It didn’t matter if the house wasn’t silent. If you listened hard enough, there was some kind of noise – the hum of the air conditioner in the window, or the sound of my dad murmuring into his phone from the kitchen, no doubt in another business call that took place starkly outside of his normal work hours. The noise was there… it just wasn’t enough.
I had taken up my usual place in the living room for a Friday afternoon, draped unceremoniously across the couch. My current best friend, a copy of Frank Herbert’s Dune, lay open upside-down on the top of the couch; my best friend and I were not currently on speaking terms. Some days I felt inspired enough to actually pretend to read it, but if I had to be honest, I wasn’t really getting much out of it. So instead it lay there, much like I did, except instead it was permanently opened halfway through, looking like an upside-down seagull mid-flight.
I was waiting for noise. Sweet noise. I knew what tranquility was like and it was boring. Maybe in middle school I was content with stillness, but high school was a time for growing up, making choices about your life, and most importantly, being reckless and irresponsible. And luckily, even if I wasn’t quite certain how to ensure that a girl praised as being a “shy sweet little thing” even could be reckless and irresponsible, my body took over for me.
The front door swung open and my older brother promptly stomped in, with his best friend right beside him. The two were mid-argument, and as always, my brother’s face was twisted into a serious scowl, while his pale-skinned friend’s face was more relaxed, sporting a goofy grin without a care in the world.
I smirked to myself. Serene chaos. Sweet bringer of noise.
“Khalil!” my mother admonished my brother in a loud voice, then reduced her volume to a hush. “Your father’s on the phone.”
Khalil stopped arguing and moved his neck lazily, shooting a gaze off towards the kitchen. “He’s in the kitchen, he can’t hear us,” he argued back. He got to argue back; after all, he was a boy.
His friend grinned at the defiance, looking around the room to see that I was smiling at the situation too. “Hey Azania.”
“Hey Darren,” I replied warmly. I kept my smile noticeable but not huge.
My hotheaded brother had turned his attention to my mom and began arguing with her about the noise. My poor exasperated mother, who was as white as Darren was, didn’t like to get too emotionally involved when arguing, which meant when matched up against an expert like my brother, she’d always lose. I figured she would have found out by now from arguing with my dad that she needed to put up or shut up, but it also made her the sweetest in the family when everyone else hated each other, so hey, silver linings.
Darren was used to my brother’s nature, so he just kicked off his shoes and made his way to the couch. His shirt somehow looked both tight and baggy – how was that even possible? He pushed his blonde hair out of his face. “Move,” he told me, motioning towards my legs.
“Make me,” I replied, picking up my book for the first time today, not that he would know that.
Darren chuckled. “Brat,” he murmured to himself, then took my far leg and moved it off the couch, swinging me into a sitting position. He sat down next to me, and eyed the cover of my book. “Are you actually reading that, or just pretending?”
I gave him an incredulous look. “You think I’m just pretending to read?” I asked him.
“Nah, but I do think you’re reading Dune to read Dune,” he laughed. “Oh, look at me, I’m reading Dune in ninth grade, I’m so smart.”
“Not my fault if you couldn’t read it in ninth grade,” I told him indignantly. “I’m having a great time.”
He chuckled. “Okay,” he conceded, then hopped up and joined my brother as he made his way into the basement. Watching Darren leave, I grimaced and put the book back down, annoyed that he saw right through me. Everyone knew it was a sin to let older boys know how right or smart they were… especially twelfth graders. Seniors needed to feel as dumb as possible, to prep them for college. Or, in the case of boys, to ensure they didn’t feel like they could do whatever they wanted. That would be too dangerous.
My dad’s yelling took me out of my thoughts. “Yes, well- Yes, well you tell Tom- okay, yes! Monday, yes? I will expect it on Monday. …Then make it happen!” He hung up and dramatically slammed the phone back into its charging station. He sighed heavily, pacing around the kitchen. He was still dressed in his work suit, and despite the air conditioner still loudly humming away, he was sweating. “This will be the end of me…” he complained to himself, raking his hands over his face.
“Lawrence, dear,” my diplomatic mother called to the kitchen. “Would you like me to handle supper tonight?”
My dad paused, then abruptly moved his hands down to his sides. “No, no, it’s choma tonight and the last time you made choma, you didn’t do the, uh, uh, the uh…” He started snapping his fingers, trying to think of a word, then as dad often did when trying to explain things, gave up. “No. You didn’t make it right. I’ll do it, it’s fine.”
I smiled again as my parents’ perfect marriage laid itself bare in front of me. Mom wasn’t offended, and didn’t even flinch. “My hard-working hero,” she cooed. “I can at least help with the beans!” She turned to me. “Azania sweetheart, could you make sure your brother didn’t bring any snacks into the basement before supper?”
He did. He always did. “Sure,” I replied diligently yet annoyedly, making a big show of sighing as I got up. Mom gave me a sympathetic smile of thanks, which no doubt faded after I opened the door to the basement and began to walk down.
I took three steps then closed the door behind me, slowly and quietly. Like a lot of houses, our basement stairs curved around the side, which helpfully meant that as long as this was a stealth op, no one could see me coming. So, naturally, this was now a stealth op.
Even if my hair was big and loud, my body was helpfully lithe and flexible, meaning that if I wanted to sneak, your girl could sneak. I slunk down the stairs, and my eyes were greeted with exactly what they expected to see: my brother and his friend were playing Smash Brothers on his Switch; their favorite pastime throughout high school, and clear evidence that Khalil and Darren were content with the fact that they could only afford games from nearly a decade ago.
“Fuck…” my brother groaned, his shoulders hunched up. Even from the back, he looked locked in and furious. “Fuckin’ shit… shit!”
“Ooh-ooh-ooh!” Darren cockily taunted as he made his character pose over and over, while Khalil’s character struggled to remain on-screen and get back into the fray. Khalil had a pipe dream to play Smash Brothers professionally, and helpfully, Darren kept him in check. “Still say he’s the worst character?”
“He’s objectively the worst character, bro,” Khalil argued. “Literally every tier list puts Little Mac right on the bottom.”
“Really? Wow,” Darren replied, voice full of consideration. I heard him grin. “Must suck you’re losing so badly to him then.” I suppressed a giggle as I leaned up against the corner, wanting to snoop on their conversation but ready to go if I saw them so much as shift on the couch.
“Yeah, well it must suck that Alysia wants my dick and not yours,” Khalil snarled back.
