Page 20 of Not My Type
“No, I’m not.” I breathe.
“How you sound like yuh tired a me so?” he smirks at me. I stay quiet. He’s right. A chuckle leaves his lips and I take him in. Once again. He’s actually quite handsome behind his badman demeanour. He’s around 6’3 with a warm, fair complexion, dark brown eyes, and a straight nose with the juiciest pair of lips. Oh, and the prettiest lashes.
He has low, full beard that grew around his chin with neatly trimmed sideburns. My eyes continues to roam over him, admiring the sharp, clean fade at the front and along the sides. His plaits pulled back neatly. My gaze drops to his attire. Suh’m bout him wearing all black sends tingles between my thighs. I squeeze them together. Wah deh get inna me?
“Mi right?” he asks again.
“My grandma always say if I have something bad to say I should just stay quiet,” I tell him. He smirks.
“I like that. What’s your name?” he asks me.
“Ms. Williams,” I purposely say. A lady comes by the table and he moves over.
“Excuse me, I’m here for Jessica Davis,” she smiles. As I search for her daughter’s report card I feel his eyes on me. I’m kinda nervous. I take a deep breath and find it then I hand it to her after we signed oursignatures.
“Yes, the name weh mi a go call when mi want breakfast and them thing deh,” he says as soon as she walks away. I laugh at that.
“What?” I continue to laugh. “What are you implying?” I ask. He shrugs.
“Just mek me get your name.”
“Sara,” I lie, and the way he tilts his head, as if I’m the most enchanting girl he’s ever seen, sends a thrill through me. His eyes glimmer, swirling with desire.
“So easy?” he counters. “Mi nuh believe yuh.”
I smile, the air thickening with tension. His phone rings, and he takes my hand in his, sending my heart racing. This is too much at this point.
“Mi soon fawud mamz, mi just collect the man report... ahh... nuh say 40,” his voice low and husky. I look around and no one is looking at us suspiciously. It’s good that everyone is minding their business.
“I have a boyfriend! You can’t just hold my hand like that, and this is not the place for this kind a convo,” I tell him matter-of-factly.
He shakes his head, he’s annoyed. I couldn’t care less. “Arite big up yuhself same way mi teacher,” I look at him as he walks off and find myself smiling. Oh My God. He’s not exactly my type. He’s too thug for me.What Zara!? Are you admiring that man? Why am I even thinking like this? I must be crazy.
9. COMPANY
Zara
“You think mommy aguh like this?” Mommy asks as she puts a polka-dot blanket in the camera. One thing I know for sure about Mama is that she highly believes in ‘less is more.’
“She’d love the maroon,” I say truthfully.
Mommy leans her head— pondering it. “Yeah, maybe she think it too pretty pretty.” She puts it aside and pick up the burgundy blanket instead and I carefully line my lips with my brown lip liner, just before adding my nude lipstick, followed by my lip gloss.
Mommy is shopping in Walmart. It’s her favorite place to shop, if not Target, when she’s sending us barrels. “I chose both,” I hear her say as I pop my lips. This lip combo ate zownnnnn. All now mi cya see nuh crumbs!
A smile tugs at my lips as I start brushing knots out of my hair. I have natural loose curls. People typically call it ‘coolie’ hair. I hate when they do, but I rarely wear it because one, it’s difficult to groom, and two, wigs are just my thing. Sometimes I do style my hair bone straight if I feel like it though. Or if mi nuh have the wig funds. Thinking of that, I need to call Clova to make a hair appointment. I want to try a short hair, so I’m thinking of getting a bob wig. I’ll do that tomorrow. I’ve never tried bobs.
“You think Bob cut would fit me?” I ask curiously, and notice that she’s speaking to an employee. As soon as her eyes turns to the phone, I ask my question again. “You think a Bob cut would fit me?”
She nods. “Of course, yuh see yuh face shape just like your father, Bob fits your face.” The moment she mentions him my smile fades. Don’tget me wrong, I don’t hate my father, but he definitely doesn’t deserve to be talked about— especially by mommy. The amount a things him do her and she still strong.
Gavin and Sash appear out of nowhere, and walk in, without knocking as if it’s their room. “Hey Aunty Michelle,” They greet in unison.
“What’s up? Look how long mi nuh hear from you guys,” Mommy beams. They respond merrily. My smile lingers as I navigate between their conversation and combing my hair.
“You look good though Aunty mek mi see yuh good!” Gavin starts. I smile, grabbing my hair to the back. It’s a struggle especially with these elastics. She laughs loudly. I zone out their conversation as I get my hair slick back.
“See the phone yer,” Sash says after a while.
