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You've Been Flirting Again

By: miserybusiness



I really hated my boyfriend sometimes. 

No really. I couldn't stand him. And the sad part was, he wasn't always like this. He was actually a normal—okay maybe not normal, but still—black kid, just like me.

Roy was one of those indie boys, having rejected the role of an annoying stereotype back in his inner city neighborhood. It was basically how we met, since we're both what others call 'indie.' 

Now when I say indie, I'm not talking about those brothers in the city who slap a few pins on their acid wash denim jackets, stuff their heads into snap-back caps, rock vintage sneakers, listen to Odd Future and call themselves original. Oh no.

Roy was actually the epitome of an indie kid. I'm talking Urban Outfitters frequenting, vinyl record purchasing, concert loving, indie kid. My friends even thought our combined names—Roy and Roshanda—were fitting of our strong bond. We even had matching plugs.

So I thought a love like that would never die. This was true when we were in high school. Then we got to college and everything changed.

Both of our majors were at the same school, and I thought we'd stay tight while we attended college. I kept up my appearance—loose curls, my snake bite piercings, and plugs, combined with my wardrobe, most of which was from thrift stores or Urban Outfitters—and him? Roy just completely went left.

It was that damn frat.

Soon as he joined the school's step frat, his whole persona changed. The short afro—which I adored—became a fade. The plugs disappeared. He quit wearing jeans that fit. His musical tastes shifted. He'd traded Lykke Li, Manchester Orchestra, and Bon Iver for Waka Flocka, Wiz Khalifa, and Lil' B.

I would've been more comfortable if he listened to Drake.

Then his mannerisms went. Normally a bit more quiet and reserved, he got all loud and ignorant, trying as hard as he could to match the rowdy guys he hung around most of the time. It wasn't cute. It was stupid. Even my friends took notice.

It was getting more and more embarrassing to hang around him, and I began to feel like he resented me. The things we enjoyed together, he now hated.

Case in point: the school's musical showcase. 

Every year, they put on this huge extravaganza, sort of like its personal Lollapalooza. This year, it was held indoors, and I was a bit pissed. Being loud was somewhat tolerable outside. Roy's ignorant ass was going to embarrass me, I knew it.

"Babe, how much longer do we have to walk around? That rapper is behind us," he complained, limply holding my hand while I weaved through the crowd at the school's Union building.

I rolled my eyes. I knew it wouldn't be long before he started complaining. "Can you just wait? I wanna look around a little longer," I explained. "Besides, I'm looking for the screamo bands."

Roy sucked his teeth and adjusted his baseball cap. "Shanda, I don't wanna hear that whiny white boy shit."

There it was. Two 'whiny white boys' were sitting down, but as soon as he said that, they looked at us, like we both said it.

"Stop it," I warned, turning around to glare at him. "You used to like it."

Roy groaned and continued following me through the crowd. I hated this. Roy used to be my best friend and now he was relegated to a really good fuck who just happened to not be a friend with benefits.

In fact, it sounded extremely shallow, but the sex was the only thing keeping me from fully leaving him. Roy was quite the accomplished lover. I knew it. He knew it.

The neighbors knew it. (Sorry, Rachel and Tiffany.)

Since all of our similarities were slowly diminishing, our entire relationship was now based on sex, which I hated. Sure, he could make my toes curl, but when the sex was over, I liked to talk about stuff—because I'm a girl—afterwards. I couldn't do that with him anymore. And I longed for it, but ever since he joined this stupid frat, he turned into every other black boy I ever met in high school—loud, rude, and one-dimensional.

Just as I was about to give in, because I'd seen most of the indie bands and rappers the school had to offer, this band started up in another room, and it sounded nice and doom-y. 

"Ah! Come on," I grabbed Roy's hand and led him to the next room, where this raucous screamo band was just revving up.

"Shon-daaaa!" He whined, tired of me obviously dragging him places. I didn't care. He made me sit through this terrible performance of some wigger and his best friend chanting the same word a million times over an obvious basement beat. He could live through a few growls for a few minutes.

The band reminded me of Asking Alexandria. Even the lead singer looked like Ben Bruce, a hottie in my book. They shredded, headbanged, and growled. A mosh pit was threatening to form, and Roy yanked my arm, trying to get me to leave. I declined. 

Duh.

The lead singer, wearing just a white t-shirt, skinny black jeans, and Vans, took to the mic. But I wasn't listening to anything he was saying. I was staring at him. 

Everything about him looked interesting. From his sweat-slicked brunette shag, to the spiderbite lip rings on the right side of his lip, to his left sleeve tattoo, a full work of art from wrist to shoulder.

"...And we thank you guys for coming to see us. Ok," he readjusted his guitar strap and plucked a pick from his mic stand. "This song is called 'Waiting for Death.'"

I watched him move. I watched him headbang. I watched all the sweat fall from his head to the floor. He was skinny, pale, and intense. 

Just the way I liked them.

Roy kind of knew I had a white boy fetish before I met him, but it didn't stop me from going with him. However, with the way things were now, I wouldn't mind hopping on a white horse.

I wanted to hang around to at least get a name so I could look them up on Facebook and tell the lead singer I enjoyed his show. Something. He was so fine. He had the type of look that said, "I'm hardcore but I'm sort of indie too, you just gotta figure out how they blend." Everyone else in the band was hot in their own ways, but this guy had my attention.

As I elbowed people who kept bumping into me, desperate to restart a pit, I realized that my infatuation was futile. Knowing him, he had some girlfriend with blue hair who wore Creepers and had at least five facial piercings. 

Definitely not me.

So while I waited on the sexy lead singer to finish screaming so he could tell us the name of the band again, and hopefully his name, I turned around to see if Roy was still around. Nope. He'd retreated to the back of the room, checking his phone like he always did.

That was another thing. All of a sudden, he's so into his Blackberry. He never checked his phone this much back in high school. In fact, if it wasn't a record player or his iPod, he didn't care for it.

"We are Shitty Pilots. I'm Chris. Our lovely drummer is Daniel," he paused and Daniel managed a creative drumroll, met with applause. "and we have Stephen on bass." He plucked his guitar a few times, and some more screams erupted. Though the room wasn't that packed, the crowd was sizeable.

I tried not to seem like I was staring at Chris for the longest, but when my eyes finally settled back on him, I couldn't help but notice his gorgeous blue eyes. He seemed so soulful. Like there was way more to him than an arm full of tats and damp brown hair.

"Okay, we're gonna do a cover next. How many of you guys are familiar with a band called Local Natives?"

My hand rose. I fucking loved Local Natives. And I didn't expect a screamo band to want to cover them. A few other people raised their hands, but mostly everyone was in the dark. Chris even warned us that the song was slow, but they'd do what they could. Then, he began the opening to "Airplanes," one of my favorites from their debut.

"I love it alllllllll, so much I caaaaaaaaall, I want you back!" He screamed, exciting the crowd who thought the song was all bark and no bite. I was fully engaged until somebody came up to me decided to drag me out of the room, fed up with me actually enjoying the damn show. 

He really pissed me off. So I had to sit through two guys making fools of themselves, but I couldn't watch a few indie bands and Chris—I mean, his band—play great music?

"What the fuck, Roy!" I shook my curls over my shoulders and whipped away from him. I was tired of this shit.

He hunched his shoulders. "What? It's late, and if I hadn't pulled you out of there, we woulda still been up in there, listening that bullshit."

I folded my arms, a bit embarrassed that people were walking by, probably thinking all black couples argued like this.

"Roy, you're pissing me off. A lot. Ever since you joined that frat, you don't hang with me like you used to, you hate all the things we used to love, and you act different. Where's the boy I fell in love with back in high school? The one I used to joke with about how shitty the school was and how were A-squared?"

We used to joke about how we were awesomeness times two. Hence, A-squared. 

Roy was silent. I brought this up a lot, but it didn't seem to mean anything because he never changed. He went silent again and was basically silent the whole time we walked back to my dorm. I didn't have a roommate, so Roy came and went as he pleased.

After a long day of squeezing through people and getting dirty, I stripped out of my American Apparel dress and my combat boots and headed for my shower. After I turned on the water, I thought about everything. Roy's treatment of me, the assload of homework that was due in just three days—fucking astronomy and physics—and of course, Chris.

It sounds so stupid, but upon first glance, I could tell that he was a special soul, and if I had just one conversation with him, and I got a great vibe from him, I was sure we could develop something. 

Even if it was just a friendship.

As the hot water met all the nooks and crannies of my body, I heard the door open, and then I heard clothes drop to the floor. It was Roy, wanting some shower sex, as usual.

He sheepishly pushed the curtain aside, and kind of pleaded with his eyes if it was okay for him to enter. 

I stepped aside, and he squeezed in. I kissed Roy's wonderfully full lips and stared into his eyes. He pushed me again the shower wall and locked me in, like I wasn't going anywhere. He loved doing that.

I could feel his hard cock grazing against my freshly trimmed pussy as we made out, his long tongue making circles around mine. He nibbled on my lips and grabbed a handful of my round ass with those large hands of his, making me giggle a bit.

Roy held onto a cheek with one hand, and held his dick with the other, stroking it slowly while we made out. Then he motioned for me to spread my legs and started caressing my pussy with his dick. I loved it when he teased me before he entered me.