Darren laughed. “Bro, I told you, I don’t want her. I dunno how many times I need to – ooh, boom goes that dynamite – I dunno how many times I need to tell you. I’m not interested in her. GG.”
Darren almost nonchalantly finished the match as he talked. Khalil threw his controller on the (luckily) plush carpet floor and dove his hand into a nearby bag of chips to drown his sorrows. “I swear there’s somethin’ going on,” Khalil observed. “I won’t tell bro, but like… come on. I seen you two. She be making some mad eyes at you.”
“Then she’s setting herself up for disappointment worse than you whenever you do a 1v1 with me,” Darren replied coolly. “Also, I can’t help but notice you literally just said she wants your cock and not mine.”
Khalil just chewed for a while. “Dick,” he corrected Darren after a bit. “‘Cock’ is weird.”
“Going back and forth on trying to set me up with your friend and insisting she wants you more, now that’s weird,” Darren replied. “I see everything, you know.” He turned his head to the chip bag to grab a handful.
Khalil could only chuckle. “That’s cheesy as fuck.”
“It’s true though,” Darren asserted. He paused for a second while reaching for the chips, and turned his head just a little further. My nerves lit up and screamed for me to move… a second too late. Before I knew it, Darren was making solid eye contact with me. He didn’t move further, and just stared openly at me. “I see everything,” he repeated.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Fuck… The last thing I wanted was to give him the upper hand. On… anything. When he saw me roll my eyes, Darren only grinned, yet… didn’t say anything to me. He turned back to the screen. “Hey, shouldn’t we put these away? Y’know, in case the brat comes downstairs.”
Khalil scoffed. “Yeah, maybe,” he conceded. As soon as the words left his lips, I felt my sixth sense activate. I wasn’t cool with either of them catching me, but Darren catching me was vastly preferred to Khalil catching me. I moved my body deftly, hiding myself behind the corner. I heard a beat of silence, then Khalil’s dry voice adding, “Nah.” I breathed a sigh of relief, silently thanking my luck. I breathed a few more times, filling my lungs with the musty basement air, before Khalil added, “Why, do you want her to come downstairs or something?”
My breathing abruptly stopped, caught in my throat. Consequences be damned, I turned back around to see the two of them. Darren clearly had the same idea, and turned his head, only ninety degrees to be subtle. He locked eyes with me and made that facial expression people make when they shrug. It was almost like we were sharing a joke. “What, first Alysia and now your own sister? Your girl radar needs some serious tuning.” He turned back, and they began their next match.
I didn’t breathe again for a little while.
***
I wasn’t what people might call an extrovert. The only thing I liked to make direct eye contact with was the floor as I passed between classes. My books clung to my chest for dear life, cemented in place by my arms with the force and rigidity of rigor mortis. Sometimes, as a little treat, I liked to even tuck a stray hair behind my ear as I walked and suck in my lips as a nervous gesture. You know, to complete the picture.
At least today of all days I had a reason to be nervous. Not that I needed one – I knew how stupid and pathetic I must have looked from the outside – but it was still nice to relish the feeling. Today, two weeks into ninth grade, I got to start my first day of English. Why? I had no earthly idea; apparently someone in charge of my scheduling screwed up, so I needed to uproot my established social life in school and switch a few classes around. And hey, wish granted. It was easy to uproot my social life when I wasn’t making friends to begin with.
At least I got to take English earlier on than expected. According to my junior high guidance counselor, I had “a gift for the humanities,” even though it was pretty clear all I had was a sarcastic streak and a history of watching people on TV speak big words good. The only “gift to humanity” I could offer was that I was going to die someday. I’m no longer your problem, Humanity. You’re welcome.
Still, it was better than math. I hated math. I sucked at math. I was sure those two things weren’t connected, but yoinking me out of math class and yeeting me into English was a welcome disturbance in my life either way. The only problem was… the dreaded introduction.
You know what sucks about going to a new room in your school? You have to look up from the floor. Luckily for me I was still able to hug my books and tuck a stray hair behind my ear before walking up to my new homeroom and knocking timidly.
At the teacher’s desk sat the most plain-looking white guy I could have imagined. Well-combed dark hair, not-too-thick glasses, and a noticeable yet not prominent moustache all adorned his face. He had a medium build with a button-up shirt, to boot. If “boiled egg” was a person, it would have been this guy. “Uh, hello?” he asked expectantly.
Mgh. I wanted to leave. Betraying my base instincts, I dragged myself into the room and put my books down on a nearby desk before producing a piece of paper. “Um, I’m the, uh, new student…” I trailed off, holding the piece of paper in front of him.
He gingerly took the paper and read it over. “Ah, I see,” he commented. “Well, welcome to English! My name’s Mr. Jefferson, and I’m the teacher, of course. You can take a seat right around, let’s see…” He half-stood at the desk to survey the desks, then pointed at a desk around the middle of the room. “Ah! See that desk right there? The one without anyone sitting at it?” He laughed even though he didn’t say a joke. This guy definitely loved fishing on the wee
kends, and was used to saying, “just gonna squeeze past you” at the grocery store. I could just tell. “You can go ahead and sit right there.”
I just nodded, grabbed my books, and rushed to take my seat. I could feel a hundred eyes on me, even if the class had maybe twenty or so students. I just sat down and squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the class to start.
“Ooooo-kay!” Mr. Jefferson called. “Alrighty everyone, let’s settle down and get right into it!” He smiled as the last few students found their seats and quieted down. “Now, before we begin, I believe we have a new student in class, is that right?”
Fuck. All eyes turned to me as if I was some kind of zoo exhibit. Mr. Jefferson grabbed the piece of paper and continued. “Now I want everyone to give a warm welcome to… Azania, uh…” He squinted. “Muh-wanjee!”
“Mwangi,” I corrected him with a shaky voice just above a whisper. Around me, students gave awkward “hello”s, and one confident kid went, “Yo what’s up?” to a few giggles.
“Now I want you all to make Ms. Muh-wanjee feel right at home here, okay?” Mr. Gef-ferson continued. He nodded at the class, and turned to the whiteboard, writing down something about today’s lesson. With his back turned, the students felt comfortable greeting me and… examining me.
“Oh my God, I love your hair!” one white blond girl sitting to my left told me. I turned to view her and politely smiled as best as I could. She returned my smile and continued to look it over. “How did you even manage to get it like this? I’m so jealous~!” she continued, reaching forward and grabbing a lock of my hair, feeling it all over.
