Loving Jawayne

7 | 𝗗𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝗗𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝘀

It's hard, not being able to be with who you truly want to be with.

"Do you face-time often?" Jawayne asks me, sucking lightly on his swollen bottom lip. I've come to realize that it's a frequent habit of his. No wonder it's always so red and thick.

"No, not so often." I reply, anxiously pulling down the sleeves of my sweater. "I mean, I do but like only with...Chrissy."

"Oh. Cool." He reaches down. Some shuffling fill the line as he retrieves a medium bag of M&M's. He smiles and raises it, "Chocolate."

I chuckle, and he joins me as he shakes some of the sweet onto his tongue. I think I spot a tongue piercing, but I'm not sure. He chews them around and grins. "If you were here, I'd have offered you some, but you're not so..." He clicks his tongue, "bummer..."

I blush. Oh, God, I can't do this.

There was a time in my life where I felt like I was getting over Jawayne. The early summer of eighth grade. I started falling into fictional men inside the pages of books or on Tv. I was doing exceptionally great, really. That was until he moved right next to me that very summer. Almost like he was saying: what are you doing, girl? You can't get over me. Then, I was back at square one. Didn't help that he likes taking out his trash in just his pair of shorts. Further didn't help that he likes hanging out in his backyard pool in wet bottoms that showed the world everything. It gets hard, you know.

Chrissy never tells me about her and Jawayne having sex. Haha, sike. That's wishful thinking. She told me once, and then I somehow got her not to tell me ever, ever again. The words are engraved in my brain, though, like one of the many tattooed designing Jawayne's impressionable torso.

"Oh, Tianna. He does it soo good. And he's so sweet. He whispers sweet nothings in my ear the whole time..."

Sweet nothings for Chrissy, but painful somethings for me. So whenever she starts telling me how he'd touch her intimately, I'd scrunch my nose and be like: ewwww. When deep inside, my soul would be disintegrating and breaking apart like broken pottery.

And then it's suddenly so hot in my room, now. But it's not hot outside. It's just how I feel having him half-naked on camera like this. Anxiety and heat wave. That sorta stuff. I pop the dip of my hoodie, blowing my lips out.

Jawayne narrows his eyes, "hot?"

No. You are.

"A bit." I say.

"Take the hoodie off, then..." he offers, "you're torturing yourself."

And you're torturing me.

"Okay." I purse my lips and curve my fingers under the hem of my pull-over, hauling it over my head. Jawayne's very thick and red lips split across his glowing face, showing me white teeth and a smile so handsome, I can feel my heart and stomach pledging allegiance to serve me with a heavy dose of butterflies for life.

Now wearing my purple tank top, I smile and cross my shaking arms nervously. He's just staring at me, smiling and not saying anything. I shift awkwardly. "So have you heard from Chrissy?"

"Oh, damn. She just texted me. Thanks." He tells me, eyes widening, and then the camera shifts as he sits up in bed. His gold necklace tumbles down his shirtless chest, nestling between his chest plates. I get a glimpse of his toned legs, half-covered with a pair of navy blue basketball shorts. My teeth find the corner of my mouth as he puts his candy away, take his wired earphones up from his groin, and throws the chord around his neck. He sucks his top lip this time as he taps on his IPhone 14.