“Uh… you’re not my baby daddy.”
This fool just shrugs. “So? Dal isn’t either, and she was finna go with you.”
I scratch my scalp and glance around the room before landing back on him. “Why come?”
“Why not?” he shoots back. He grabs his popcorn and begins munching on it.
Why not?A grin spreads on my face. Another plot-driven person. I chuckle and shake my head to clear it and my tummy of butterflies.
“You’re a mess Shotta.”
His hand freezes midair before he turns to me again. “Shad. Shaddy works, too. Rahshad if I make you mad. But that Shotta shit is dead, Mace.”
Who the hell does he think he’s talking to?
I huff and fold my arms, but on the inside, I’m screaming. First-name basis with Shotta?!
Shit, he’s halfway to falling in love with me.
“You gone press play?” he says with a full mouth.
I turn the movie back on, then snatch the bowl from him and munch on some buttery ass popcorn.
Oh, this nigga’s serious.
Shotta, or Shaddy I guess, breezes through the kitchen as I fix a bowl of cereal. That clean cologne of his permeates the air, and he makes a black durag, white tee, and black joggers look delicious.
He grins at me as he leans across from me on the island. “Good morning. Ready?”
“I, uh–”
“You can eat that in the car. We gone be late.”
“But, Dal–”
“I texted her last night. C’mon. I got questions.” This nigga grabs my wrist like I’m made of glass, grabs my bowl, and whisks me away to his Jeep.
And he actually had questions.
And asked them.
This nigga is delulu as fuck.
I mean, I had questions, too, but Shaddy completely stole the show. A couple people recognized him andcongratulatedhim on his pregnancy. And you know what this nigga did? He wrapped a long, muscly arm around me and thanked them.
My jaw was permanently dropped. He charmed our instructor, and got her to teach about the dangers of constipation and dairy, side-eyeing me the whole time.
When I kicked him under the table, this nigga laughed.Laughed!
It isn’t until I’m safely sequestered in this nigga’s Jeep that my jaw leaves the floor and I’m able to think again. But as soon as I reach for my seatbelt to unbuckle it, this nigga slides into the driver’s seat.
“What the fuck, Sha–”
“What I say bout that Shotta shit?” he grits, like he has a reason to be mad.
“I was gonna say Shaddy, nigga. What the fuck was all that in there? Youdoknow this ain’t that, right?”
This nigga turns the engine over and we zoom toward the border of South and West Kenton.