“Uh-” I barely managed to emit.
“Sarah!” a girly voice to my right admonished her. Sarah let go and I turned to the other side to see a serious-looking girl with black hair and some kind of makeup on. “Don’t do that. It’s not cool to just touch a black girl’s hair.”
I cleared my throat nervously. “I’m, uh, not black, I’m… m-mixed,” I told her quietly.
The girl looked from side to side. “Um, okay,” she replied defiantly. “I was trying to help you, you know.”
I turned back to my desk. I didn’t really have anything left to say to her. I didn’t have anything left to say until the bell rang. I just sat there like a good little student and took notes as best as I could. I didn’t even usually take notes – which may have explained why I was still bad at the subjects I didn’t get – but go figure, today I was feeling nervous and wanted to keep my hands busy so they wouldn’t instead focus on strangling someone or something.
When the bell rang, I was easily the first one to stand up. I wanted out of this place like it was setting fire to my skin. I grabbed my books, hugged them closer to my chest than any human being in my life has gotten, and started to bolt out of the room.
Sadly, the universe had other plans. “Oh, uh, Azania!” Mr. Jefferson called out, both urgently and like he just had the thought right there and then. “And… yes, James. If I could just talk to you two for a second, it won’t take long.”
I held my gaze across the room, scanning it for someone who might look like they would be named James to hesitate. One boy did – he had a serious face, black scruffy hair, and a baggy hoodie on. He looked briefly at me with a pair of steely eyes, donned a confused face and headed over to the teacher’s desk. “What?”
“First of all, ‘what’ isn’t as polite as ‘yes,’ James,” Mr. Jefferson pointed out, then gestured to me. “You’ve been keeping up well in this class, so I was wondering if you could tutor Azania here and catch her up with the rest of the class.”
James and I side-eyed each other at the same time. Whatever ‘impressed’ looked like, James did not look like it. He turned back to Mr. Jefferson. “So what, we’re just going to go off in another room during class together?”
Mr. Jefferson smiled diplomatically. “Oh, definitely not,” he replied humorously. “Then you’d need catching up too! No, I was just thinking you two could find some time on your… own…” The cogs turned in his head, and he turned to me. “Of course, maybe if you’d feel more comfortable with a female student from the class-”
James turned to me and his look softened. “I won’t touch your hair,” he said to me as a joke. It actually wasn’t bad. Despite my nervousness, I cracked a smile, even as my cheeks reddened. James seemed to take this as a confirmation and turned back to Mr. Jefferson. “It’s cool, I can do it if she’s alright with it. We’ll find a lunch period or something.”
I didn’t say anything, so Mr. Jefferson spoke up. “Would you be okay with this, Azania?”
I nodded, then realized I’d look too stereotypically shy if I didn’t say at least something. “Uh, sure,” I mumbled, then cleared my throat afterwards. “Nice to meet you, James.” I didn’t bother extending a hand. I couldn’t.
“Nice to meet you,” James replied, nodding in acknowledgement.
“Well then, that’s settled. Now, if you have class to go to…” Mr. Jefferson said with a smile, gesturing towards the door. His hand movement created a waft in the air that smelled like hand sanitizer. James and I looked at him, then each other, then walked out of his classroom, with James of course going first.
“Oh, Azania!” Mr. Jefferson called from inside the classroom. I winced, then turned around to see him standing there in his beige jeans. “Your new homeroom locker number is 342. I’m sure you remembered to clean out your old locker, but if not, just get to it when you can, if that’s alright. Thank you for your patience, have a great day!” He waved. Like, he actually waved to me.
“Okay,” I called back half-heartedly, then turned back around and jumped. James was still standing there, and I nearly knocked into him as I tried bolting out of there. I gasped and breathed in as I stopped myself from full-on running into him.
“Sorry!” he instinctively said, and stepped back. “Sorry,” he repeated. “I, uh, just wanted to say I’m sorry for how Pearl… what she said.”
I hugged my books closer to my chest and shifted in place. I didn’t even know who Pearl was. “Oh, thanks,” I mumbled.
“Oh, right. You don’t even know who Pearl is,” he replied, and scratched his head. “She’s, uh, my twin. Most of the time I don’t even need to explain it. We both look-”
“Look alike, yeah,” I finished, breathing in and wanting to get out of this conversation, albeit for an entirely different reason than with Mr. Jefferson.
“She said the thing about you being black and not mi-”
“I know,” I interrupted with a soft voice. He held his gaze with me, and I felt like my soul was nakedly on display to him. I realized my mouth was hanging slightly open and coughed to cover it up. “It’s fine. I get it a lot. It’s just… whatever.”
“I mean, I’m not gonna claim I have a lot of black friends, I mean, look at me,” he rambled, chuckling at his own joke, “but I’m guessing it’s important to you for people to call you ‘mixed’ and not ‘black’?”
I nodded, squishing my books against my chest to prevent my chest from rising with my breath. This was like the longest I had ever talked to a boy classmate, ever.
“Okay. I’ll, um, remember that,” James replied, then looked off. “I’m at locker 338 by the way. I could, uh, show you to your locker… if you want.”
A nervous giggle escaped my lips. I was being offered to be taken on a walk? I felt like a fucking excited dog. “Okay, yeah,” I replied back a little breathlessly. A boy wanted to show me to my locker. This was cool. This was really cool. This was fucking cool. James was, like… intimidating. A good intimidating, like if your favorite actor walked up to you and asked if they could borrow a pen or something.
“Um, cool,” James replied, and gestured to the hallway. “Well, uh…”
He was just like me. Except cooler. Wow, and he was still doing all this for me, even though he clearly found this kinda weird. Did that mean something?
We started walking, and I looked straight ahead, not daring to look anywhere else with my nerves acting up like they were. Unfortunately, the universe was keen on keeping them aflame. “So, um, did you just move here?” James asked.
I paused. “Huh?”
“Oh like, you weren’t here for the first two weeks. I was just wondering if you just moved to-”
“Oh, no,” I replied. “I, uh… someone… um, someone screwed up, I guess. I mean, uh, I was in math class… and then I wasn’t. Because then I was in English. Well that’s not ‘because,’ I-” The warmth in my cheeks turned up to eleven. I was not smooth. I was the opposite of smooth…
…
…Unsmooth.
“Oh, like, they put you in the wrong class?” James asked without skipping a beat. “That must suck.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Should be fine though. English is good with m- like, I’m good with it. At it. It’s my best subject. English.”