Because his dick was pretty big—we maneuvered this before—I had to hop up a little bit in the tiny shower so he could get it all the way in. Think of a bicycle. I had to hop on the bicycle. 

But the bicycle was a dick.

We started off slow at first, slow enough for him to rest his head on my tits and play with them, and enough for me to enjoy those slow, drawn out moans that he told me he loved when we first started sexing. Our different skin tones meshed. His a caramel mocha complexion, mine a darker chocolate. My nails dug into his back as his thrusts got faster, breathing heavier, temperature hotter.

"Oooh Roy, don't stop," I whispered, grabbing hold of his biceps, trying my hardest not to scream out. If I did, I'd catch hell from Rachel, who was always up at this hour studying. Those engineering majors.

Roy grabbed my hips and thrusted so hard I had to let out a scream. My feet weren't even touching the floor as he picked me up and plowed into me. I started stroking my clit to enhance the orgasm, that awesome mind-blowing orgasm that started from my toes, made my legs go numb, and made my body go limp, so much so that he had to catch me when it was all over. 

We laughed because it was kind of awkward, then he carried me to the bed after drying me off. He did something we hadn't done in a while.

He was always bragging about my body and how it was so nice. So after showers, he'd rub oil all over me and kiss me all over as he did so. Roy took his sweet time, once again. First my legs, hands squeezing my thighs, then my flat stomach, my tits—he lingered there for a while—then my toned shoulders and arms, when he got to my face we just kissed for a good ten minutes. 

Tonight was a good night to sleep naked. We got into my bed and cuddled. I was thinking, hey, maybe what I said had sunken in this time. Roy finally got the message.

He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, I whispered, "I love you, Roy."

I'm thinking I'd get the same response back. But did I? Nope.

Instead, he farted he real loud and didn't even say anything.

I turned around and faced him. "Really? Really."

He Kanye-shrugged. "Night, girl."

What a fucktard. How was I gonna deal with this man?

And just like that, my thoughts about Chris revved right back up.

You've Been Flirting Again Ch. 02



"Wait a minute," Andi, my closest friend from high school, next to Roy of course, stopped dead in her tracks and gave me the look. She shoved aside a curtain of blonde curls and adjusted her brown cardigan, which almost matched her skin.

"He farted?"

It pained my heart to nod. Even then, I had the worst look on my face, like I was admitting to sleeping with some downtown Chicago bum.

Andi looked up and groaned. Even she was frustrated. We were on the way to Urban Outfitters because she needed to make an exchange. The sun was high in the sky, right above us, baking us, like we needed the extra pigmentation.

"Why haven't you just broken up with him yet? You still holding onto that glimmer of hope that he'll be the guy he was back in high school?" Andi took a nice long sip of her Starbucks latte before she studied the puzzled look on my face.

"I just," I shrugged my shoulders and shoved my hands in my jeans pockets. "I still love him somehow. Even though he morphed into a dick, I still do. When we're alone, sometimes he says really nice stuff to me." I turned to her. "It's almost like high school."

Andi nodded. "Yup. Or he farts."

I rolled my eyes. "You don't get it. We still have a connection."

She loudly slurped her latte and glared at me. "Yeah, the one that comes with farts."

I blinked a few times. "Andi, shut up." We reached the store, waiting for an older couple to exit. 

Since it was the weekend, everyone was out, swirling around and getting Subway, frozen yogurt, hitting up the ATM, or just chilling on the quad.

Today would've been awesome if I didn't have to go to Roy's stupid step show today. It wasn't that I hated supporting him, but they boosted his ego so much. I'd like to blame the frat for jading him so badly, but he succumbed to it. I guess he felt like he wasn't cool in high school, so now college was his chance to reform himself.

But he didn't know that he was already perfect to me.

Urban Outfitters greeted us with cool air and a song I'd heard before. It always did. After the greeter did her job, Andi made a beeline for the front desk, while I checked the mannequins, bobbing my head to some Two Door Cinema Club.

My fingers danced over the fabrics. Tribal print, tribal print, and more tribal print. Hmm. 

Even though Roy was still on the brain, my mind couldn't help but go back to Chris. Chris's sexy ass. Mmph. I would've loved to see him again. I thought it'd be fairly easy to strike up a conversation if I saw him play the other night. 

Then, like something keyed in on me, I looked across the room, where the sale shoes were located. It was him. He was folding shirts on a table close to the stairs.

My jaw dropped. He looked even better than yesterday. Plus, he was wearing a vest with a v-neck, the same jeans from yesterday, and some ratty red Chucks. He'd even put on those obvious hipster-y horn-rimmed glasses.

In other words, he looked perfect.

Andi came over to me, clutching her brown paper bag and eyeing her receipt. "You wanna keep looking—"

I grabbed her. "Andi. It's him."

She frowned. "Who?"

I nodded ahead. "Him!"

Andi blinked at me a few times, probably unsure of why I was being so weird. Then she squinted her eyes. "Oh, Chris! I know him." She waved me off, like it was no big deal.

I gasped. "You know him? How?"

Vaguely, she responded, "He's in my psych class. Hella smart, too. He's all intellectual and shit."

Andi rolled up her cardigan sleeves and then looked at me. Then she saw right through me.

"You're still staring at him. You like him!"

I was so obvious sometimes.

"No, I just think he'd be real cool to talk to."

Andi scoffed. "You can't even lie right. I can tell you dig him. Wonder how Roy would feel about your little white boy fetish coming true?"

Ugh. That.

"I'm gonna go look around," I said, almost sounding like a question. Hey, it was true. They had these canvas backpacks that would go perfect with my army green military jacket.

But the rack he was at was real close to the bag section. Maybe I could check out those overpriced t-shirts he was folding. 

I sauntered over to the table, passing a ginger chick with plugs and a calf tattoo. As I started going through the shirts, I couldn't help but notice that crazy tattoo on Chris's arm. But then again, I didn't want to seem obvious.

But then again, I did.

I figured, what the hell? Worst he could do was tell me he wasn't into black chicks and I'd just leave with egg on my face. Big deal.

I cleared my throat. Then, I smiled in an inviting manner so he wouldn't think I was a threat. 

"Didn't you play at the showcase yesterday?"

He looked up, still folding a shirt. "Yeah. Did you enjoy?" His look said he was preoccupied, but willing. It was a start.

I tried not to seem nervous, so I nonchalantly kept looking at the shirts. "Yeah, I'm a huge fan of screamo and metalcore. Plus, y'all threw in that Local Natives, and you guys did a great rendition of 'Airplanes.'"

Now I had his full attention. He dropped the shirt and smiled. "Duuude, nobody else knew that song. They were like, why are you playing this song, it's not fast, we'll lose the crowd."

I said, "Well, it's real good to show you have versatility, you know? Like, going from one extreme to another."

Chris nodded. "Everytime we perform, I try to mix it up. So you can mosh pit, but then rest up afterwards." He smiled and pointed to me. "That's really good, you must be like, a music expert. How did you hear about Local Natives?"

I shrugged. "Random poking around on music blogs."

He touched his chest, like the band was close to his heart. "They are ahhhh-mazing. I listen to them before I go to sleep every night. They just relax me to no end." After a while, he walked over and extended a hand.

"I'm Chris, by the way."

Tempted to say, "Yeah, I know," I said, "Nice to meet you! I'm Roshanda."

When he held the handshake for a second too long—and kept looking at me—I knew he was attracted.

And that was fucking awesomesauce.

"Nice to meet you, Roshanda. I'd really love to keep talking to you but it looks like they need me over at the front desk."

I looked up. Andi had just walked past, and there was a growing line at the register.

"Oh, it's fine," I waved him off. "I'm sure we'll meet up again."

Chris scoffed. "Hell yeah. Okay, it was so nice meeting you," he backwards walked while he waved goodbye to me, then ran up to the register. 

I was still in a state of shock until Andi hit me in the head with a zip-top clutch. I turned to her.

"Hey stupid, you realize you watched him walk away?" She examined her pick and then shoved it in my face. "Whatchu think of this?"

I moved her hand away, tucking a piece of my hair behind an ear. "I can't believe you knew him and didn't tell me!"

Andi's eyebrows rose. "I wasn't aware I needed to know of his existence! And besides, you have a—" she stepped in my face. "—boyfriend!"

Ugh! Now I really hated Roy. He was ruining my future connection with Chris. I knew the moment was fading because URBN decided to play some lame Weeknd song that I never really cared for. 

Soon as we left, I took one last peek at Chris. He was explaining the return policy to a customer, so we didn't share that last gaze. But I did cop a stare at his amazing tattoo. Gawd, he was sexy.

Later that day, I hauled ass to the auditorium, where the step show was being held. Roy was adamant about getting there early, as the tickets sold out quick and the auditorium filled up even quicker. Andi couldn't join me because she was writing a paper, and I had no one else to bug. So I went solo.

I'm sitting there amongst a crowd of people in my hipster get-up that Roy would've normally loved—denim jacket, flouncy black dress, and my beat-up brown boots that were practically falling apart with my floral leggings—but I didn't feel like rooting for him at all. In fact, when he saw me before the show, he said I looked stupid.

I felt stupid for continuing to like this boy even though his behavior was a red flag that it was time to drop him. Every now and then, he'd make me feel like everything was fine, but I had to wait for those moments too often. I wanted them all the time, like a normal girlfriend.

