Please excuse ANY grammatical errors.
February 14, 1992
~DeVanté's P.O.V~
"Do you love me, DeVanté?" Jessa asked me, laying on her side, still naked.
"You want me to be honest?" I said lifting my brow at her then looked up at the ceiling.
"Yes," she shifted her eyes.
"Truth is I don't." I said without a care in the world.
"Are you serious!?" She said sitting up, moving her blonde hair out of her face.
"I don't know why you so surprised, I be telling y'all broads what it is from the jump." I lifted my top half off the bed.
"Broad!? I'm not a broad, are you saying I'm not the only one you're with!?"
"Your words not mine." I said holding my hands up, shrugging.
"The box of chocolates had I love you on it. Why'd you get me that?" Her blonde, almost nonexistent eyebrows furrowed, blending into her skin tone.
I got up getting dressed, already knowing what this was about to lead to. "You mean the chocolates I ate?" I chuckled buckling my belt.
She scoffed, and pushed me. "You son of a bitch! My father warned me about you black guys, and I didn't listen. I listened to my damn friends instead. Telling me black guys are good in bed, but failed to mention their lack of love."
"Hmm," I put my shirt and pants on, then left out of the room, down the stairs, and grabbed my keys off the table.
"So, you're just going to leave me like this!?" Jessa yelled at me. I ignored her and kept walking towards the door.
"DeVanté I'm pregnant!" She yelled from the stairs, looking at me.
"Okay? And? It ain't my baby." I said nonchalantly, putting on my shoes, coat, then my gloves.
"But it is," she lowered her voice.
"It's definitely not. I bring my OWN protection, and when I'm through I check that shit with water. Then flush it down the toilet. I'm super careful, that's how I know it ain't mines IF you ARE pregnant. Apparently I wasn't the only one either. Bitches always trying to trap niggas." I opened the front door and walked out.
"Got some fucking nerve." I mumbled.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" I heard from behind me. When I turned around I saw her charging at me, she was all red, almost demonic looking. My eyes widened, what the hell? She came up to me and started hitting, and scratching all over me.
"Aye! Ayo stop that shit!" I yelled now even more irritated. We ARE in a predominantly white neighborhood, and if they see this they WILL call the police Not to mention it's a quarter after three IN THE MORNING. He kept hitting, punching, and scratching
"Get your god damn hand off of me." I grabbed her wrist, stopping her.
She was crying hard as hell, with a red ass face. She was huffing and puffing like a blowfish. "RAAAAPPPEEE!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, into the early morning air. A black man in a white neighborhood, grabbing a NAKED white woman yelling rape, they gon' call the police!
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(18+) Come & Talk to Me: A DeVanté Swing Fanfiction
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