It was like sneak-peeking what my personal hell looked like. Stop the world, I wanna get off.
“Oh, cool,” James replied with a nod. “I dunno what my best subject is. I never thought of things like that, but I know I haven’t been great a-”
As he spoke, his cell phone went off in his pocket, and his ringtone played. Wow, James was a bold boy to have his ringtone on during school. “POISONNNN,” his phone sang in some kind of hair metal-sounding gravelly voice, until he grabbed it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. “Shit, sorry, hang on,” he told me, hitting a button on his screen and putting it to his ear, still walking all the while. “Yo, you good? …Okay, cool. After school I can do it. Alright? Alright. Later.” He hung up and shrugged at me in apology.
“Wow, so popular,” I joked.
He chuckled. “Nah, that was just Pearl,” he explained. “She gets on my ass for the smallest things sometimes. She keeps wanting me to email her this thing… doesn’t matter.”
I was half-listening. “By the way, nice choice of ringtone,” I added, attempting some kind of smug knowing voice.
“Oh shit – uh, thanks!” he said with a cute smile. “I thought I was the only person in the school that liked Alice Cooper.”
Alice Cooper. Alice Cooper. Alice Cooper. Got it. “Oh, are you kidding? I love her too!”
“Him.”
“Him, I love him. Biggest fan.”
James chuckled, and paused. “You’re funny,” he finally said, and slowed his walk down, turning to the lockers. “Okay, so, uh… tada,” he continued, gesturing to the lockers, then pointed at a locker four down from his. “342, right?”
I looked at the locker, and immediately frowned. It had a big-ass dent in it, and looked noticeably grungier than the others. No wonder no one took that one. Mgh. “342,” I confirmed, opening the door anyway. At least they all looked the same on the inside.
“Cool,” he replied. “Anyway, uh, see you later. Y’know, in class.” He started to walk away, and my eyes flickered to watch him walk away, only for a moment.
Oh, cool. He didn’t even need to go to his locker. He just wanted to show me mine. Maybe he was being nice. Or maybe he… liked me? God, I was messed up. It was weird – James was intriguing, but I couldn’t help but feel like if he liked me, or God forbid, like liked me, he would be… less intriguing somehow. But also, I wanted him to like me. But I also didn’t.
Ugh. This was why I wasn’t an extrovert.
***
“Poisonnnnn…” Alice Cooper sang, coming through my laptop’s speakers. “You’re poison running through my veins~”
I sat on the edge of my bed, eyes closed, my head bobbing back and forth to the music. There was so much power in this music. There was so much passion. I wasn’t even sure if I liked the music, but… it was new. Even if it came from like thirty years ago, it still felt so new. I wanted more.
It was maybe the seventh time in a row I let the song play on repeat. I liked to listen to new songs I liked over and over, just so I could properly feel it. Some people didn’t understand that, but those people could suck a rock and move across the state for all I cared. Music is all about what you feel, and I kept feeling after the first listen.
“Azania!” Khalil barked, pushing my door further open from the crack I left. “Either put some headphones on or listen to something else!”
Ah yes, the ambassador for people who could suck a rock and move across the state: Khalil. “I can do what I want, go away,” I barked back, sending him away with an expression that made him look like Sinnataggen. Philistine – I bet he didn’t even know what Sinnataggen was. Khalil was the poster child for “I don’t understand this and I don’t want to,” and people like that didn’t need to be listened to.
Unfortunately, when you win a battle against infantry, they send in the cavalry. Not even a full run-through of the song later, the music abruptly stopped. My eyes shot open to see none other than Darren, with his middle finger retreating from hitting the space bar. He locked eyes with me and smiled defiantly. “Oops.”
“Get out of my room,” I told him grumpily, hopping up and moving to the computer.
“I wouldn’t need to be in your room if you just honored your big brother’s humble demand,” he pointed out, smugness tinting his voice.
“If it was humble, it wouldn’t be a demand,” I replied with an annoyed tone, checking to make sure he only hit the space bar and didn’t do anything else while my eyes were closed.
Darren only chuckled. “You’re such a kid,” he accused me, beginning to walk out.
Motherfucker. “I am not a fucking kid!” I nearly yelled, no longer caring about my computer. My arms shot forward, trying to push him out of my room.
“Is that right?” he challenged me, turning around and standing in place, fighting against my arms. He succeeded against me once he planted his legs, but still raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry, alright? You’re not a kid.”
I stopped. Darren was a lot of things, but never the type to just give up. I rarely, if ever, heard him say “sorry” to anyone, in the years he’d been coming over. I didn’t even know what to say. “…Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he simply repeated, and looked at my laptop screen, smiling again. “Doesn’t seem like your kind of music is all, Azania. It surprised me.”
I paused, but composed myself and scoffed. “I didn’t realize you knew my type of music.”
He chuckled. “Well, Khalil has a point, you seem to be allergic to airpods.” His gaze remained on the screen and his eyes narrowed. “Who’s the boy?”
My heart skipped a beat. Oh wow, being seen. I hated that. “What?”
“What?” he imitated me, then chuckled again. “You’re not smooth. Some boy was listening to this at school, right?”
I paused. My heart was beating annoyingly fast for such a mundane question. The moment almost felt surreal. Darren had me completely figured out – and someone else called out that I was listening to the song because of James. It was like even just saying that made it real. “…So what?”
“There we go, thank you,” Darren acknowledged, his smile widening. “S-”
“Ayo,” Khalil called out, appearing behind Darren. “What’s going on?”
Darren didn’t even look at Khalil when he heard him, and just paused. “Nothin’,” he finally said. “I got the brat to turn the music down a little.”
Khalil shot me an annoyed look. Of course, being the oblivious dolt he was, he didn’t notice my cheeks burning crimson. “C’mon,” he ordered Darren, clapping a hand onto his shoulder assertively before removing it and walking off. Darren stayed put, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe. He waited until I finally got the courage to look him in the eye again, and moved his eyebrows up and down before suavely sauntering off to join Khalil.
Like a spell was broken, I only breathed normally as soon as Darren was gone. Fuck, Darren really just had to be so fucking smug, so fucking stubborn, so fucking… Ugh. I closed my eyes, but instead of listening to music, I was trying to not listen to something else – the voice in my head telling me to do it. No. No, I was strong. I was stronggggg…
Nope, I was weak. With a huff, I accepted my fate and quietly closed my door, then looked at my laptop again. Yup, this song would do the trick, even with the volume lowered. It weirdly felt like I was betraying James by doing this – putting on his song given what I was about to do – but I was weak. Sue me.
