Save the Last Dance was in my DVD player. It was Saturday night and normal girls would either be out with their best friends or somewhere lost in love with their significant other.
Troiann was doing something special with Marcus and as happy as I was for her, I just wanted to bask in my lonesome. Sometimes solitude was nice.
I liked Julia Stiles. I couldn't think of a single '90s movie that she'd starred in that she hadn't killed. I even loved the hell out of her and Sean Patrick Thomas in Save the Last Dance.
My cell phone alerted me to a new text message. I expected to find Omari texting me, but to my dismay it was from Him.
I wanted to tell him to go screw himself and to lose my number. I wanted to also make note that he was trespassing.
Instead, I found myself marching downstairs to the back door, ready to tell him off to his face.
I opened the door, ready to say something foul, but then I caught sight of how He looked.
"DeAndre?" I was amazed at how easily and fluidly his name rolled off of my tongue after going for so long without saying it. DeAndre.
He seemed jumpy. "C-can I come in?"
No. Absolutely not. I should've told him to take his ass to Draya or one of his "best" friends.
The thought refueled my anger and I opened my mouth to tell him three words he needed to hear.
Except, what came out didn't sound like go fuck yourself, but instead, "Come in."
I found myself taking a step back, allowing him to enter my home. I had a right to be angry but never before had I seen DeAndre so...frightened.
I had been lounging around and so I was only wearing an oversized racerback tank with a pair of leggings. My bra was showing, and not to mention the tank top's v-cut giving a nice peek at my cleavage. Cautiously, I crossed my arms over my chest.
Together we stood there for a moment, too awkward to speak. DeAndre looked around and I just stood taking him all in. He was only wearing a navy t-shirt with a pair of black sweats. Sweatpants on guys was just all types of yes and yum and—ugh.
I looked elsewhere.
"Why are you here, DeAndre?" I asked.
He ran his hands down his face, letting out a heavy, strained breath. "I got in a fight with my dad and I-I hit him. I fucking hit my dad, Cree."
Shit.
Judging from the looks of his handsome face, his father hadn't hit back.
Without asking for more, I grabbed his hand and led him up to my bedroom, closing the door behind us. We went and sat on my bed and I watched as DeAndre leaned over, bowing his head and drooping his shoulders.
I didn't know what to do. Instinct told me to touch him, caress him, but things were different now.
Reaching out, I hesitated before placing my hand on his back.
"What happened?" I asked.
He shook his head, staring down at the carpet. "I just asked why my mother left us. He said it was because he used to be out on the road and giving in to Lay-up Bunnies. He acted like it was her fault for leaving, that she overreacted to his cheating. And then when I threw it back at him about pushing people away, Darnel included, he...he called my brother a bitch and I lost it."
It was both a surprise and shock. DeAndre didn't seem like the type to ever get mad, let alone mad enough to hit someone. In some ways, I'd always envied his calmness and nonchalance, in others, I found it irritating.
I leaned over and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close. "I'm sorry, Dre."
It didn't last long before he fought me off and pulled away. "Don't," he said.
Right, he wasn't good about affection, let alone comfort when he was down.
"I shouldn't have come here," he said. "The best thing I did for you was end it. You deserve better than some guy like me with all these fucking problems. I'm sure being friends with Troy isn't this dramatic."
My heart ached, knowing that I had already fallen for a guy like him.
I snorted. "She did end up with Marcus."
DeAndre looked over at me. "I'm sorry for intruding."
I hated this. I hated that things were so far gone between us that he had to be sorry for needing my help or company. Most of all, I hated that I'd given in and stopped being his friend. I should've fought for it, because when I needed someone, he was there for me.
I wanted to hold him, but settled for reaching out and taking his hand. "No, I'm sorry for abandoning you when you really needed a friend. This was never a burden, Dre. You were there for me, so let me be here for you."
He took his hand back. "I'm not the one you owe an apology to." He glanced at me, seeming serious now. "Trey's been cool with you from day one and that shit you said in class Thursday wasn't called for."