A seat beside me was taken by some loud black chick with at least four different hairstyles combined into one. Part of me wanted to get up and move somewhere else, but I had a perfect view of the stage. And a perfect distance to the exit in case I just couldn't take it anymore.

While I waited, I listened to Delorean, so out of it, I didn't notice that someone was asking me a question. When I felt that tap, I flinched a little, then looked up.

It was Chris!

I was flabbergasted. So much so that I didn't even speak a coherent sentence at first. Then I managed, "Hey! What are you doing here?" I hoped he didn't think that was racist, because this step show was filled with mostly black people.

He smiled. Nice teeth. Then he looked around. "My friend's in this frat too. He wanted me to check it out and I'm bored. Is this seat taken?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Go ahead."

He sat down and ran a hand through his hair. "Surprised to see you here. Are you waiting on your boyfriend or something?"

Aww, he was cute, automatically assuming I had a boyfriend.

"Not really. But my boy—" 

Okay, I didn't really want to make him think I wasn't interested. So I lied—bad move, I know—and corrected myself.

"—wanted me to check it out, too. He's my best friend. Said he's in the step show and there's other hot guys—single guys—to check out at the after party."

Chris frowned. "Is that why every girl here is dressed like they're going to the club?"

I chuckled. It was true. At the step show, people put on their skankiest attire. I counted three nipple slips and like, two visible thongs on the way inside.

I nodded. "Yeah, you'd be correct."

Chris's eyes wandered over to my iPod. "What are you listening to?"

I held it up so he could see. He gasped. "I love Delorean."

That pretty much opened the floodgates for our conversation. We learned a lot about each other in the crazy amount of time it was taking the show to start, as they were notorious for being late as hell.

Chris was a Virgo. His favorite band at the moment was The Mars Volta, last concert he saw was Bon Iver, and he had a thing for movies directed by Judd Apatow. Sophomore, engineering major with a music minor, and he was getting his ears stretched to accommodate the plugs he was keen on getting soon.

Basically, everything about him screamed "sex god" to me.

We were still waiting after at least a half an hour, and the show was supposed to start twenty minutes ago. I was talking about my weird obsession with independent film, my fish allergy, the quality of living at my dorm, and sex. We were clicking so hard, and even Chris knew it.

After another ten minutes passed, with no word of anything, Chris tapped me. He looked both ways, like he was planning an escape, and said, "Look, I don't think this show is starting anytime soon. Do you wanna go grab some coffee or something?"

I looked at the stage, still empty, then at my watch. I should've stayed for Roy, but this damn waiting was ridiculous. Besides, it was just coffee.

"Sure." We both stood up and inched past the others, heading up the stairs and out of the auditorium.

We moved our talk to Starbucks, over lattes and brownies. Chris was definitely the intellectual. And quite philosophical at that. He was so wise, yet at the same time, he could quote South Park and Family Guy accurately. He was everything Roy quit being.

"So um," Chris nervously played with his leftover chunk of brownie as he began, "I know I just met you, but you seem really cool."

If I were white, I would've started blushing automatically.

"Thank you! So do you. I had a feeling you were deep when I saw you perform. You're very multi-dimensional."

Chris grinned, then popped the brownie piece in his mouth. "Well, I just wanted to let you know. I don't want you to think I'm weird or anything, though. Usually, when I tell girls I like them, they back away, like I'm asking them their hand in marriage or some shit."

I scoffed. "Those girls suck. I bet they were all the same too, right?"

He hunched his shoulders. "I guess. I think they just got off on the idea of dating a guy in a band. I don't know."

I looked away, then back at Chris, those silver studs practically gleaming in my eyes. "How many relationships have you had?"

He drummed his uneven fingernails on the table and sighed. "I think one serious relationship, five meaningless ones, starting my senior year of high school. The only girl I ever really liked moved to fucking Arkansas when it was time for me to start school, and we lost touch. Those other five relationships? I don't know what they were, but they were hell. I just gave up trying after a while." He looked down. Aww he was sad.

"How about you?"

I licked my lips, in case there were brownie crumbs all over my mouth. A barista walked past and I put my arms on the table. In body language, that meant full disclosure, and comfort with the one you were with.

Thank you, interpersonal communication class.

"Well, when I was in high school, I met this guy. We were basically the guy and girl versions of each other. We completed each other. And we liked all the same things. But somewhere along the line," I looked out the window, because it was depressing to talk about Roy like he was an ex, even though I was still with him.

"He changed. And I realized I had to let him go because he wasn't who I fell in love with anymore. Just like I was sure he didn't want me anymore."

Chris shook his head slowly, out of pity, it seemed. "Well, he's a fucking idiot." When he looked at me and smiled, I knew meant it. I smiled back.

After our Starbucks tryst, walking outside underneath the night sky, we decided to sit on the quad and talk for a few. We even listened to my iPod, marveling over our insane like for the practically the same music. 

We were lying down in the grass after some time, and I felt his arm wrap around me, in the middle of a Freelance Whales song. I didn't stop him, even though I should've. We were moving hella fast, but I didn't feel like it was anything out of lust. Of course, I had to keep my guard up, but it was hard.

Chris looked at me and asked, "I'm sorry, is it okay if I put my around you?"

No, now get your disfigured arm away from me! Yes, and I wouldn't mind if you ate my pussy right now either!

"No, it's fine." I laughed and he held his hands up, as if surrendering. 

"Sorry, just checking. I don't wanna freak you out."

I looked at him. "You don't freak me out. You do the opposite, actually."

Chris sat up, removing his arm from me, and propping his elbow up in the grass, head resting in his hand, to look at me. My eyebrows met. 

"What, do I have a booger?"

He didn't smile. He had this intense look on his face that said he wanted to kiss me. I knew he did. Chris traced a finger around my face.

"I'm really trying to restrain myself, Roshanda, but you're so pretty and I get an awesome vibe from you."

I didn't say anything. I just continued losing myself in those gorgeous blue eyes of his. The moon was overhead, illuminating his face at just the right angle. 

His Adam's apple bobbed a second, like he swallowed hard out of nervousness. "If I said I wanted to kiss you right now, would you mind?"

I shook my head slowly, and he leaned in. My spiderbites clinked with the right side of his snake bite piercing and we stayed locked for about three seconds. When we parted, he palmed the back of my head.

"Your lips are so soft, Roshanda," he whispered, going back in for more. This was happening too fast. I knew it. 

But it felt good. 

Just as we were about to do tongue play, my iPod still playing, my phone buzzed in my jeans. 

Normally, I would've ignored it, but it was really irritating, especially now that Chris was getting really into it, and I wanted to stop the buzzing.

Besides, it was probably Andi, calling me up with some randomness like she always did. Once she actually called to tell me she saw a squirrel dart out of a garbage can with a whole piece of chicken dangling from its mouth.

I sat up. "Hold on Chris, I'm sorry." I opened my phone, ignoring the screen that shows you the number. "What is it, Andi?"

"Andi? This ain't Andi! Shanda, where were you?"

Uh-oh.

"Roy, I'm sorry, I had to go print off a paper I forgot about, one thing led to another—"I didn't even realize I was saying this in front of Chris, who probably thought I was the most awesome thing ever. 

"Shanda, you let me down. Everybody else here has their girlfriends all over 'em, and yo ass is lying about papers and shit."

"Look, I'm sorry! But—" just as I was about to go in on him for all the dirt he'd done to me, I saw Chris, looking up at me, glaring, and I rolled my eyes. "I'll call you back, okay?"

Roy scoffed on the other end. "Don't even bother." He hung up.

I dropped my phone and held my face. "Chris, I'm so sorry about that."

He sat all the way up. "Your boyfriend, right?"

I closed my eyes, mad at myself for lying. "Yes."

Chris laughed and then stood up. "I knew you were too good to be true. I'm just glad this happened now rather than three months down the line."

I stood up too, not even caring about my phone. 

"No Chris, I'm sorry. It's just, we're having so many issues right now—"

Chris stuffed his hands in his pockets. 

"Roshanda," he demanded, "don't worry about it. But if you don't mind, I don't like girls who play games. I thought you understood that, but I guess not. And frankly, I was really digging you. But after this, I don't know. I'm not an asshole, I don't wanna be one, but girls like you are making it really hard for me not to be."

Damn. He basically called me a trifling ho in so many words. And what was worse is that he felt so bad, I could see it all over his face.

Chris flashed the peace sign. "See ya." He walked off. 

I'm standing in the middle of the quad thinking, what the fuck did I just do to myself? I had just fucked up two relationships, that's what. Gawd, I was so stupid.

And on top of all that, the moon retreated into the clouds, so I couldn't find my phone, which was in the grass still. It was late, and if I stayed around, I feared being raped. So I had to walk my phoneless ass back to my dorm accompanied by a security guard. 

Ugh.



You've Been Flirting Again Ch. 03



I handed Andi her phone back after I completed my latest make-up text to Roy, sliding it across the table, slumped over my cheese fries.

Andi went through her phone. I knew she was checking to see what I said. 

"Oh my God, give it back!" I reached for it, but she held it up, and read, "Miss you too, Roy-Roy. Can't wait to see you at the frat party this weekend." Andi looked at me, giving me that "Girl, I feel sorry for you" look.

She sighed and dipped another French fry into her tin of ketchup. She worked at the food court, and right now she was on break, so we always met up and talked for an hour. Right now it was pretty empty, but in an hour, there'd be an influx of students. It was apple pie day, and I swear, the cooks put crack in that shit because it was delish.