I put the song back on, then hopped on my bed, reclosing my eyes. I breathed in and out, replaying the conversation that just happened. The way Darren just stared at me. The smug expression. The hypnotic voice. The way his arms involuntarily flexed when he folded his arms, just staring at me, knowing I was caught listening to a piece of music because of a dumb boy…
…Fuck, Darren, if only you knew. I would never speak to James again if you asked me to.
When my hand slipped under my waistband, my mouth opened on its own. Fuck, I used to rarely do this, especially when people were awake… it was happening more and more. I was getting worse. A part of me hated that, but a part of me really fucking liked it. I was getting worse. I was letting myself get worse for Darren, and he didn’t even know, the smug fucker.
My fingers found my clit and gave it a very intimate hello, and my hips started to rock in welcome agreement. My eyelids fluttered on their own, and safe in the warm embrace of the music, I let a little moan slip. Fuck… Darren…
I could feel my tongue starting to hang out of my mouth when my fingers found their way inside me. Only two fingers, of course… I was still small… easily handled. Mgh, another moan. I started pumping my fingers slowly, just letting my tongue hang. I loved the way my body took over for me like that. Having my tongue out and my eyelids lowering made me feel like this needy dumb slut, and a part of me really fucking liked it. When I was at my most rational, I would have these tame fantasies of dominating a boy and making him please me, but when I got weak, I just wanted to be dumb and slutty. I wanted to get even worse. I wanted…
I wanted Darren to make me worse. Fuck, just imagining Darren leaning down on this bed next to me, chuckling as he looked me in the eyes, his fingers slowly going in and out of me, picking up pace. “Wow, Azania,” his voice told me in my imagination. “You’re even dumber for cock than I thought.”
I was so dumb for cock. His cock, at least. Fuck other boys. I just wanted Darren. I wanted to be his. I loved him. I just knew it. Darren was my one and only. He could own me. He could do whatever he wanted with me. My imagination quickly changed to him leaning overtop of me, lining his cock up with my wet little pussy. He’d just look at it, then back into my eyes, and chuckle. He wouldn’t ask for consent. He was Darren. He’d just push in, claiming me without even asking.
My eyes rolled into the back of my head, and my back arched as I moaned just loud enough to make myself grateful I put music on. “Fuuuuck… hah… mgh…” I sounded like a dumb animal. A part of me wished Darren heard me, and just, like, kept it to himself. More fuel to use against me later. He could tame this brat fucking any day. Maybe I should make it more obvious. Once he knew how badly I wanted him, he might…
My back straightened, then subsequently hit the bed. Ah, post-nut clarity, my beloved. I froze, then blinked a few times, then sighed, half in contentment, half in resignation. Okay, all better. I was strong again. Gingerly, I looked down at my sheets to check the damage… Honestly, not too much of a mess. I could probably get away with not changing the sheets like last time. That was a bit of a win… though clearly I was losing the war to my own horniness. I seriously needed to invest in some war bonds or something.
Carefully, I cleaned myself up and re-dressed, ready to rejoin the real world. I hopped off the bed, stretching slightly before hitting pause on my laptop to stop the music – with my middle finger. Just like Darren did. It was cool. As soon as I paused the song, a big powerful knock hit my door.
I jumped like a kitten in a TikTok. Jesus, that was close… “What?”
“Open up,” Darren’s voice commanded gently, muffled by the door.
Again? I stared at the door for a bit before opening it. Darren was staring at me, arms folded. “I won’t play the music anymore, I’m sorry…” I huffed in annoyance.
“Nah, I’m not here for that,” he clarified, shifting in place. His arms unfolded and his hands played with each other nervously. “I just wanted to, uh, apologize.”
Wuh…?
“Well like, I was being kinda intrusive, and y’know, I didn’t need to just go in there like I knew what I was talking about,” he elaborated. “You got a right to your life and privacy and all that, right?”
“Um…” I didn’t even know what to say. Odds were, blurting out ‘nah, be as invasive as you want. In fact, be more invasive,’ wasn’t going to exactly land me a bullseye here. “Whatever. We’ve said worse to each other.”
“Yeah, but I’ve been getting on that power trip shit recently,” he rebutted. “I don’t like it. It’s not me.”
It was my turn to fold my arms. “You sure it’s not?” I teased him, trying to adopt a knowing tone.
He chuckled, but if anything, looked more uncomfortable. “Well if it was, I wanna turn over a new leaf. I wanna be a better example for you, going forward.”
Lame. “Admirable.”
“Anyway, you probably got stuff to do, so, uh…” He shifted, and practically leaned into a walk away from my room. “Later.” He didn’t even wait for me to reply as he walked away. Frankly, I didn’t even know what to say. My only reply was my lower left eyelid rising in confusion.
What the hell was that…? It sure wasn’t Darren, whatever it was. God, I almost felt further embarrassment if that’s the boy I was just fingering myself to. Where was the smug jerk? Give him my regards, Darren – and let me know when he’s coming back. I miss him already.
I didn’t even wait for him to walk fully back into my brother’s room before following him. When the door closed, I went right to work, stealthily lowering my ear to the crack underneath Khalil’s bedroom door. His door was built shittily with a bigger crack, so it was easier to hear there – voice of experience. I closed my eyes and heard the springs creak from Darren sitting down on my brother’s bed.
“There you go,” Darren told him, in his signature cocky voice. Heavens above, it was back – and it was wasted on Khalil.
“Did you actually say you were sorry?” Khalil asked him.
“Clear as day. I think I said something like, ‘I’m here to apologize.’ Honestly, bro, I think you’re making a big deal out of nothing here. For God’s sake, she was literally talking about how she was listening to the music because of a boy.”
“And was the boy you?” Khalil asked… accusingly?
“Yeah, no,” Darren replied, dismissively and angrily. “I think you’re wrong, bro. She does not have a crush on me. And as I told you, multiple times, I don’t have a crush on her.”
“You still been acting weird around her,” Khalil replied. “Every time I turn around, you be like, talking to her and shit.”
“Yeah, I like talking to her,” Darren replied as if it’s obvious. Fuck… I bit my lip, even despite having my head against the ground. He just said that, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Too much,” Khalil replied. “Just cool off for a while. For me.”
