Can The Player PLAY The Player?

Point 17.

A.M

Even though life was amazing right now, my mind, as usual, had to go and make things worse.

"Aaron, honey," I was just chilling in my room one day, bobbing my head to music as my mother came in with an obviously important question, so I took out my earphone to see what it was. My hope was instantly crushed when she opened her mouth, her lips enunciating the one name I wasn't trying to hear.

"How's Zaid doing? I know Katrine mentioned that he was doing okay, but you know him better than we do." I fought the urge to roll my eyes as I sighed heavily, a sense of solemn misery washing over me like a calm waterfall.

"He's fine," I replied, knowing that I just talked to him about an hour ago about this project and how he had several ideas to offer and he gave me a day in which we could start recording, so Maia could edit it for us with her video skills. It was basically a ten-minute preview of our lives and what we learned from each other as we got to know each other, as the prompt suggested. Only difference was that there was no end to us getting to know each other, so at some point, we would have to stop short.

"Do you think you can ask Zaid if he can come by and lift this boulder for me?" I could feel my eye twitching in irritation as I sighed, nodding slowly. "Yes, sure," I mumbled before turning back to my phone, realizing that she really only came in here to ask me that question. It was starting to get on my last nerve with how much these people inquired about this teenager.

"Make sure to check on Zaid."

"Ask Zaid if he can do this for me."

"Ask Zaid if his hair is real."

"See if Zaid cares about us."

"Zaid."

"Zaid."

"Zaid."

Just how much do these people care about him? I mean, I cared a great deal about him and I loved him a lot, but my family and my friends acted as if they hadn't seen this man in years. They were crying his name and asking a whole bunch of questions about him as if he went to war suddenly, but this dude literally lived down the street. 

They had his cellphone number and his email. Hell, they even had this bastard's Instagram and Twitter, so I knew it wasn't that fucking difficult to find him.

But whenever I was around, they always made it a point to ask me about him like I was the window to his soul or some shit.

It really made me feel like no one really cared about me, and that was a hard pill to swallow. I didn't even know why I felt lonely in a room full of people, but I guess that it was because they were looking at me, but they weren't talking directly to me. If they were, it wasn't about me.

I knew it probably wasn't their intention to make me feel like that, but damn. It was as if everyone acted like Zaid was all they had to have and it sucked. Was it because everyone was devoting so much to him? Yes. Was it because they weren't showing me love like that? Yes. 

It was also because the fucker looked as if he was relishing in the attention, forgetting about me for a while. It was weird because I grew up having all of his attention and to not have the same amount was unsettling.

Yes, screw me for being a spoiled brat.

I knew Kylene was trying to convince me that people knew Zaid through me as best as she could with all of the comfort in the world, but there was no denying what I felt.

And I hated it with an immense passion.

It was time for dinner, my mom decided, so I went down to see if the talk about Zaid Brooks was over and I could bring something new to the table. I sat down in front of my piping hot food, giving everyone a nice smile as I dug in. It was quiet, save for the sound of chomping and crunching, so I took the cue.