My head was resting on my hand, propped up on the table. "Don't sigh. Just please, don't sigh."

Andi frowned. "Well I can't speak, so I have to do something. I can't believe he'd just ignore you for like four days. Now he's all apologetic? Has he ever ignored you this long?"

Come to think of it, no. She made a good point.

I shook my head. "No. No, actually," I sat up completely because this was completely novel. "Oh my God, what if he cheated on me." I didn't even need to phrase it as a question. It seemed like fact.

Andi put the fry she was about to devour back down. "Possibility. I mean, he wouldn't even respond to you on Facebook and you told him that you lost your phone."

Roy was cheating on me. I knew it. He'd found some big booty skank and they were probably off somewhere during those four days having nasty, sweaty, monkey sex. 

Gross.

My life was ass. Most of my homework was due tomorrow. My phone was missing. Chris would never talk to me again, and Roy was off fucking Nicki Minaj in my absence.

I let my head fall to the table. Andi tapped me. "Umm, are you okay?"

Muffled audio and all, I replied, "You got a knife? If you do, can you just shove it through my head?"

Andi scoffed. "Girl, chill out. And get off that dirty ass table, I didn't clean it yet."

I sat up. She reached over and straightened my hair out. "It's gonna be okay. Just stay away from Chris while you're still with Roy. I can't believe you made out with him."

Sadly, I nodded. "He's such a good kisser, too. But I fucked that up, he'll probably never talk to me again."

Andi frowned. "He only knew you for a day!"

"Girl," I breathed, my arms on the table, "We clicked hard. Real hard. And he knew it. I haven't had so much in common with another person since Roy." Almost whining, I added, "He said I was cute."

Andi laughed. "Look, you reported your phone missing, it'll turn up. Even if you didn't, you deactivated it, and you can get another one. If you're sick of Roy, break up with him. If you want Chris, apologize. It's not that hard. You just don't know what you want."

She was totally right. I had a habit of making things harder than they were. Roy was being a dick, all I had to do was cut him loose. But it wasn't that easy when my feelings were still vested in him. 

However, if I was really into Chris, and he made me forget about him, even for a few hours, was something there? And if something was there, and it was that easy for me to not care about Roy, maybe he had staying power?

Andi finished up her fries, balling up a napkin and tossing it on her crumb-littered plate. She checked her watch. "I gotta go clock back in. But in the meantime, check the lost and found or something. You need your phone."

I stood up as well, straightening out my full length skirt. She gave me a hug before she turned on her heels. I turned around and began to leave, but then Andi yelled my name.

I turned around. "What is it?"

She came up to me, clutching her phone and reading something on it. Then she said, "It's Chris. I thought you deactivated it."

Apparently, I didn't. My heart skipped a beat. I stammered, "Huh? Uh, what?"

Andi held the phone up and showed me the text. I read aloud, "Hey Roshanda, its Chris. I found your phone buried in the quad last night. If you want it back come to my dorm or URBN between 3 and 4, on my break."

Andi looked at me and chuckled. "Well, that's one problem solved, huh?" She texted him saying I'd be at URBN soon.

It was 3:15. Walking to URBN wouldn't take me long. But I'd still have to get over the initial shock of seeing him after me and Roy made up.

On the way there, I passed some black girl with a really huge ass, a bad weave, and those unforgivable boot/flip-flop hybrids that were in hella demand at every beauty supply back home. 

Wonder if Roy smashed that.

I couldn't just assume he cheated just because we had no communication process, but it was fishy. He knows where I live. We have Facebook. He has Andi's number. It wasn't like it was damn near impossible to get a hold of me.

I pushed open the door and looked around. Cut Copy was blasting one of my favorite songs from Zonoscope. 

I didn't see Chris inside, but I saw this cute little dress on sale for only $10, so I bought that and then went back to the task at hand. 

While I was on the way out, I saw someone out of the window, past the uber-stylish mannequins, sort of loitering around the store, looking effortlessly cool in his black Vans and gray jeans. 

I already knew it was him. Quickly, I left out. He was smoking a cigarette, black Ray Bans perched coolly on his face. Again, I was enamored by that tattoo on his arm. I never got a chance to ask about it.

He saw me and waved me over lazily. I came to him.

"Hi."

Chris blew out smoke. "Hey."

Silence. Really awkward silence. He nodded up to a guy who waved at him from across the street.

He dug into his pocket and handed me my Samsung. "There ya go."

I grabbed it and squeezed. "Thank you."

Again, more silence. I couldn't take this anymore.

"Chris, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that, and I shouldn't have lied to you."

He hunched his shoulders. "Shit happens," he continued smoking and added, "I shouldn't have liked you so quickly, anyway."

No! Like me! Love me! 

"No, if you liked me, you obviously had a reason to."

He smirked. "Just like if you lied to me about not having a boyfriend, you had a reason to."

Touche. 

I looked down. We both had on Vans, except mine were cherry red. 

"Look, I don't want us to not talk. We have way too much in common for us to not be friends."

Chris finally put that damn cancer stick down, smushing it with the toe of his sneaker. "You're right. You're absolutely right. We shouldn't have moved so fast."

"Right. So um, we moved too fast and we should have just been friends first. Therefore, we should just stay friends." 

Back in high school, my heart twitched a little whenever a guy I had a crush on said that he just wanted to be friends. I'd been in the friend zone with every crush until Roy. It was shitty. Like, why can't the quirky black chick be the hot and sexy lover too? Why does she always have to be relegated to 'oh that's just my friend?'

And here I was, in it with Chris, because of my own stupid ass.

Chris nodded in agreement. "Exactly. I don't wanna stop hanging out with you at all." He extended a hand. "Friends?"

No. I wanted him. I wanted him as more than a friend. I wanted to be his super awesome super smexy girlfriend he couldn't get enough of. I wanted us to have sex for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I wanted him to strum me like a guitar and make music out of my moans.

But instead, I grabbed his hand and shook. His handshake was firm. "Friends." I smiled and, so did he. We had small-chatted for a few. Because music was our bond, he said my homework was to go home and listen to Animal Collective's Merriweather Post Pavilion. I'd never heard of them. In return, he had to listen to James Blake. 

After I finished talking to Roy—he didn't even ask how I got my phone back—I got right on my pseudo homework when I was supposed to be doing the real stuff. 

Animal Collective was some weird shit. By the time I'd finished "Summertime Clothes," however, I was hooked. And surprisingly, Panda Bear, one of the members, was freaking adorable! Usually, only ugly people were capable of making good music. 

Don't believe me? Google Thom Yorke. 

My real homework was due the next day, and I was seriously spacing. I found their band on Facebook while I was listening to my illegally downloaded CD, and was ridiculously sprung. Chris was sexy in every picture. The few pictures he had with other girls, won't lie, made me a bit jealous, but it was my fault we couldn't progress.

When the CD finished—pure excellence, every single track—I finished my homework, although it took me until three in the morning. I was lying in bed, unable to sleep, wishing those idiots arguing in the stairwell would shut the fuck up and realize that neither Justin Bieber nor Joe Jonas was hot.

The noise quelled, but my sleeplessness hadn't. Chris wouldn't escape my mind. He was smoking today, and I literally could not erase that image of him taking a drag and blowing smoke like a pro.

He was so badass yet not. It was the sexiest contradiction.

So while I was laying in bed, I wanted to pretend Chris was there with me. I caressed my thighs, imagining his strong, manly hands all over me. I stuck my hands under my old Joy Division tee, picturing Chris's warm body planting kisses on my neck, while he fondled my tits and pinched my nipples. 

He'd nibble my ear tell me how sexy I was, that my brown skin was beautiful, and that my round ass was turning him on. Then he'd leave one hand to grab my tit, and the other to slide between my legs and get me off.

Chris would whisper how wet I was as he used his index finger to play with my pussy. I tickled my clit, then the hood, and went down to the hole, shoving two fingers in and out, my moans on the brink of uncontrollable while I played with myself. I was licking my lips, teasing my nipples, and fucking myself good, pretending Chris was.

Soon as he got me off, he'd pick me up and throw me on his dick so I could ride him, watching his face as we did it.

But of course, I can't simulate that because of obvious reasons.

When I was done cumming, I sighed. Nothing worse than imagining you had the real thing even though you didn't. I could pretend Chris was my boyfriend all I wanted, pretend he was finger-fucking me and loving me. But he wasn't. 

Two days later, I was sitting in the frozen yogurt place by myself, reading a book, and enjoying my peach bubble tea I finally decided to try. I wanted to hide from the world, so I put on my diva-like floppy black hat that made me feel like a celebrity.

Of course, some people just know who you are. When I looked up, I saw Chris walk in. He waved. I waved too, but my smile lowered a bit when I peeped the whole scene.

He had a girl with him. She was blonde, wore lots of makeup, had a bunch of piercings, and she was holding his hand. She looked all scene, like that's the type of girl he was supposed to be with.

Duh. Did I really think I had a chance?

I sipped some more of my bubble tea and dove right back into my book. It was boring, but I didn't want to look up. 

That's when Chris came over, empty-handed, wearing a red hoodie and a gray hat. He sat down. "Hey, what's going on, Roshanda?"

I sighed. "Nothing much. Just reading for class. You?"