“Whatever you say, man,” Darren chuckled. “I don’t go for freshmen girls anyway. If she’s listening to music because of another boy, I don’t think it’s me you gotta worry about anyway. Some boy has her wrapped around his finger.”
I heard the sound of something being thrown, followed by Darren giving his signature cocky chuckle. “Just shut up,” Khalil barked. “Don’t say that shit, even ironically.”
The two quickly moved onto another topic – my cue to skedaddle. I walked back to my room, waiting until I was inside and my door was shut to exhale.
It was weird… I wasn’t even upset to hear Darren literally say he didn’t have a crush on me. The part about not going for freshmen stung more… I couldn’t exactly change that. Maybe I needed to act more mature around him…? Whatever. I wasn’t even going to pretend to be shocked that my meathead brother was playing up the protective older bro act, though it was shocking he was doing it to his own friend.
I walked over to my bed and flopped down onto it, face-first. I frowned into the pillow as my left hand immediately settled into a wet spot. Grooooss… Even still, my hand didn’t move. None of my body did. I liked chaos, but this wasn’t it. I needed… serene chaos.
***
“Woah…” Pearl cooed in admiration as she looked over my test. “But, like, you’ve been in this class for, like, three days!”
My cheeks burned. I wasn’t blowing smoke – I was great at English. Put me in a room with a pen and paper, and I could make fireworks out of ‘em. Apparently, Gef-ferson (who, if I wasn’t being obvious about it, still refused how to pronounce Mwangi properly) wasn’t an easy marker, but hey, I still earned my hundred. The mythical A plus. Still, it was earning me a lot of unwanted attention.
“Hey, James!” Pearl called to her brother, snatching my test off my desk. I nearly yelped in shock as she just took the test, as if she had my full permission. I shot a nervous look at Sarah, the blonde girl, and luckily, she took over.
“Pearl,” she gently told her friend. Pearl didn’t reply, and was too busy showing off my test to James. When it became clear Sarah wasn’t being heard, she looked at me and shrugged in apology. I gave a small, shy, pathetic little smile in response.
“-really impressive, yeah,” I heard James say, before Pearl whipped back around and the test landed back on my desk. It now had an annoying little crease in it. God, I hated this little uppity white girl. I dunno how she managed to come across as more annoying than the girl that literally touched my hair on day one, but hey, what can I say, Pearl was clearly some kind of talented.
When the bell rang, most of the students got up immediately. Pearl and Sarah, despite sitting on either side of my desk, just got up together and started chatting, as if the space between them didn’t exist. It was its own nice kind of chaos, but… it was still weird. I wanted something different.
I squeezed my eyes shut in annoyance. I wanted Darren.
“Hey,” a voice called out. “Hey, Azania.”
I opened one eye, then both, to see James standing over my locker. He was… clutching his books close to his chest. Like I do. “I was just, uh, wondering… wanna walk back to our lockers together?”
I swallowed, looking up at him. Why did this feel like danger? Why did I feel like I had to say something immediately? “Uh, um, no th- no thanks,” I stuttered.
“Oh. Uh, yeah, of course, sorry,” James replied, nodding all the way. “Cool, yeah.”
“S-s-” …
…
…Sorry.
He left before I had the chance to say it. I was the only one left in the class, besides Mr. Gef-ferson. When James fully left, my eyes squeezed shut again, and I couldn’t help but let out a groan of frustration.
“Woah now!” Mr. Gef-ferson remarked humorously. “Normally, I get that kind of reaction from people who didn’t get a perfect on their tests.”
God, he was such an undressed salad of a man. “Um… I-I-”
He chuckled. “No no, it’s all good,” he added, before the humor was wiped off his face. “Unless… is everything okay?”
“Um, y-yeah, everything is fine, thanks,” I sputtered. I chuckled nervously and quickly stood up, grabbing my things and beginning to powerwalk out of the class.
“If you’re having trouble transitioning into the class smoothly…” he continued.
Bro had never done anything smoothly in his life. “I’m all good, thank you!” I tossed behind me peppily, continuing to make my way the fuck outta his classroom. Luckily, he didn’t pipe up again.
It wasn’t like James was asking me out. Why did I say no? Fuck, he was supposed to tutor me. He was probably going to ask me when we were going to make time for-
No. Wait. Strike that, reverse it. I just got a perfect mark on the test. And he saw it directly – Pearl saw to that. And he asked me to walk back to his locker with him regardless. Maybe… maybe he was trying to do something. Maybe he was going to… ask me out or something. Oh my God, could you imagine? Maybe it was good I said no. I walked as fast as I could without jogging, trying to outrun my thoughts. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize that walking as fast as I could nearly ensured I would see a certain someone at my locker.
I blushed a deep crimson when I saw James’ back. I breathed in and out a few times, then steeled myself and walked forwards, making my way to my locker. I didn’t dare look to my right, but I knew he was there. James and his cool music. James and his black, shaggy hair.
I just opened my locker and got my things, only daring to look towards my right once I closed my locker again. When I did, I saw… nothing. I exhaled, letting my forehead hit the locker.
Then, slowly… I began to laugh.
Sweet chaos. The noise of my fellow students rushing behind me comforted me, as I marveled at what I had gotten myself into. This felt like the most monumental thing in the world. I… liked it, in a weird way. I felt almost… unsafe around James, but, like, in a safe way. Maybe a boy liked me. Maybe a boy liked me.
I knew I wanted Darren, but I also knew that Darren didn’t want me back… and I was mature. I could accept that. I got pretty clear firsthand evidence that Darren wasn’t into me, and even then, Khalil would never accept it. What could I do in the meantime?
Listen to Alice Cooper a few more times, see how I felt? It would be a good start.
***
History was basically English, except it was all stories, and they were mostly true. Some history stories weren’t true at all, but hey, who hasn’t lied before to avoid looking guilty? And a lot of white guys had a lot to lie about when it came to the history of a country like ours. But some white guys were better than others.
“Okay, thank you, Mister President, for all of your work outlining the equality of men,” Mr. Anton ranted to an invisible Thomas Jefferson, “but we still have to remember how you didn’t apply that when it came to your slaves!”
Mr. Anton, my history teacher, was one of the better ones. It was like he could see straight through the lies of history, like he was talking directly to the liars. Plus, he was nuts. I liked it. I couldn’t help but emit a giggle every so often when he spoke, even though it caused a few of the more annoying students to look at me. Sorry for being human?