Of course he would drop the subject and turn the tables on me.
"I know," I said. "It wasn't right but—"
"No buts, Cree. You need to fix that."
Bossy DeAndre was Strict DeAndre. "Yes, Daddy," I mocked.
He rolled his eyes and looked over, noticing my paused movie. "Save the Last Dance?"
I nodded. "It's such a good movie."
DeAndre appeared surprised. "Good to hear you're growing. So if I wanted to holla at Emily you'd be cool? Because she's got the nicest ass—"
"Don't push it, Dre. I don't have to accept or agree with anything. The only thing I have to do is stay black and die."
DeAndre closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Cree."
I cracked a smile and elbowed him. "I'm a work in progress."
Emily Gardner did have a nice ass. The thought brought me to Draya, who was noticeably getting thicker and eating more. The only good thing was that pregnancy complimented her, because she had never looked better.
The thought saddened me when it came to reality.
It was selfish to want such things now.
DeAndre reached out and placed his hand on my shoulder. "Thanks, for doing this."
I shrugged. "Yeah, no big deal."
He reached up and smoothed back stray hairs that had fallen from my loose ponytail. He seemed to be distracting himself as he kept touching my hair.
"Do you like it?" I asked.
He lowered his gaze to me. "Your hair? I liked the red, but this is nice too." He shrugged and touched my hair one final time. "I like your hair whatever way you wanna wear it, Cree."
"So if I got a fade?"
He pointed to his hairline. "As long as your joint was all straight, we'd be cool."
His silly comment made me smile. "Good to know."
"Most importantly though, you shouldn't need the approval of a guy to wear your hair any way. You shouldn't need a guy to tell you anything about yourself. You don't need a guy to tell you you're smart or beautiful, these are things you should come to know and learn and accept about yourself on your own."
I leaned back, studying him as I slit my eyes. "Are you a feminazi?"
He chuckled. "No."
"I'm sorry; I just picked up on that I-Don't-Need-a-Man vibe."
Together we briefly laughed, reminiscing over our first confrontation. Slowly we were beginning to joke with each other and that felt good. I'd missed that. But I couldn't just pretend he hadn't come over because he'd struck his father.
"DeAndre why did you come to me and not anyone else?" I asked. "We have to talk about it."
"To be honest, because it just felt right. I know you're mad at me, but when it comes to my dad and my family, you're the only one I've ever really opened up to about the stress. You're the only one it felt right going to."
There he went again, saying the perfect thing, but showing difference in his actions.
I hated myself for allowing a boy to make me feel so inadequate.
I pouted. "Damn I wish we really had a dog."
"Why?"
"So I can tell your ass to go and bunk with it."
DeAndre cracked a smile and laughed. "Shut up, Cree." He looked at the TV for a moment and back to me. "Do you mind if I stay here?"
"Of course not," I told him.
I looked over at my bed, wondering if its pink sheets were too girly for a Balla.
"On the floor," he quickly added. "With the way my luck's going Omari could come through here and then I'd have to punch someone else."
I opened my mouth to clear my status with Omari but stopped, not wanting to go there. That was not this, and more, deep down I knew it never would be.
He stood from my bed. "I'm tired, I should get some sleep. He's going to beat my ass tomorrow."
"I-if you want I could—"
DeAndre shot me down. "Nah, I've got it. This is something that's been coming for a long time. I shouldn't have hit him, but he deserved it."
I wanted to be there for him, but he'd only push me away. It burned, it burned me bad.
I turned the TV off and helped him make a pallet on the floor.
Long after I'd turned my lights off and could hear the sound of his breathing, indicating his slumber, I lay in bed, unable to sleep.
The minutes were ticking by but I wasn't in the least bit tired.
Finally fed up, I gave in and just did what I wanted to do anyway.
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"Best I Ever Had" – Drake + Nicki Minaj