I already had the answer: "Nothing just walking around with this girl I'm about to fuck." 

"Oh, I just got back from class, so I thought I'd hang with my friend, Cherry."

Her name was Cherry. How perfect. Chris and Cherry. It was a scene romance come true.

"Nice." I couldn't think of anything else to say, but Cherry came over, looking really cute in her lacy black dress. "Chris, I gotta go, my friend said she needs help with something in her dorm."

Chris's eyebrows furrowed. "Right now? I thought we were gonna hang."

Cherry stretched her bottom lip out. "I'm sorry, babe. I gotta go, though. I'll text you later." She bent down and kissed his cheek. "See ya." She took off fast. Man, that was quick.

Chris watched her walk away. He was totally into her. "Well, my day's shot."

I came up with, "I'm sorry, Chris. You'll hang with her again, don't worry."

All he said was "Meh."

As if the day couldn't have gotten any weirder, Roy walks in, which was a total surprise because he always said how much he hated frozen yogurt, that it was "bitch food," apparently.

Well, I couldn't exactly ignore him, because he'd think I came here just to see Chris. I waved him over. "Roy!"

He looked up, seeming shocked as hell, but he came over. God, I missed the days of his fitted jeans. His were all baggy, and he was wearing some God-awful Wiz Khalifa tee. Eeeew!!!!

"Hey, boo." He kissed me and scooted me over, not even asking me to. "Whatchu wearing to the party, you know?"

Roy was ignoring Chris. I looked at him, then leaned my head over so he'd notice the other guy who was sitting there.

"That's my friend, Chris." Roy looked at him, and after sizing him up, said, "What up, brah?"

Chris nodded up as well, realizing he would not get a handshake from him. "Nice shirt, I love Wiz Khalifa."

Totally ignoring Chris, Roy went right back to that damn costume party for the frat. They held one every year. Me and Roy were going as a famous couple, but we didn't know which one to be.

"I was thinking Marilyn Monroe or Nancy Spungeon." I put my book down and slurped the rest of my bubble tea, still hating that Chris was being ignored. 

"Who the fuck is Nancy Spungeon?"

Chris answered, "Sid Vicious' girlfriend." Roy looked at him, seeming surprised that he would even speak, and then turned back to me. "I thought we were gonna be Jay-Z and Beyonce."

"Roy, you know how many people are gonna be Jay-Z and Beyonce?"

"So what? We're gonna be the best one, though."

"You don't wanna stand out? Be original? Not look like everyone else?"

"Who the fuck cares about that shit? Nobody pays attention to you unless you look like everyone else. Damn, Shanda, you always have to throw that original bullshit in my face, just go along with it."

Chris obviously felt bad, because he put in, "You should be glad that she doesn't wanna be like everyone else. You shot her down so quickly, you should at least hear her out."

Roy looked at him again, then back at me. "Shanda, who the fuck is this white boy, anyway?"

The one I woulda left your ass for if I didn't fuck it all up, I wanted to say. 

"Chris is my friend, and you better respect him if you wanna talk to me."

Roy sat back and finally shut the hell up. Because he was being silent, me and Chris talked for a few about the music we exchanged. While I was talking, Roy got a text. I noticed that as soon as he got it, he looked around, and then he got up. "Bye, boo. I gotta meet the guys real quick."

I frowned. "Whoa, whoa, you just got here!"

He didn't say anything. He just left.

Chris looked at me. I looked at him. 

"Your boyfriend's a fucking douchebag."

I sighed and looked down. "I know."

"So what are you gonna do about it? You don't deserve that."

I didn't. I deserved Chris.



You've Been Flirting Again Ch. 04



To everyone who left those comments about the negativity of black women--the divide between the "hipsters" and the "ratchet" ones--I didn't mean to convey black women in that light. It was not intentional. I didn't want to make Roshanda look really judgemental, I was merely having fun telling a story about a non-stereotypical black woman with a dilemma. Read or don't read, but I will continue writing what I like and believe in. :)

*

My lips finally parted from Roy's, resounding in a small smack. 

We were in one of the few bathrooms of the frat building, bass pounding throughout the house. The party was on, and the cops weren't happy about it at all, but until something crazy happened, they couldn't break it up.

Every time the step frat had a party, it was usually shut down. Someone always got into a fight or decided to take their drunken antics outside. 

Didn't exactly help that it was a black frat, either.

Because I was a fucking idiot and let him control the costume choice, I was Beyonce, and he was Jay-Z. I had my ostentatious blonde curly wig on with my black leotard, robotic glove, and nude tights. Roy wore a fitted Yankees cap with a black t-shirt and jeans. He didn't even try. He looked hella normal.

And just like I predicted, there were many other Jayonces floating around.

I smiled at Roy. "This is nice. I like our private moments," I gushed, not realizing where I was and that it really wasn't grounds for mush-mush.

Roy chuckled, holding me close. "Glad you came, girl." 

I thought we were having a decent moment, but as I was enjoying just laying on him, he started to try to shove my head down to his dick.

I broke free. "What are you doing?"

Roy frowned. "Whatchu think?"

This was really getting on my nerves.

"Roy, why can't we just make out and be a normal couple? Why do you have to ruin everything?"

Roy groaned. "Shanda, look, it's no big deal. I—"

I snapped. This was pissing me off. "It's a big fucking deal to me, Roy! What happened to you? You turned into everything that I hate and I'm sick of it!"

Silence. All I heard was the pounding bass from a Lil' B song. 

That was Roy's cue to leave. He laughed to himself, covering his face like I didn't even know he was mocking me, and made like he was going for the door.

"You cool off. I'ma go find Trey and Rock."

Trey and Rock = dumb and fucking dumber, AKA his friends. But I knew that was a lie. He was gonna disappear and leave me wondering where he was.

"You a damn lie. I know you're not about to go find them. Worst fucking boyfriend ever. I'm mad, and you leaving."

He looked at me before he left. I said, "Someone else is gonna get me if you don't stop, Roy."

That's when he smirked. I can't believe what he said next.

"Roshanda, nobody wants you but me. You really think you gonna get some white guy to commit to you? Ain't no indie black guys who actually date black girls, and white dudes? They don't like black girls, even if you ain't ghetto. It's never gonna happen. I'm all you got, and all you gonna get. Your fetish is gonna be just that. A fucking fetish." He slammed the door behind him. I was left, looking stupid, in my skanky ass leotard that cost me a grip. Fucking sleazy American Apparel, charging me $40 for what was basically a swimsuit.

I wanted to cry and scream and break the mirror and just fall to my feet. I didn't wanna be alone. I really didn't. Part of me felt like he was right. Even if I wanted Chris, what if it just sex? What if he really didn't intend on being me? He was going with that Cherry bitch anyways, he didn't want my black ass.

My bottom lip was quivering. There was a chunk in my throat that I only experienced having when I was a kid after I'd just gotten my ass whooped by my mom. I had to leave. This was stupid. 

I'd just find Andi and tell her that I needed to be alone. Unless of course, she found someone. She wanted to go because she had a crush on three of the guys in the frat. Knowing her pretty ass, she was probably dancing with one of them right now. Andi was gorgeous.

I was trying really hard not to let tears fall. When I opened the door, I had to inch myself out because the place was so packed, probably more packed than before. When I was out enough where I could actually move, I spotted Andi grinding against this Chris Brown-looking kid with blonde hair, holding a drink in one hand, the other placed on her stomach, his arm around her.

Okay, no need to cockblock. I'd just walk home. 

Still holding the tears, I bumped into someone. 

"Sorry," I muttered, not even looking up to see who it was. 

"Roshanda!"

I looked up. Dammit, Chris. Why were you everywhere?

I couldn't look straight at him. Why the fuck was he so hot? Those snake bite piercings were looking extra scrumptious.

"Oh, hey!" I sounded normal, I think. However, Chris didn't think so.

"You look nice," he gave me the once over, but then he seemed concerned. "You don't look happy, though. Roy?"

I looked away, still trying to will the tears from falling and ruining my makeup. "How could you tell?"

He shrugged. "Because whenever you're sad, it's because of him."

Ouch.

The DJ cued up Flocka's "No Hands," and I rolled my eyes. The crowd went crazy. A bad mood and a bad soundtrack to it was just awful. Whenever I got into shitty moods, I'd crank Radiohead and sad Usher songs. I could've gone for hearing "Karma Police" at that moment.

Chris touched my forearm, like he was about to lead me somewhere, but he was looking around. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, leaning in because the music got louder.

I yelled, "No. I'm just gonna go home. Why are you here?"

Chris responded, "I think Cherry's here. I overheard her on the phone saying she might come here. I think she's screwing around on me."

I didn't get it. Were they together? Didn't ask though, because it didn't matter. "Oh. Well, you go look for her. I'm gonna go. . . go listen to music and do my homework or something." I was about to leave, but Chris grabbed me.

"No, no, stay. I don't want you walking at night by yourself."

He was sweet, but I know he didn't want me bothering him.

"Chris, you're looking for Cherry, you don't need me tagging along. I'll call a security guard or something."

Chris declined. "No. Stay with me. Please?"

It was hard to reject those gorgeous eyes. But did I really wanna be around when they reunited and they started caking?

Caking: Verb. To excessively engage in public displays of affection, much to the chagrin of single, lonely, or dumped bystanders who are annoyed thoroughly.

