"we fell in love the way you fall in leaves."
Juwan "Rocky" Rockwell has had a pretty hard life. Between trying to find a way to fend for himself and dealing with the normal hardships of teenage angst, he had nowhere to turn as an adolescent and no...
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"games"
"Are you sure this'll be good?" apprehension was evident in my voice as I glanced up at Sweets. "Girl, if you don't stir that damn tea, I'm gonna' pop you with this spoon," she threatened me. "I'm just sayin'. Seems to me like this ain't nothin' but some hot, bitter lemonade," I commented while stirring the boiling pot.
"You know what? Move out the way because you don't even appreciate tea enough for me to give you this recipe," my cousin forced the spoon out of my grip. "Oh, come on, Sweets. It is not that serious," I kissed my teeth while standing back, out of the way. "To you, it ain't. . . What's been up with you anyway? I ain't seen you in a couple of days," she changed the topic of conversation.
"Nothin' much," I shrugged. "You talked to your mom yet?" she asked. "Sweets, you know the answer to that," I shook my head. She kissed her teeth. "Why ain't you called her? You've been here long enough. You should let her know somethin'. She might think you're dead," Sweets reasoned.
I simply rolled my eyes instead of answering. "Alright now, don't be surprised when she pops up on that ass," Sweets warned me. "I won't be," I shook my head dismissively.
"I'm assuming you haven't talked to your daddy either then." "You're assuming correctly," I nodded. "Damn, do you hate them or something?" Sweets released a chuckle, but I could tell there was some seriousness to her question. "No! I just— I've spent all my life dealing with them in my face and on my back and down my neck. I just need some space," I explained. "Mm-hm. I bet you talk to Juwan every day though," she gave me a knowing look.
"Actually, I didn't talk to him for three days this week," I explained. "Why?" She asked. "We made plans for dinner, and he kind of stood me up," I mumbled the last three words, hoping she didn't hear me. "He what? And you're still talking to him? Quinn, what the hell?" she asked, looking at me in bewilderment.
"He made it up to me," I explained. "What'd he do?" she looked at me, her face reading that nothing I'd say would convince her to let this go.
"He came to my job and brought me two dozen sunflowers and roses. He took me out to dinner and rented out our entire section of the restaurant. He bought me that New Edition album I've been wanting. He paid for both of our meals, and I ordered lobster, girl. Lobster. And then—"
"So he spent a ton of money on you? That's how he made it up to you?" her questions sounded more like statements even as she raised an eyebrow at me. "Well, I mean—"
"Quinn, he has to be held accountable for his actions, and if you let him spoil you every time he fucks up, he's just gonna' keep fucking up because he can afford it," she lectured me. "I told him that I didn't need him to spoil me," I informed her. "Yeah, alright," she pursed her lips before returning to her tea and proceeding to grab the two mugs that we chose to drink out of. "I did! What— you don't believe me?" I asked. "No, I believe you. I'm just a little disappointed. . . Did he at least tell you why he bailed on you?" she asked. "He was with Ava," I mumbled.
