The Closer I Get to You

2

Nicki

Rihanna lays in my bed and I roll around my room in my desk chair.

She decided to stay over after we came home late from a football game.

We're in October and Beyoncé hasn't spoken a word to me. She makes the occasional grunt and clearing of the throat, but that's it. I don't understand if it's dislike and annoyance she has for me, but I haven't done a thing but transfer to this school. I'd rather be in a boarding school in the middle of the rural Midwest.

"Yo, Nika, chill." She sits up. "Sup cuzzo, what's wrong?"

"Just thinkin' bout school." I respond honestly.

She sits up and waves me over to my bed. I join her after another roll of my desk chair and lay on my side looking back at her. I gently move her faux locs pooling around her face.

"You got something due? Is it overwhelming? Any girls? Someone bullying you?"

I shake my head negatively.

"It's a girl but not in that way." I state.

"A friend? You got one?"

"Well it's Beyoncé." I cut to the chase.

Robyn rolls her eyes.

"She say somethin'?"

No, but I wish she did. I shake my head "no" again.

"So what?"

"She hasn't said anything to me."

"Cousin, that's how she is."

"Why?" It almost comes out in a pouty/whiny way.

Robyn sighs and shrugs, "She just is, Nika."

The answer isn't sufficient enough for me, and I know I'm not getting much more out of Robyn. She runs her mouth-- strategically.

I cross my arms and look around trying to figure something out myself without jumping to conclusions.

"Why you even care so much, Neeks." She asks as she arches her brows.

For some reason I begin to blush uncontrollably. Robyn's smile and eyes widen at the same time. It gives a joker-esque vibe to it that is genuinely scary.

There's nothing more to it, right? I just hate that Beyoncé hasn't addressed me.

Even Solana's shy ass has managed to keep small talk with me. I just don't understand and I want to.

"Nika, whatever with ha. Wanna watch something?" Robyn offers.

I nod but in my head this topic is still active and ongoing. Robyn searches for my remote, turns the TV and surfs through Hulu and Netflix for something to watch.

I simply stare into space and play with my bottom lip.

I swear we were just little girls dragging each other up and down corridors and singing at church. I refuse to believe I've lost that person.

I refuse to believe that Beyoncé has turn into a lip smacking, constantly angry person at just 18. My mind isn't allowing me to compute that.

I'm not sure if it's my upbringing that's causing me to be so concerned of her attitude and day to day lifestyle, but I'm stuck on this and have been.

I know this shouldn't be bothering me as much as it is.

Robyn looks to me and pokes me playfully.

"C'mon, Nika relax." Robyn gives me a slight shove.