Sidechick Syn·dro·me
1. A female who is use to being second or at a lower position in her partner(s) heart.
2. One who feels she is not worthy of love to the fullest potential.
"Man my jump-off is crazy! I think she got sidechick syndrome."
Synonyms...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Hi, welcome to McDonald's. Next in line please."
I stepped up to the counter and sniffled from the cold I had, looking up at the board. I already knew what I wanted but I had a bad habit of walking in and looking at the menu anyway. After a few seconds of pretending to browse the menu, I look the cute 5'11 White male cashier in his blue eyes and smiled. He smiled back awkwardly and furrowed his eyebrows as if he thought I was weird and didn't know why I was smiling at him.
"Yeah, um, I'd like a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit with a small hot chocolate. No whip cream." I say. I usually loved whip cream but too much dairy was not a good combination while being trapped in school.
The cute White cashier pressed some buttons on the register and looked up at me for a split second, I guess too weirded out by my intense smiling to want to hold eye contact. I was more weirded out he didn't get I was just flirting. Didn't guys know stuff like this? Fuck it, I guess.
"Eight dollars and twenty eight cents is your total, ma'am."
For a quarter sized sandwich and pint size hot chocolate, lucky this shit taste so good. I thought, I already had my wallet in my hand so I quickly pull out a ten and wait for my change. I get my change and receipt and slide off to the corner to wait on my number to be called.
I stood off to the side, still trying to catch the attention of blond hair blue eyed boy, who oddly enough notices me but keeps looking away each time. Most guys wouldn't hesitate to be in my face. What was wrong with blue eyed boy? I wondered if he only dated girls with straight hair. If that was the case then I was gonna have to let him go. My curls were not going anywhere. They were a reminder of my mother and it was my natural hair texture. Besides, flat hair was boring. I flatten my hair, but hardly.
Two minutes go by when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around coming face to face with Rashaad. I smile and hug him, his hands wrapping around my waist. Ever since his party two weeks ago, I've only been able to contact him through social media, but I had to say that was on me. School was not my best friend.
"What's good, sexy."
"Whassup, I ain't see you in a minute." I remark.
"Yeah 'cause you need to bring your ass to school. You be playing." He laughed.
