Wylan's Laws of Emotion

Chapter Eight- Wylan

She was right, my father had a "shoot first, ask questions later" philosophy when it came to his girls dealing with boys. Especially, if they were boys that he'd never met.

"This one is respectable though," I mumbled hoping he didn't hear that, but of course, he did. Of course, he heard that of all things.

"Oh really, the same one that you said you wished you didn't have to share the same air supply with. The same one who gave you so much grief your first year of high school that I contemplated running him over with my SUV? He's respectable, Wy? I'm not sure what he has said or done that could change your mind so quickly, but honey, you had better reevaluate your life with what little of your mind you have left. He's just as good as you, so don't think there's no ulterior motive living in the shadows."

He looked at me inquisitively, and I bit my lip. "Yes ma'am. I apologize again." I said hastily since she halted. I chuckled softly and Kwame raised an eyebrow.

"It's okay Wy, you need to be a teenager more often anyways, and I get that. I am going to give you some repercussions when you get home though. I just won't subject you to your father's wrath," she assured me and hung up.

"Nobody I know laughs in situations like that," Kwame observed as he took a seat beside me.

"Really," I asked, looking up at him with a frown.

"It's not a bad thing Wylan...just interesting."

"I never said that you perceived it as being a bad thing."

He raised an eyebrow, shifting his weight. "You frowned," he stated.

"I don't want to talk about that, Kwame."

"Oh, do you want to talk about how your mother planned on flattening me beneath her tires then?" he asked, grinning.

"You were a frequent topic during freshmen year." I shrugged. You were the only topic.

I couldn't wrap my head around the way he treated me. I wanted something to dislike him for, and I spent years trying to compete with him, trying to hate him. He was my rival, and he had made it clear to me that he had no intention of losing. The only problem with that picture was that we are both strong willed people who were working for the same output.

"Do you still have my number?" he asked unexpectedly.

I rubbed my thumb over my screen. Of course, I still have it. "I think I may actually, but I blocked you during sophomore year for my own reasons." I scrolled through my contacts as he looked over my shoulder.

"Really Wylan, the African A-Hole is my contact name?" he laughed as I shrugged.

"Who knows? I was probably just in my way; I do stuff like that sometimes."

Last time I wear heels to a party. I held out my hand waiting for him to hand me my phone again. When he handed it back I went into the spare closet and found some more comfortable shoes. Farah wouldn't mind, they were mine after all.

"Wow, I was that bad sophomore year?" he inferred, and I laughed.

"Were you?" He chuckled and I looked over at him, genuinely pondering his reasoning. "Oh, but you scrutinize my expressions, huh?" I folded my arms over my chest, giving him a playful glare.

"Hey Wylan, did I say anything tonight that was arrogant?"

I thought about it. "Yeah, you were a bit obnoxious when you were talking to me by the staircase," I admitted as I leaned against the wall.

"Okay, good," he said.

"Good? How is being an obnoxious jerk a good thing?" I asked him, grinning.