Brooklyn James

Chapter Twelve

I sat on the bed legs folded Indian style and a towel wrapped around my body. We’d just gotten out of the Jacuzzi and were supposed to be getting ready for game night. I was feeling lazy and didn’t feel like putting on any clothes but I knew I had to. It was too cold to be walking around in nothing but basically underwear. I stood up to start getting ready when Xavier walked into the room. I was comfortable in my skin so there was no use in me trying to cover myself up. He came in and watched me for a few minutes before talking.

“So, since we’re here and sharing a room and all you think I can get twenty minutes of your time to ask you a few questions for the project?” 

“You want to talk about the project now while we’re supposed to be on a mini vacation? I swore we set up a time earlier this week for all that but somebody stood me up.” I said.

“Ooooooh, so that’s what you was pissy about; cause I fucked up your plans of with your niggas?” I rolled my eyes.

“No, I’m mad cause you could’ve at least called and said you weren’t gonna come.” 

 “Well, I do apologize for standin you up. So, can we make it up right now while you’re getting ready?” I sighed heavy.

 “What’s your question?” I shuffled through my duffle bag of clothes.  

 “Do you feel the need to have sex with every guy you know?" I pulled out a navy blue tank top. I was in search for my flannel pajama pants. They were so warm.

 “No, but I have a tendency to have sex with every guy that my coochie throb for.” I told him truthfully. “And maybe some that just shows me a little attention.” I then mumbled hoping he didn’t hear me.

 “Why?” I looked at him.

 “Why what?”

 “Why fuck a nigga cause he give you the minimum attention?” I shrugged.

 “Just what I do; I don’t get myself sometimes so, I don’t expect you to understand my actions.”

 “Those are actions of someone that’s naïve Brooklyn.” I shrugged again and dug back into my bag. 

 “Let me ask you a question,” I asked while getting up off of the floor. I retired searching for the pajama pants for the time being. I sat at the opposite end of the bed Indian style. 

“Wassup?”

“So who are you? I’ve been on that campus for three years and not once have I met you. And I’ve met pretty much every nigga that walked that campus.” I asked.

"I'm an intelligent young black man that never lived on campus." I giggled. That wasn't the answer I was looking for. 

“Would you ever go for a girl like me?”

“I fucked girls like you,” I gave him a stale face, he knew how to hurt my feelings and I wasn’t sure if he was purposely doing it.

“That’s not what I asked you,”

"Well who are you?" He asked, turning my question to me. I sighed, 

"Is it bad that I still haven't figured that out yet?" I honestly answered. 

"No, you’re young. This is the time where you figure that out." I nodded. "So, you only feel a connection during sex?"

"Yeah, how can you not? That's the most vulnerable position a person could be in."

"So why doesn't it continue after."

"Cause reality sets in."

"What do you mean by that?"