Lighter Shade of Brown (Urban Fiction) BWHM

Chapter 31

They ran her break up with C's into the ground since they could no longer clown on her clothes. Her wardrobe and shoe game was now on polish. Even though C's wanted nothing else to do with her, he'd made sure she had what she needed by sending Ant and Angela to take her—back to school—shopping.

For a couple of weeks afterwards, the Nike checks at the bottom of her shoes barely touched the ground. She just knew him looking out for her had meant something. Maybe an attempt on his part, to push pass the issues separating them. Like more times than not though, wrong refused to pass on defining her foolishness. Especially after the, I'm sorry, phone call never came.

At the bottom of the cement steps, she swung her gaze over the parking lot. A few scragglers ambled in the direction of the front gates. Like her, they'd probably chose to delay going until two minutes before the bus was scheduled to come. What sense did it make to stand out there and get iced out by not only the weather but also the crowd?

Adjusting her book bag on her shoulder, she strode towards the bus stop. Soon as she hit the corner, she saw Tech's Cadillac posted in front of Coco's building. He sat on the hood, while Tim and Dre leaned against the grill on either side of him. Coco stood between his legs with her face turned up to his, wearing a face splitting grin. Tech's expression remained impassive, but his hands had still found their way to the sides of her waist. The sight of them together clenched her back teeth.

She couldn't stand Coco. The bitch was the main ring leader when the mob went in on her at school. After Coco instigated some mess with her, she'd always stand on the sidelines laughing as somebody else finished what she'd started. People elbowed the hell out of each other to fall in line behind her. She was the type of chick the hood reffered to as a project supermodel. Light skinned, killer smile, and sandy brown shoulder length hair gave her a ghetto, Tyra Banks, vibe. At fifteen, despite her short height, dudes always mistook her for a grown woman. Her breasts, ass, and drift cliff curves blinded dope boys on a daily basis and sadly, Tech was no exception.

Not caring about the sound of the school bus pulling through the gate, Cleo changed directions and headed over to Tech. She passed Coco, Tim, and Dre as they ran to catch the bus. By the time she made it to him, he'd slid from the hood, and began walking around to the drivers side of the car. He craned his neck to stare in the direction of the bus. His bored gaze flared when his eyes collided with hers. A closed lip smile graced his face, before he locked down shop on his expression. Pushing the dreads from his face, he rounded the car and walked towards her to meet her halfway.

"Cleopatra, erry ting alright?" He asked, frowning over her shoulder at the retreating school bus. "Are ya sick?"

Cleo ignored him. "So is this where you been? Over here posted with her?" She asked, waving her hand at the vacant bus stop. "Is that why you weren't answerin' my pages, 'cause of her?"

"Who Coco?" A look crossed his features that she couldn't read. "This my first time seein' her in a couple of weeks. It wasn't my intention ta see her today. I came out ta get at some business wit Tim and Dre. Lil' mama spotted my ass on da way ta da bus stop."

She lifted her chin and regarded him through a narrowed eyed glare. "So you ain't been chillin' with her?"

"Naw. I've been in New Orleans hollerin' at my bothers for da past week," he answered, holding her gaze. "And since der's nuthin' I can do about any pages I get while der, I turn it off and leave it at my spot." He lifted a stray curl from her shoulder and rubbed the tendril between his index finger and thumb. "Haven't even been home ta check it yet. Wanted ta come check out tings here first, 'fore I headed in. Ain't no tellin' how long I'ma sleep."

Groundless assumptions pricked a hole in her anger, releasing unjustified hot air as embarrassment shoved her eyes to the ground and firmly planted itself on her shoulders. She mentally kicked herself. Why the hell did she come for Tech like a crackhead trying to snatch a purse? He wasn't her man. Homey, could chill with whoever he wanted. Then on top of everything wrong, her dumb ass had to go and miss the bus. Liberty would have her ass. She hated when people called the house about Cleo missing school.

"My bad, Tech," she muttered under her breath. "Thought you was acting funny with me because of what happened in my kitchen the other night."

Cradling her face in his hands, Tech nudged until her reluctant gaze met his. "Ya thought I was freezin' ya out 'cause you shut me down? Are ya crazy? I have no pride when it comes ta ya, gurl. Push me away today and I'll be back tomorrow ifa can. What was you tinkin'?"

"Since we started fallin' into each other zones, we haven't gone this long without talkin'." Her eyes rolled closed when the pad of his thumb stroked the hollow of her jaw. She wasn't supposed to feel so weak when he stood that close to her. When had Tech begun to control the pace of her breathing. "It just felt..."

"Off track?" He questioned, his eyes focused on hers like two laser beams of light.

She nodded. "Look, I get that you don't owe me anything. Not a kiss my ass or a fuck you, not a thang. But still, a phone call to let me know you was dippin' for a week would've been nice."

"Alright," he said with a lazy shrug. "Da next time, you'll be da first ta know 'fore I even tink 'bout crossin' dat state line. You have my word, Lil one." Leaning forward, he brushed his lips across her forehead. "Now come on wit ya. Let me drive ya ta school 'fore ya late."

When his hands left her face to return to his sides, the ice block in her chest vibrated as more condensation rolled down the sides. The heat which radiated from Tech's affection had compromised her cold indifference. The integrity of the ice in her chest cavity could no longer be trusted to block the bullshit. Pretty soon her defenses would be no more than a puddle.