Mr. Anton sighed, and dropped his arms, which he previously whirled around as he talked. “When we look at history, it doesn’t do us any favors to look at anybody as perfect. Jefferson, Washington, FDR, Obama, Ghandi, Luther King, Mister Rogers!”
“Trump?” one of the jokesters of the class offered, and the class quietly laughed. Mr. Anton gave the jokester a ‘don’t even go there’ smile.
In a weird way, it got me thinking. Nobody was perfect. That kinda… that kinda meant I didn’t have to be. Maybe my stupid feelings about Darren were okay to have. Maybe it was okay to feel unsure about James. Maybe I didn’t have to be a certain person or behave a certain way for him. After all, he wasn’t being a creep. It wasn’t like he was following me everywhere I-
A knock at the door made us all look at the doorway to the left like we were watching a tennis match. And you’d never guess who was at the door.
“Hey,” James began awkwardly, a slip of paper in his hands, his black shaggy hair covering one of his eyes. He moved his head to the side to move his hair out of his way. “Um, I was told to come here. I just dropped my last-period class, so uh…”
Mr. Anton didn’t hide his look of concern. “Oh, yes, uh, James, correct?” he asked, snatching the paper out of James’ hands. “You picked the last possible day to transfer. You have quite a lot of catching up to do, you know.”
“Yeah, I’ll do my, uh, best, to-” James’ words caught in his throat as he locked eyes with me. His mouth remained open for just a second, and when he broke eye contact, he looked again at Mr. Anton, and he was… blushing slightly. “Uh, of course, I don’t, like, have to be in this class, if you don’t want…” he murmured.
“What are you talking about? The office told you to come here. I was already told about this,” Mr. Anton replied, not hiding how absurd he found that statement. “Come in. There’s only one desk available, and it’s riiiight…” His eyes scanned the room.
It was the fucking. Desk. In front of. Mine. If I was allergic to coincidences, I think I might have died by now.
“Ah, there it is,” Anton continued, pointing to it. “I’m in the middle of a lesson so, don’t dawdle. I can catch you up after class, but not during.”
James awkwardly made his way over to the desk in front of mine, his blush only deepening. I might have smiled, except… his look only got more… guilty when he approached me. He put his bag down, put a hand on top of the desk chair, and inhaled like he was about to do something brave. “Sorry,” he whispered, looking me in the eyes again, before sitting down and slouching at his desk.
Sorry…?
“Now, as I was saying,” Mr. Anton continued, pacing back and forth at the front of the room. “By 1800, Louisiana was in the hands of the French settlers. Before that, it belonged to the Spanish, but was ceded to the French after…”
Sorry. He was feeling bad for asking me to walk to his locker with him. I had no clue the one human being more shy than me lived in the same neighborhood. And yet, he was so… casual with Mr. Jefferson (the boiled egg of a teacher, not the President) when I first met him. Kind of like I was… with Mr. Anton…
I don’t think conscious thoughts swirled around in my head. I think they were just feelings. All I knew was, by the end of class, most of the class – if they actually paid attention – had learned about the Louisiana Purchase. I had learned that maybe, just maybe, chaos was something you could make for yourself, and not just wait to happen to you. Once the bell rang, sure enough, Mr. Anton called out, “Now, don’t forget that your essays are due in three days! And, uh, James, could I please talk to you?”
A few “ooh”s from clueless class jokers filled the room, but James didn’t react. He just got up and went to Mr. Anton’s desk, and bless Mr. Anton – the guy had no volume control, so I heard every word.
“Okay, so, I’m going to level with you – you missed a lot, and I’m not really the kind fo guy that likes giving extensions or exceptions, because if you give them to one student, others ask why they can’t get them too,” Mr. Anton told him. I stood up and got my bag. “So, I think your best course of action would probably be peer tutoring.” I put my book in my bag. “I don’t really know who would be willing to give up their time to do that though, so…” I began to walk to the desk. “Do you maybe have any friends in the class you could ask?”
“He has at least one.” My heart raced. Holy shit. This was a rush. Sweet, sweet chaos. James looked at me, clear confusion on his face. Mr. Anton, on the other hand, gave a big dumb open-mouth smile.
“Ah, Azania!” he marveled. “Yes, Azania here has excellent grades. If you two know each other, and she’s offering to give you her time…”
James’ blush was still evident. He looked at me with his guilt-stricken face, and just murmured, “uh, you sure?”
Wow. I did a number on him by refusing to walk to his locker with him. Still, the adrenaline was surging through me. This was… fun. I shrugged. “You didn’t touch my hair,” I replied, thanking my lucky stars I didn’t stutter and flub the line. James chuckled, the smile remaining on his face.
“Weird reasoning, but I’ll accept it,” Mr. Anton replied. “James, does this work for you?”
“Uh… totally. I mean, yeah,” he replied, moving his hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, it works.”
“Great! I’ll make a note to myself,” Mr. Anton replied, grabbing a piece of paper. “Azania… Mwangi… will be tutoring… James Millwater.” He smiled at the paper, then at us. “Wonderful!”
I smiled back at Mr. Anton. “You got the last name right,” I complimented him.
“Mwangi? Of course I did. Kenyan, right?” he asked.
It was more than just Kenya, but I wasn’t about to spoil his fun. He was definitely invited to the cookout. History teachers were so cool. In response, I offered a fist to bump, and Mr. Anton stared at the fist for a second, before chuckling and bumping it. “Would you believe you’re the first student that offered that to me?” he joked.
“You deserve more,” I replied warmly. He smiled and nodded in appreciation, before going back to his papers. I turned to James. “So, need my help catching up?”
James chuckled nervously. “Uh…” he managed.
My own adrenaline faded, and I chuckled back nervously. The two of us stared at each other, waiting for the other to speak, until the silence went from tense to just awkward.
“Alright, you two,” Mr. Anton cut in. “Unless you need anything else from me, I have somewhere to be. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to continue this conversation in the hallway.”
Yeah, if it would even continue at all. I was having so much fun I forgot who I was for a second. Wordlessly, the two of us exited the room and, with nothing else to do, started to walk back to our lockers.
“I guess you got me to, uh, t-to walk back with your locker – walk back with you to your locker after all,” I broke the ice.
“I’m so sorry about that,” he immediately replied.
“Why?”
“Because you said no?” he replied as if it were obvious. “And, I’m not, like, f-following you to your classes, I – I genuinely dropped music, like, it wasn’t fun at all, and I mean…”
“Nah, I mean…” I cut in. “I just said no, because, like, I had a lot on my mind, and… I know you just wanted to talk to me about helping me with English.”
