VOTE. COMMENT. ENJOY. FANGIRL.
The Feel of the Moment and Challenging Fate
Hamza Musa-Ali
Does it bother me that how popular I am is directly related to how hot I get? Yeah. It does. I hate school. I hate all the assholes and all the bitches that go around starting shit. I can’t stand many people, which is ironic considering how much popular I’ve gotten since freshman year.
Now don’t go mistaking me for some dude that keeps track of how popular he is. I’m not like that. But objectively speaking, I was ugly and unpopular freshman year. Junior year hit, I started growing, and guys like Krish and Omar started chilling with me more often, especially after I tried out for lacrosse and made the team.
Omar knew me from the mosque, so he’s been indifferent until last year. Krish and I were never friends until junior year either. It pisses me off when they see girls like Harmony and Carmen-Sofia talking to me and approaching me and that’s what makes them want to be friends with me. Contrary to popular belief, I am a fucking person. With feelings.
That’s why, no matter how much he pisses me off, Christian is still my best friend. I’ve known him since the end of sixth grade when I was new atCreekmooreMiddle School. We met during gym and we’ve been friends ever since.
Five days before the first day of school, I finally get Christian to hang out without Janessa around. She’s not that bad, but the way she’s changed Christian annoys me. Now it’s like all he does is hang out with her. If he’s not hanging out with her, he’s doing something indirectly related to her, like picking up her little brothers from karate lessons or whatever.
Today, we’re supposed to go to the skate park with the guys, somewhere we haven’t been in years. I’m supposed to be picking him up. As I’m about to leave the house, I get a call from Christian. “Yo,” I don’t even bother saying hello.
“Hey man, are you on your way?”
“Yeah, I’m leaving right now.”
“Ok. I’ll see you when I see you.” We hang up as I unlock the car. When I slide into the driver’s seat, I curse at how hot the seats are. Shit. Only Florida would be this hot.
It only takes me ten minutes to get to Christian’s house. The garage is open but there are no cars in the driveway. His parents are probably out. I go through the door from the garage. It’s unlocked, as usual. The door leads directly to the kitchen. There’s nobody in there, but the stove is on and something is cooking. It smells delicious.
“Hello, Hamza.” A female voice with a sexy Spanish accent makes its way to my ears. Two years ago this voice, that accent would have made me stuttering and flailing to not sound like a dumbass. But this time, it does nothing for me.
“Hey! Alicia. When’d you get here?!” I turn and smile at the girl who had me wrapped around her finger since I met her freshman year.
“Two days ago. Christian did not tell you?” The words roll off her tongue like warm honey. Her voice is as feminine yet sexy as ever, but this time…nothing. My heart is still inside my chest, dormant, like a volcano that doesn’t even bother to erupt. What the hell?
“No, he didn’t mention it. What are you making?” I head over to the stove to see but she slaps my arm lightly and holds me back.
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The Art of Breaking Her
RomanceHamza's complementary perspective to Battered, With Love.
