Love Is Not Just A Verb (A Kendrick Lamar Story)

Chapter 1

Tuesday, October 15, 2002

Kendrick's POV

    *Bell rings for Lunch* Thank God! I thought. I grabbed my things and made my way out the school building.

    I went over to the beautiful Cherry Blossom tree in the courtyard. Everyday, I go and sit there to write my poems. It's just so peaceful and wonderful under that tree. It really inspires my writing. I don't know how, but it does.

    I sat there alone finishing a poem called No Makeup, then putting verses together to create a song. I don't sing, though. I rap.

    "Hey, can I sit with you?"

    I looked up and saw an amazingly stunning young lady. Medium dark skin, long curly hair, gorgeous brown eyes. She was thick, too. She ain't even look like a hoe, which is kind of rare. I liked that about her, though.

    "Umm, yeah! Yeah. You can si... yeah." I acted like a fool. I'm usually not this intimidated by fine ass women. But this one was different.

    She laughed and sat down beside me. "Thanks," she said. "Whatchu doin'?"

    "Writing," I replied.

    "Writing what?"

    "Damn! Can you mind yo' own got damn business?!"

    "Well, dang. I was just trying to make a conversation. The hell is your problem?!" She got up and was about to walk away.

    I shot right up and grabbed her arm. "Look, I'm sorry. I ain't mean to come at you like that." I tried to look sorry. I kinda wanted her to stay.

    She looked at my hand on her arm, then into my eyes. "It's cool." I smiled a little, let go of her arm and we both sat back down.

    "I'm Kendrick," I said.

    "(Your Name)," she said. "Nice to meet you." Her smile nearly blinded me. It was so... amazing. She had the type of smile that'll make you smile back, no matter how much you didn't want to.

    Yn, I thought. That's a dope ass name. "Nice to meet you, too."

    "I still wanna know whatchu writin', doe."

    Nigga, for real? I thought. I gave her a bewildered look then looked back at my notepad. "Well if you so curious," I said, "I'm writing some sh*t down for a song."

    "You a songwriter?"

    "You could say that."

    "What's the song called?"

    "No Makeup," I said, my eyes still glued to my notepad.

    "Can I read it?. . ."

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I'm sorry if the beginning's a little boring. This is my first story. :P Comment some feedback, please?!