“Yeah, and how the tables have t-turned,” he laughed, and locked eyes with some boy walking past. “Oh hey dude.”
The boy waved and kept walking. For my part, I just shrugged. “Well, I didn’t need the help with English. Do you actually need the help with history?”
“Oh no, I – yeah. Genuinely, yeah. I suck at history. Sorry, I didn’t think you offered as a joke or whatever,” James immediately replied, as we approached our lockers.
“Oh, it’s okay, I – I didn’t,” I replied, trying to sound as smooth as possible. I was so used to talking to friends, or Khalil, or dad, or even Darren. It was always people that just presumed they knew shit. It was never people who apologized for nothing. How absolutely… chaotic. “You’re, um… I don’t mean this weirdly or whatever, but you’re s-sweet to apologize though.”
James immediately emitted some kind of chuckle, like he let out some bundle of nerves buried deep inside him. “You know, you are the first person to tell me that?” he asked. “Everyone always goes, ‘why did you apologize’ and shit.”
“You apologized because you were worried if I took it the wrong way,” I couldn’t stop myself from saying. It was too obvious to not say in response to something so silly.
“Exactly!” he replied, no longer even looking at his locker. “And I mean, I totally meant it as just, like, a friendly… I mean, yeah, you know,” he blabbered on.
I smiled. I didn’t even like James – like, like like – but my heart was beating faster. “I thought it was really nice that you said sorry when you went to my desk,” I added quietly. “I would have done the same thing.”
“Really?” James asked.
I couldn’t help laughing. “I feel bad too. You seemed more confident until I said that, and like, I only said it because I was-”
“Overthinking?” James asked.
I paused. Woah. He interrupted me, but it wasn’t because he thought he knew better than me. It was because… he knew what I was going to say. “Yeah, exactly,” I replied. We both stood in silence at our lockers for a bit, before I added, “I’m free tomorrow at lunch.”
“Me too.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah.”
“See you then?”
“Yeah.”
“Nice,” I said, coolly, closing my locker and swiftly hitting myself in the face with my locker door.
***
The front door swung open. “You’re wrong, bro,” Khalil huffed at Darren as the two entered the house. “Mom. Mom! What’s easier to care for, cats or dogs?” He walked off, trying to find her in the house.
Darren watched him walk off, same as I did. “Hey Azania,” he chuckled.
“Hey Darren,” I replied warmly, then looked at Khalil going up the stairs. “You two thinking of getting a pet?”
“Nah, but my mom is thinking about it,” he replied, walking to the couch. “Move.”
“Make me,” I replied, content to lie across the couch reading my book.
Darren sighed and moved my legs again, sitting down beside me. “Back to Dune, huh?”
“Back to Dune,” I replied.
He leaned back, stretching his arms across the couch. Fuck, his arms were so defined. He wasn’t too built, but he was skinny enough that you could see allllll the definition on his arms. It was enough to make a girl delirious. “How’s stuff with Poison guy?”
My heart skipped a beat, but the poor thing would skip a beat at any mildly shocking thing that forced me to reply. “Um…” I began.
I didn’t say anything further for a bit, and finally looked up from my book to see Darren smiling expectantly at me. “If I’m allowed to ask,” he added smugly.
“Why do you care?” I tried to laugh, though my nervousness came through. “You never asked me about boys before.”
“You never had a crush on one before,” he rebutted. Oh, you sweet dumb hunk you. If only you knew… “I just thought I’d check in on you. Y’know, if you’re gonna go for a guy, I wanna make sure he’s… treating you right.”
“I listened to a song he liked. We’re not married,” I scoffed in reply, pretending to go back to my book.
“Riiiiight, and the fact you’re blushing like hell doesn’t mean aaaanything, huh?” Darren replied knowingly. Oh, you sweet dumb hunk you. If only you knew…
I didn’t say anything for a while, and eventually, my breathing became audible. I looked up the stairs – I could hear Khalil’s echoing voice as he argued with mom. I looked back at Darren. “It’s just us here,” he replied coolly.
I couldn’t help it. My eyes fluttered slightly and my throat emitted the smallest, slightest, but still definitely audible moan. Nightmare. Nightmare. I had to recover, at any cost. Do something. Now. “He’s a fucking dreamboat,” I instinctively told him, trying to carry on the energy from the little moan. It was the only thing I could think to do after fucking moaning in front of Darren.
Darren adopted a poker face, looking me in the eyes. “Yeah?” he finally asked, his tone flat as water. “Got any dates lined up?”
“N-no, but we’re st-studying at lunch,” I replied, feeling my entire face blushing. My eyes were nearly watering.
Darren chuckled, finally breaking eye contact and staring forward, moving his arms off the couch and clasping his hands together in front of him, nodding with a big dumb white boy smile. “Heh, yeah, that’s ninth grade shit for sure,” he admitted to himself, then turned back. “Well, hey. If you ever need any advice or anything like that… feel free to come talk to me. Y’know, without Khalil there. I’ve, y’know, been around once or twice. I could help ya out.”
“Uh, okay,” I replied, trying not to sound breathless. “Sounds good. Anyway, I should homework my finish – I should, uh -”
Nightmare. I got up and practically threw Dune back on the couch, sprinting up the steps. “Okay, so, bye?” Darren chuckled in a weirded-out tone behind me. I couldn’t even bother to reply. I ran into my room and, once inside, desperately pawed the door to close it. As soon as it was closed, I found the bed. I couldn’t even wait to power on my laptop to play music – I turned on my phone, played the first song I could find, and set the volume to max.
My hand was inside my pants within seconds. My touch felt like the first in years. I was fucking throbbing, and so needy that it actually felt like scratching a desperate itch. “Mgggh~” I moaned, my tongue falling outside of my mouth on its own. I was so stupid. I was so fucking stupid. Fuck James, I wanted Darren. I wanted him so badly. I was a dumb slut for Darren. I was always going to be Darren’s.
I definitely needed Darren’s advice. And I was definitely going to take it. But not for James. I moaned again as I thought about seducing Darren with his own advice… if I even needed to seduce him. God, the way he looked at me, the way he told me to come to him… the way he told me “without Khalil there.” I needed him. I needed Darren so badly. And no matter what, I was going to get him, so help me God. As much as my mind ordered itself and met resistance, when my body ordered my mind… it obeyed.
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