"Chris, I—"

Before I could finish, wiping away a tear that escaped, he frowned and keyed in on something across the room. I turned around. He pointed ahead.

"I swear, I just saw her."

I smiled. "Okay. You found her. I'm leaving."

Chris sucked his teeth. "Roshanda, I'm sorry, just stay with me for a second."

I groaned. "Chris, I don't—" I looked ahead. Roy was running up the stairs as well. 

Was he. . .No. No fucking way.

"I just saw Roy!"

Chris mashed his lips together, visibly pissed. "Come on." He grabbed my hand and led me through the party, through tacky ass costumes. I counted five Nicki Minajs, a few girls with red hair apparently trying to be Rihanna, and a few Lady Gagas. I swear, the guys put in zero effort, because they all looked normal. However, I had to hand it to the brother who went all out and put on Trojan garb, complete with matching hat.

Me and Chris headed upstairs, and before I knew it, he was knocking on doors. So was I. "Roy! Roy! I know you're in one of these rooms!"

Chris grabbed at a doorknob and it opened. When he looked inside, he screamed, "What the fuck!"

I walked over. "What is. . ."

Roy was in there, alright. And so was Cherry. She was caught like a deer in the headlights, on her knees, Roy, with his legs spread, sitting on the edge of the bed.

I was speechless. So was Chris.

"Wait, it's not what it looks like," Roy tried to explain, motioning for Cherry to get away from him. 

Chris walked in. I don't know if he whooped Roy's ass or if he just argued with Cherry, but I knew I had to leave. I felt beyond stupid.

As I was crying, pushing through people who wouldn't move, I thought about everything. I was an idiot. Pure and simple. I let it get this far.

I could've just dumped him. No, I had to be that stupid emotionally fragile bitch who wanted to see if things would get better. Whenever they went South, things usually stayed South. And I had to learn the hard way. Plus, Roy was right. I was the weird bitch in high school, and he was the only one who got it. Now that he was gone and Chris was probably not into me anymore, I was destined to be lonely for the rest of my college years. Maybe even my life.

The thought of nobody else wanting me was what was making me cry the most. I'm sure everyone thought I was crazy, but I didn't care. Like they wanted me anyways.

I was finally outside, still in that skanky ass leotard. I hugged myself as I speedily click-clacked on the pavement in my heels, which I was two seconds away from taking off. I snatched the stupid yaki weave off my head and flung it over my shoulder, along with the wig cap. Fuck you, Beyonce.

Because my emotional brain took over my logical brain, I didn't realize I was in the middle of nowhere on the campus. My phone was in my bra, so I pulled it out and tried to call for an escort, while heading back towards the party, where civilization was. 

It ringed a few times before I heard the receptionist. "Hi, I need—"

I was pushed to the ground. My phone hit the pavement, the battery flying out. Some guy kicked my ribs. Hard.

"Stop it! Take my phone!" I held my hands up, trying my hardest to protect myself.

He yelled, "I don't want your phone, bitch! I want your pussy!"

Oh. My. GAWD. This wasn't happening.

The guy was at least three hundred pounds. We're talking football player. He choked me, slapped me, and got on top, trying hard to rip my leotard off while he spread my legs.

"No!" I kept yelling repeatedly. 

"Shut the fuck up!" He choked me while he unzipped his pants. Just before he pulled his dick out, someone came up behind him with a huge, oblong object and cracked him over the head with it, hard enough to knock him out, but not kill him.

I stood up quickly. Chris dropped the branch and grabbed me, dragging me away. The guy was out cold, splattered on the ground.

It was dark out. I guess that's what gave him the balls to do what he did, because the fucking party wasn't far away. Anyone could've seen him do that if he was only a street or two over.

I was hurt emotionally and physically. My ribs fucking hurt so bad. My neck was throbbing. I was only wearing one shoe. I barely heard Chris on his phone, reporting the incident, I was so shaken. 

This night was a disaster, and I kept feeling like it was my fault. I felt like if I had just manned up and broken it off with him earlier, this wouldn't have happened. I fell victim to love, and how blind it is.

"You okay, Roshanda?" 

I didn't say anything. When he saw that I was practically limping, Chris picked me up. He didn't even do it fireman style. He lifted me and carried me like it was our honeymoon or something.

A few moments later, I was in Chris' bed. His side of the dorm was lined with posters of everybody. Kurt Cobain, the Beatles, Soundgarden, Metallica. He had two guitars on their respective stands by the stereo system with a billion CDs scattered around it. It was messy, but then again, all guys were. His dormmate's side was cleaner, but his bed was unmade and there was a heap of clothes on top.

I assumed Chris went to the bathroom, because he was gone. I know I couldn't have blacked out because we were only walking for a few minutes. Or rather, him carrying me. Damn, he was strong. He looked scrawny. I was gonna take a wild guess that he wrestled.

My ribs were still hurting. I propped myself up, an elbow resting on his pillow, trying to see the bruise, but it hurt too much, and I'd have to get naked. I let out a painful groan. Just as I did, Chris came back in, with a plastic bag full of ice, some cotton balls, and alcohol.

"You're gonna have to take that off so I can get to the bruise," he advised, closing the door behind him. "Here, lemme get you a shirt."

I watched Chris walk over to the dresser before he set the stuff down on his nightstand. Cargo shorts, a black t-shirt, and his checkerboard Van slip-ons. That look was always a turn-on to me. Roy used to dress like that before he decided it was too "white boy-ish."

He closed the dresser, then held up an oversized Gallows t-shirt. "You like them?"

I shook my head. "Never heard of em." He handed me the shirt, and I got undressed under the covers, then slipped the shirt on. Chris stared at me the whole time. Seriously, the whole time. Like he was fascinated or something.

Glad that I'd put on underwear even underneath the leotard—and boyshorts, at that—I lifted up my shirt and saw the humongoid bruise that was covering the right side of my ribs.

"Fuck!" I let out, staring at it.

Chris grabbed the ice pack. "Don't worry. We just have to apply some ice to it. Lay back, Ro." 

Ro? I smiled a little as I did what he said. Laying back on the pillow, I braced myself for the cold that was coming. I breathed in through my teeth as it hit my skin. Chris traced a finger around my lip. I thought it was random, that he was just doing it because he liked me, but then I licked my lip. I tasted blood.

Chris dabbed some alcohol on a cotton ball and lightly tapped it on my cut. Then he put a little glob of Neosporin on it. When he was finished, he shoved a strand of hair that escaped my ponytail out of my face.

"All better." He smiled. I smiled because he smiled. 

Chris held the pack up against my bruise while I lay in bed, thankful that he saved me from being raped.

"Chris, I owe you. You saved my life."

He scoffed. "I saved more than your life. But you're welcome. And you don't owe me."

I sighed. Part of me wanted to cry some more, but I didn't have enough energy to. "Chris, tonight really sucked."

He nodded, still crouched beside me. "I agree." While he lovingly stared into my eyes, he asked, "Do you wanna talk?"

I managed a sly, yet heartbroken smile. "Only if you do."

Chris hunched his shoulders. "I always wanna talk to you."

"You first."

He cleared his throat. "Well for starters, Roy is a total asshole. You know he actually got mad at me for what happened?"

I wasn't surprised. "He has a tendency to blame others when he fucks up."

"He even tried to fight me. I was so not having that shit. I pushed him, and Cherry had to try her hardest to not get him to hit me back. She didn't even care that I was pissed. So then I saw you were gone and looked for you."

I had to ask. "Well, I don't get it. Were you and Cherry dating?"

Chris looked away. He was sad. "We weren't together, but we were definitely trying to see where it'd go. And we both agreed that we wouldn't see other people in the meantime. To be honest, I thought it was certain. But I guess not. Fucking skank."

Although I wanted to laugh, I was in too much pain entirely. I just lay back. Chris was still there, stroking my chin, neck, and any other area he thought was in pain. But could he stroke my heart?

"He told me nobody else wants me. He said he's the only one who will ever find me attractive and who will actually want me."

Chris scoffed. "Woman, you are fucking hot."

I smiled. "Thanks. He also said white boys ain't interested in black girls, even if they aren't ghetto."

His eyebrows raised. "I don't care. I know that's not everyone, but I've seen a few couples like that and they seem functional. Ro, what kind of guy says that to his girl?"

It was true. He got away with way too much. I needed to end it already. But was it really necessary when he already cheated on me?

We talked for about an hour about the party, our stupid mates, relationships, and of course, music.

I didn't realize it was almost midnight until I looked at the clock. My bruise was cold as hell. He had been holding the ice against it the whole night. Chris was so sweet and caring.

"You wanna sleep here, or should I walk you back?"

I blew a raspberry. "I don't feel like walking. I'll stay here with you."

Chris started smiling, like he was happy I said that. "Okay." He removed the ice pack. Then, he did something I didn't expect. 

He bent down even further and started kissing my bruise, ever so gently, rubbing his lips across it. He kissed every inch of it, looking up at me a few times. The last time he kissed it, I heard him rip away from my skin like he didn't want to stop. 

"Better?" he asked, smiling.

I sighed. "Oh, Chris. You are just too much sometimes."

The lamp was still on. Chris told me to get up so he could get in first. Now how did he know I liked to be the little spoon?

Chris wrapped himself carefully around me while we got settled in. I was so comfortable in his arms.

"This is nice," I whispered, loving his embrace.

"It is. Are you sure you're okay? You need anything?"

