Page 4 of Not My Type
I smirk at her ass, ‘round like an English pound. No flaws? She must be a mad gyal. Her gaze lands in the direction of my car. I adjust myself, trying to get a better look at her. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but... Shawdy is a ten. I sink my teeth in my bottom lip. Too perfect for my liking. She licks her plump lips and laugh. That man she had on that phone didn’t even know this was his last day with her. A day dawwg? I ask myself.
Ah, mi o’ gi ’em a week.
She quickly walks across the busy road. She nice eeeh mon? Nah lie a long-time mi nuh see a ooman suh nice.Batty big so!My subconscious smirks, palms spreading with the notion.
I jerk my legs involuntarily and switch my vape from one hand to the next, just before biting on my bottom lip once again. I look over at Jordane and he’s still staring too.
“Mi nuh tell yuh say a your type?” he asks rhetorically, a smirk forming on his lips. I press my head against the headrest, my eyes settlingon her.
2. YEARN
Zara
On my way out, I wave to the teachers in the office before I push the door open, basking in the gush of relief which floods through me. My eyes quickly dart to my Michael Kors watch that lies comfortably on my wrist. 3:15 PM. One thing’s for sure, mi a go gaw mi yard early— do this an’ beat mi!
Mommy pops in my thoughts, and I dive into my bag for my phone. She got me this watch for my birthday last year, and it’s like a little hug from her every time. I glance at it. Smiling, I click her number.
Mi really miss har.
“Hey baby,” her quirky voice bursts through the speaker as she sits her phone on the kitchen counter. Those mahogany-brown eyes of hers sparkles! She’s so beautiful— slim-thick with that gorgeous amber glow. I can’t help but admire her blonde hair tied up in a lazy claw clip style. “What’s up?” she asks.
“I’m leaving now butttttt the teaching experience was a ten!!!” She pops her mouth open.
“Yeah girlll!” she grins and clap her hands. Mommy dramatic essi. If she doesn’t clap her hands or hit you when she laughs, she doesn’t feel satisfied.
“And you know mi nuh surprised doh...” she stirs her pot with a ladle. “Cas you? Is a bright piece a gya!”
“From a longer time,” I giggle then she turns to the camera andmake the ‘period’ hand gesture. I laugh loudly, heedless of where I am, and how I should acquit myself.
Mommy is forty-two if you’re wondering but looks and acts as if she’s just twenty-four years old, just like my father. They were high school lovers, but him let go himself cause mommy lef him when he treated her like shit, blew his chance and pushed her into another man’s arms. Now him want pity? Tsk!
Mommy brings the phone closely to her face with a gigantic grin. My heart warms. All a girl ever wanted was to see her mommy smile.
Mi love the lady enuh!
My smile permanent. The students must think I’m talking to my man or something. *Cough Cough* I don’t even have a man to start. Anywho!
Mommy’s session of pep talk earlier really worked, because my anxiety? would a kill mi off. No doubt when God a make me, him dash a bucket of anxiety pan mi! Why me one affi anxious so? Jesus Christ mon! I heave a sigh and shake my head at those thoughts, now focusing on each step I take towards the gate. Jago Big enuh. Mi really affi go do this til the practicum over? Really? Inwardly, I hiss. I don’t even walk in Homestead.
As expected, the security flashes a wide smile at me. Why him a try so hard? He’s too nice—that’s a turn off, but being my usual pleasant self, I return his smile, shifting my focus back to the Face-time.
I amble through the gate and ask. “So wah yaw cook mommy?” before I pay close attention to the busy road. Nosah. A who dem wah fi cross dis?
“Mi a cook some shrimp and pumpkin soup,” she tells me. Oh, I hate that. I look right and notice that there are a chain of cars approaching. My eyes then trail to the left. On the side of the road, is a black Mercedes c63 with Prezi on the license plate. Um... a which Meech this have mi dream car?
I spot Jordane– I’m good with names. That hazel-eyed boy from Mrs. Adam’s Literature class who seems as if he should be out of schoolalready. There is another man inside the car but I’m unable to see him. A him father drive such an expensive car?
I peer at the road. It’s somewhat clear, perfect time to cross, I guess. With that thought, I scurry across, managing to not get hit by one of these psycho Spain drivers. Mi hate cross road enuh mon. Chro!
“Mommy, you still there?” I ask when I’m safely on the other side.
“Yes, I noticed that you’re on the road,” she retorts, sounding tired. I heave a sigh.
“Yeah, mi a wait on the Ontime taxi,” I tell her and notice that the driver of the Benz is staring at me. The car is darkly tinted but I can see his figure. My heart starts racing. Damn, I hate to be stared at, but I understand. Miss, how you full a yourself so?
“Alright baby,” her voice now distant. Seconds after, she sits with the phone, telling me how much she misses me. Me too. I smile sweetly, but my mind isn’t here. Zara, him still a look?
Mi nah look. So nuh you wan’ know too? I mean, I can tell he’s watching me. I’m painfully shy. I don’t know how, but I can feel his stare.
