properly, and your mom is looking as amused as ever as you go to hug Dad first. He has this look on his face that he gets whenever somebody cheats while playing cards and you honestly want to laugh but this could really get serious. He carries.
"Mom, Dad," you start, suppressing laughter at the way your mom is trying to do the same. "This is..Erik. Mom, you met him at-"
"I remember," she says, cutting you off with a elbow nudge to your chest. The difference between your parents' personalities was obvious the second they came in the door. Your mother, while initially shocked, decided to find the hilarity in the situation like she always does. She was always more open to the fact that you were growing up during your teenage years, and never shied away from being real with you when it came to boys. She got that you were going to do what you were going to do, just be safe while doing it.
Your dad, however...sheesh. 'Overprotective' isn't enough to describe the man and he doted on and spoiled you as a child. The only kid, the only daughter. He always meant well, but damn did he get unbearable once you turned 13 and discovered the attractions of boys. He just had to personally supervise all of your birthday parties when you invited your guy friends, just had to try and scare you when you met and found first love in that kid Reggie from homeroom. That conversation about the dangers of STDs lasted an hour and a half until your mom intervened.
By now, N'Jadaka has sauntered over and your mom is making googly eyes at the both of you much to your amusement. What isn't amusing, though, is how he rolls his shoulders and tilts his head as he stares down your father.
"Hey," you hiss, hitting him in the stomach. "Don't do that to him."
He leans down to one of your ears. "Then tell that nigga to watch his mouth."
Luckily, your mother saves it by asking N'Jadaka about what he does for a living (and wouldn't you like to know), leaving you to focus on taking the bags from your father. You pull him aside with a nervous smile, but he keeps looking behind you at N'Jadaka.
"Erik, huh," he scoffs. "Where you find his ass at?"
"Dad," you go, tugging his shirt. "I 'found' him at the barbecue. Please be nice."
He doesn't pay you one bit of mind as he asks, "You ain't never said nothin' about him."
It's so damn hard not to crack up laughing but this fool of a father of yours sounds like he's straight out of a 70s blaxploitation film sometimes and it's starting to get hard to try and diffuse this situation. While it's true that you haven't mentioned 'Erik' once the past couple months, it's less to do with you being ashamed and more to do with the fact that you didn't even know what the two of you were doing. Hell, you still don't.
"Aye, lil bit, lemme talk to you real quick."
You turn around with a sigh, following N'Jadaka over to the patio doors as your mother cackles at something your father mumbles under his breath.
N'Jadaka just looks at you and you already know what that means. Getting on your knees and begging his ass not to go until he has you 'limping' like he said would be out of the damn question. You feel like screaming, but you can't blame your parents for wanting to come see the new place. Their habit of not calling first is always appreciated by you.
