Page 21 of Not My Type
“What a way yuh hair catch neat,” Mommy compliments.
“You know mi try,” I say with the warmest smile. Gavin comes behind me.
“The gyal have use Aunty,” he runs his fingers through my ponytail and we laugh.
“What time you have?” Mommy questions.
“7 o’ clock,” I retort then she says. “Oh, so what time the nine night a start?
“About dem time yer but yuh know how yuh daughta take years fi ready,” he says, pinching my cheeks. I roll my eyes playfully and hear mommy chuckling.
“Mi a leff unuh mek unuh get ready, call mi later baby,” she purses her lips. I do the same— in the perfect kiss gesture, just before we smile sweetly. It’s our thing.
“Dem cute essi,” Gavin coos before telling her to ‘take care.’ Sash waves then the call ends. I spray oil sheen in my hair. “Your real hair reallypretty enuh, yuh fi wear it more,” his voice warm. For a moment I feel good about wearing my natural hair, only to hear Sash’s remark.
“No, it make yuh look too much like a teacher,” What does that mean? My eyes find her.
“Wah you mean?” my eyebrows furrow.
“It mek you look too decent yuh just need a glasses with it,” she smiles. Oh?
“Leff the gyal true yuh head dry?” he hisses before he looks back at me. “Yuh know how much people want pretty hair?”
“Gavin every hair texture pretty,” I shake my head. This is the exact reason why I preferred wigs. Less Judgement, and I could easily fit in.
An hour passes before I’m finally dressed. I decided to do a simple but cute look, a Celine blouse, black leggings and my custom chrome Bridgets. The straps practically transparent, shiny, like they’re barely there, and cute as they sit between my white pedicured toes. Yess gyal come out eeeh! I stole some of Mama’s Estee Lauder Beautiful, coating it with my Yara, my Gucci Flora and look at my reflection in the mirror, my ponytail swinging. Go awfff. I smile at my appearance once more before I grab my Dior saddle bag and walk out. I find an irritated Gavin sitting in the living room. Ooop.
“Remind me fi nuh carry yuh nowhere again,” he frowns.
I laugh. “Where is Sash?”
“She gone already, the boyfriend mussy wah help in a the bar,” he says in a sarcastic tone.
“Ohh,” I say and follow him out. I can’t tell the last time I actually walked through Homestead. It feels so new to me, maybe because I’malways taking an Uber or an Ontime. “Is it walking distance?” I ask, and he shakes his head no.
“If we walk we nah reach fi now,” he retorts and stops a taxi just in time. We climb in the back and greet the passengers. I breathe out.
My thoughts immediately turn to Jordane’s brother. I bite my nails subtly. He has been plaguing my mind ever since that moment at school. The heartbeat between my legs increase— so does my actual heart. I immediately squeeze my thighs together to quell the feeling.
This is all too strange to me.
I relax in the seat and try to focus on the moving buildings through the window instead, but I keep seeing his lustful stare and hearing his deep, husky voice. Draws a wet up? Lord Jesus help me! Is a likkle piece of leggings me inna! It can’t withstand the puddle that’s gathering there.
Zara, over a man you nuh know? Who’s clearly not your type?
I can’t help it. Not even Malik got me like this during actual sex. Imagine. It’s oddly riveting. It makes me curious about him. Like, I kinda want to know him. *Cough Cough*
The sound of old school music blasting in the distance tells me that we’re almost there. I welcome the new focus. My big brown eyes peer outside at the crowd of people along the way. There are cars parked on both sides of the road causing the driver to move slowly.
“Why so much people nuh have on no mask, like COVID nah bother keep,” a middle-aged woman mutters from the passenger seat.
“Long time dat stop keep lady,” Gavin chimes in before saying. “Right yer so,” to the driver. He pulls over. We get out and Gavin pays our fare. I was about to speak but I refuse to compete with the music. I can barely hear myself.
“See the gyal Sash deh!” Gavin blurts in my ear as we approach the house. Sash is serving soup. She spots us and walks over to us–her forehead twisted in worry. I wonder what’s wrong.
“Unuh wah soup!?” she shouts over the music and we nod. I don’tlove it but I’ll take it or whatever. Gavin steps in front of her.
“Mi will do this fi yuh,” he says. He takes the apron and sanitizes his hands. She’s relieved, she doesn’t have to utter a word for me to notice. Her smile is radiant in the poorly lit area.