I declined. "No," I turned to him. "You've done enough, Chris. Thank you." I kissed his cheek, and his hugged me tighter, still mindful of the bruise. "Anytime, Ro."

Ro. I kinda liked that.

While we were in bed, we talked. A lot. I learned why he started playing guitar—his first concert was Soundgarden at the ripe age of twelve, and after seeing Chris Cornell play, he was inspired to play himself—the extent of his shitty relationships, and his tattoo.

It was a large piece of art that contained a collection of stuff that inspired him. Guitar picks portrait, the guy holding his head in The Scream painting, a picture of his dad, lyrics to a Soundgarden song, and other stuff. It was like everything that made him who he was all on his arm. He was so intense.

"But enough about me. What about you?" 

"Chris, there's nothing that interesting about me. I don't have any tats. I didn't have an epiphany when I was twelve that helped me discover my calling. And I sure as hell didn't meditate on the Egyptian pyramids." 

He laughed. "Ro, you're totally interesting. I do not talk to boring people, you can ask my roomie. Looks kinda like a lumberjack. And he has a ZZ Top beard."

After a few moments of silence, I noticed Chris was rubbing my arm up and down. His hand inched further down until it grabbed my hand. He laced his fingers into mine.

"I really like you, Roshanda."

I played in Chris's sexy hair. "I really like you too, Chris. I just hope we're not too fucked up to see where this could go."

He smirked. "I hope so, too. Honestly, I would jump into something with you in a heartbeat. But I know you're gonna need time when you and Roy break up, so I won't be that guy to rush you."

He was just too sweet! There had to be a catch. 

Did he not have a dick? Was it just, like, a medical rarity?

"Chris, you have to be one of the most caring guys I've ever met. If anything, I feel like I'd be waiting on you. I told you, I've been really unlucky when it comes to guys. Roy was the first and only person who ever liked me for real. I hated high school because I always felt like I was never enough, for those guys, like they always preferred the total opposite of me. I was always too weird, not black enough, not light-skinned enough, not anything enough. So it scares me that you like so much because I feel like it's gonna go wrong eventually."

He didn't say anything. Instead, he kissed me.

"Roshanda, I would never lead you on. Don't worry. Your love would be safe with me."

As cute as it was, I had to laugh out loud. 

He frowned. "What's so funny?"




You've Been Flirting Again Ch. 04



I hit him. "Motherfucker, you quoting Bon Iver."

Chris thought really hard, and then his eyes widened. "Oh! You said you didn't know anything about him, though!"

"Well," I touched his face. "I do a lot for the boys I like. One thing is listening to the bands they talk about."

Chris blushed. Next thing I know, he grabbed the back of my head and we started going at it. He was still careful about my bruise, but he did it with such passion. I wanted to kiss him all night. To think, just a few hours ago, I had gotten cheated on and almost raped.

Just as we stopped momentarily, his roommate's keys were opening the door. When he came in, he was with a giggly blonde, who was holding his hand. Fucking couples.

The bearded, Iron & Wine-looking roomie looked at us. Chris didn't move away from me, loosen his grip, or act like he didn't know me. He kept stroking my arm, kissing me lightly, even while the guy was there.

"Chris! Oh my God, what's this?"

He replied, "What's it look like, Dan?"

Dan laughed behind his hand. "Hello, Chris's friend."

I waved.

"Well, I guess we're gonna have to go elsewhere tonight."

Chris nodded. "Yeah, you sexiled me the other day, now it's my turn."

Chris's girlfriend laughed. "Okay, then. You guys have fun." She unzipped her hoodie and followed Dan out of the door.

"Bye Chris! Bye Chris's friend!"

I chuckled. That was totally random. But it was super thoughtful of Chris to want the room to himself while we were together.

"Well obviously, we won't have sex. We can do this all night if you want, babe."

I leaned forward, reaching his lips, sort of gushing because he called me babe. My lips grazed against his, but then his warm, moist tongue started dancing with mine. He bit my bottom lip and tugged at it. Then he sucked on it before he continued kissing, shoving aside that loose strand that escaped my ponytail when I had to put on a wig cap.

"Turn off the light, Ro."

I reached over and shut the lamp off. We continued making out, my body turned to his. I could feel his hard-on through his cargo shorts. He indeed had a dick.

And it was hard as hell for me not to touch it. I just wanted to caress it. I got off on seeing that I made a white guy hard. Andi always told me I turned heads a lot but just didn't see it, but I didn't believe her because I never saw it myself. But to see that this guy who I liked was totally turned on by me, moaning as we kissed, it definitely made me aroused, too.

"Your lips are soooo soft, Ro."

"You're a good kisser," I returned, still playing in his hair. 

He moved down a bit further to my neck. Delicately but passionately, he sucked on my neck, kissing and nudging, listening to my moans. He was totally into it, and so was I. 

He had moved up now, kissing my chin, then sticking his tongue back into my mouth so we could keep making out. I let my hands explore his burgeoning abs under his shirt, and his soft moans and deep laughs as he heavily breathed, still exploring my mouth.

"So fucking sexy," he breathed, licking my spiderbites. "I have a weakness for hot girls with piercings, babe." His voice was so sexy and low. 

We kept going at it. I kissed his abs, and then I discovered he had pierced nipples.

Swoon.

I was so tempted to suck on them, but I didn't know if he was into that, and I didn't want to send him the wrong signals. Eventually, we figured we had to stop because if we continued, we'd end up doing something.

Like fucking.

So he held me while we went to sleep, whispering stupid shit in my ear—South Park quotes, the 'same question three times' speech by Will Ferrell from Austin Powers 2, random shit. I was laughing, even though it slightly hurt, but I didn't care. I was in the company of a boy who liked me, wanted to fuck me, and wanted to be with me all, at once.

And that shit, as Incubus so eloquently put it, was a "three-fold utopian dream."

The next day, Chris walked me back to my dorm. We held hands. Even though it was early, there was still a lot of people around, and I caught stares from some of them. Yes, we dug each other. And?

He lent me some of his shorts so I could have something to leave in, without looking like I'd just done the ridiculous walk of shame, even though my leotard was crumpled up in my hand, along with my shoes. I walked barefoot and didn't even care.

When we arrived at my door, Chris still picking the crust from his eyes because it was only ten, but we woke up at the same time. It was cute to see him so groggy. He looked high, sans the red eyes.

I leaned against the door, my key in hand. He put his arms around me and our foreheads touched. "You feel any better?"

Of course I felt better! Chris was right here. And he was all over me, once again.

"Yes." I kissed him and nuzzled in his chest. 

"Thank you." He rubbed my back. "Anytime, Ro."

I kissed him again. I loved his thin lips. I liked knowing that they were bigger than his, because I could tell he liked them, always sucking on them and stuff.

"You like kissing me, huh?" 

I nodded. "Of course." Someone walked past. 

Apparently she went to the party too, because her Rihanna wig was all over her head, and her outfit was totally ripped to shreds. Someone was doing the walk of shame, alright.

"Okay, I'm gonna go. I'll see you later. We should hang. Let's go get lunch with Andi or something."

Reason #57 why I liked Chris: he wanted to get to know my friends.

"Okay, bye Chris." One more kiss and then I opened the door, eyeing him seductively before I closed the door. 

In the movies, when a girl had a satisfying date, she rested on the door, playing back every moment from the kiss to the looks, to the flirty gestures. I was such a hopeless romantic, studying corny romantic comedies, wishing to be the protagonists in those movies. I wanted my best friend to fall for me like Gordo did for Lizzie. I wanted Judd Nelson to proudly walk across the football field with my earring in his ear, defiantly pumping a fist in the air. I wanted Paul Rudd to tell me I was beautiful and kiss me at the top of the stairs after taking up for me because some guy thought I was an idiot.

Well, you know, minus the whole 'he's my stepbrother' thing.

And I felt like I had it. I was beaming, dropping my shit to the floor to take another nap before I dove into my homework that was due Monday. But I heard a ruckus on the other end. I put my face to the peephole to see Chris and Roy.

What the hell?



You've Been Flirting Again Ch. 05



Roy was holding a bouquet of flowers. Not only that, but he dressed in a way that I guess was supposed to impress me. Cargo shorts like Chris, a hoodie, and his beat-up old Vans.

Are you fucking kidding me?

"Oh, so now that you fucked up, you wanna try to win her back?"

Roy yelled, "Look, this is none of your business. Now go somewhere because I need to talk to her."

"You're too late! Why do you pick now to come and see her? Do you even know what happened to her last night?"

Attempting to shove past Chris, Roy went, "Yeah yeah, she caught me. Now I'm bout to fix it, so move."

Chris pushed him, and Roy dropped his bouquet. When Roy came at him and they started to tussle, I knew I had to intervene.

I opened the door. They were on the ground just going at it. Roy had punched Chris in the stomach, but Chris used his wrestler moves to get on top of Roy. They somehow regained their footing and all sorts of punches were thrown.

"Stop it! You guys, cut it out!"

They kept going. I saw blood. Both of them were bleeding, and Chris's shirt was riding up while Roy was choking Chris.

"Stop!" I knew better than to get between two rowdy boys fighting, so I was glad when security had shown up. Right when they did, Alisa, our floor's RA, opened the door.

"Cut. It. Out!" She yelled, right as the guard was breaking them up. Alisa was wrapped in her robe, hair up.

Well, the beefy security guard did his job, but my goodness, they were both looking terrible. Both had been bruised up, with bloody fists, and Chris was beet red. Roy's bouquet was destroyed in the melee. 

"I'm sorry," I began, kicking the petals out of the way, "They were fighting over me. It's all my fault. But I can assure you this won't happen again." I was looking at the guard and Alisa. Alisa looked mad upset. But then again, it was early on a Sunday. 

She folded her arms. "It's early. Other people are trying to sleep. If I keep hearing noise, Roshanda, they won't get kicked out of housing, you will for inviting this nonsense into the hall." She punctuated her point by commanding the guard to take them both away. Chris stared at me, wondering if I'd stop him.

"No, wait. I just need to talk to one of them." Roy was breathing heavily. I looked at his chest heaving. We definitely needed to have words. 

"Him." I pointed. "Just let me talk to him in my room and then I'll let him go."

"That's right, you bitch ass motherfucker. She wants me not you."

"Oh fuck you, you ignorant son of a bitch! How's your eye?"

"Motherfucker, how's yo jaw?"

"QUIET!" Alisa barked. "Take him away. Roshanda, I mean it."

I nodded. "This'll only take a minute. If any one of us loud, you can kick me out."

She rolled her eyes and closed the door behind her. 

I didn't even look back at Chris. He knew I had a job to do. This had to end once and for all. After I closed the door, Roy pinched my shirt. 

"That's his, isn't it?"

"Yeah. We didn't have sex though, if that's what you're thinking." I folded my arms.

Roy sighed. "Girl, you scared me. I thought you abandoned me for good." He came up to me, but I turned. 

He looked confused. "What?"

"Roy, do you have any idea what happened to me last night?" I looked at my feet, toenails covered in red polish.

He frowned. "I know, I know."

"What happened, then?"

Roy scoffed. "You caught me. And I know I fucked up, so—"

"No. That's not all. I almost got raped."

He looked like the wind had been knocked out of him. "What? Aww, baby no—"

"Yes, Roy. It happened. And you weren't there to save me. You didn't even come after me. You did nothing. You left me wide open for anything to happen. You abandoned me. I was all alone."

"Shanda, Chris started trying to fight me."

"Fuck Chris! You act like he was a huge obstacle! Why did he come after me instead of you? I mean, I know you fucked me over and everything, but you didn't even act like you were sorry! You acted like this whole thing was just fine and I would come running right back to you afterwards. And that stupid ass bouquet is not gonna fix what you ruined in one night."

Roy's whole face dropped. It dropped like I had never seen it before. I felt like I really got through to him.

"Plus, you come in here dressed like you used to," I waved toward his clothing. "So you only do this when I'm mad at you? Like the façade is gonna cover up the fact that you just changed?"

Roy looked down. "People change, Shanda."

"Yup. They change and they stay like that."

Silence. Roy cleared his throat and stared at me. "So you almost got raped. What happened?"

"Chris saved me. He attacked the guy and I slept at his place. He's really nice. He likes me a lot."

Roy finally put the two together. "So he's the one who's gonna get you?"

I shrugged my shoulders, feeling tears welling up. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I'll just be single until I can get over you. Maybe I'll end up with him. Maybe I'll be single for a while. But one thing's for sure. We aren't together anymore."

That statement sent Roy over the edge. 

"Nooooo, Shanda. No. No. Listen, I—No. We can't be over." He kept holding his face in his hands, and then he sat on my bed like he couldn't take it standing up.

"Roy, I'd be a fool to stay with you. You don't like who I am anymore, and I definitely don't like who you are."

"But baby, I can change!" He looked up, and I swear, he was crying.

I didn't care. 

"You already did, remember?"

When he gave me that last knowing stare, I knew us not being together shook him up. He stood and just as he was about to leave, hand resting on the doorknob, he turned around.

"I'm sorry. I really fucked this up. You the only girl who understood me. And I ruined it."

I nodded. "You did." 

Roy turned on his heels and left.

I burst into tears and settled into my bed. I'd just broken up with my first love.

Four hours later, one whole box of Kleenex, and hella self-loathing later, I finally summoned Andi over to my dorm. 

She came over, equipped with the "sad girl" arsenal. Two buckets of Chunky Monkey and chick movies.

After we inhaled about five thousand calories and bawled at Titanic—super cheesy, I know—Andi tapped into the issue.

"Okay, tell me everything."

I explained. She grabbed me and held me tight when I told her about my brush with rape. She let go once she heard me explain how I ended up in Chris's arms all night.

"Roshanda, no you didn't."

I looked away. "I was sad. And he was right there. I was lonely, depressed, and in need of comfort." She scoffed. "You're a whore."

I laughed, but she kind of had a point.

"I mean, I did cheat on him first. No, it wasn't nearly as bad as him getting a BJ from another girl, but still. I should've just ended it right away. I let it go on too far."

Andi nodded. "You have a point there," she stretched on my bed, pushing my unmade covers out of the way. "It was only a matter of time before karma bit you."

"Yep. With my luck, it'll bite me even harder and take Chris away from for good. How do I know he actually likes me? Boys are good at faking like they like you when they don't."

"Yup. I know that's right. Me and that blonde kid was clicking hard, but soon as I ask him for his number, he gets all weird. He had a girlfriend, I can just tell." She shook her head out of pity. "You never know, though. Chris seems into you."

I stared off into space, eyeing my weird psychedelic Andy Warhol pop-art poster. My life was such a mess.

"The only way I can fix this is by being alone. I've thought about it. I can't drag Chris into my life when it's a shambles. I need to focus on me. Get this homework done. Straighten up my room. Find a job like I've been putting off doing since I got here."

Andi rubbed my shoulder. "You'll be fine. But you do realize if you want to be alone, you can't expect Chris to wait for you, right?"

That one hurt. A lot. But at the same time, I couldn't be mad.

I looked at Andi. "I know. It's a very real possibility. It's also a possibility that I opened up for myself." I hunched my shoulders. "If it happens, it happens. Wasn't meant to be."

Andi gave me a hug. She whispered in my ear, "You'll be fine, Roshanda. Just be careful. You know I'm here when you need me."

I didn't run into Chris until a few days later. I'd holed myself in my room with nothing but ordered food, homework, and lots of Air, Damien Rice, and Esperanza Spalding. They were good music to do homework to.

Chris was texting me non-stop. I kept telling him I was busy, but then he'd say something cute like, "Sorry, I just can't stop thinking about you." 

When I ran into him, sitting on the quad talking to Dan, who was clutching his acoustic, my heart jumped a little. I needed to tell him that I was putting myself through a self-imposed celibacy period. It really didn't help that he was smoking, either. Even though I hated it, he looked absolutely sexy while doing so. He was even sexier in his skinny jeans and low-top black Chucks. 

Today was a bit chilly, plus I was so busy running around that I really didn't care what I looked like, so I had just thrown my hair into a messy ponytail and shimmied into my Nightmare Before Christmas hoodie. I looked like shit, but I was about to go talk to him anyway.

Soon as I came his way, he turned to me, totally ignoring Dan. Dan waved. I waved back.

"Hey you guys. What's up?"

Chris came to me and kissed me quick on the lips. He rested his hands on my shoulders. "Hey there. Nothing much, how are you?"

"I'm fine." I looked over at Dan. "Hey, I'm just gonna borrow him for a few seconds."

Dan nodded. "Totally fine. He was bugging me anyway." He ran away jokingly before Chris pretended to throw something at him. We sat down.

"What's up, Ro?"

Ugh. Stop with the pet name, I wanted to say. Deep breath. Here goes.

"Chris, you already know my stupid dilemma, right?" I almost reached out to touch the bruise on his eyebrow from his fight, but stopped myself. I wanted so badly to just take him in my arms and tell him how much I liked him in the short amount of time I knew him.

"Yeah, of course. And I'm totally ready to give you your space if you want."

I folded my hands. "That's what I wanted to talk about. I don't wanna give you the impression that I'm gonna be over this quickly. And I think it's only fair that you're allowed to see other people. I mean, I cheated on someone, even if it was just kissing. But it was still wrong. I know you like me, and trust me, I really like you too, but I'd be a complete evil bitch to try to string you along when I'm trying to get over my ex and when I have to focus on myself. As much as I want to, I can't. I can't do that. I can't do that you." 

Straightforward and honest. That was how I wanted it to be. He looked a bit disappointed, but he grabbed my hands.

"Roshanda, I like you. I like you a lot. I'm here for you whenever you need me, and I don't think you have anything to worry about."

I scoffed. "Chris, you met Cherry like two days after we kissed! You say that now, but I know you will not be single when I'm done moping. Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

The corner of Chris's mouth twitched. "Well thanks, but neither of us knows this. I mean, I'm just as unlucky with the opposite sex as you are. Were you not listening to my horrid relationship stories?"

I chuckled. "Okay, you're right. But still. I'm taking a huge risk by not jumping into anything with you right now. But it's for the best. I don't want you to think negatively about me like you did when I lied about having a boyfriend."

Chris rubbed my hands. "You need your time. I get it. But we can still talk, right?"

I smiled. "Of course. Just not as much. If I keep talking to you, I'm gonna want more, and I have to limit myself." I kept rubbing his hands, too. He kissed my hands.

"I should be really pissed at you, but I just can't be."

My bottom lip kept threatening to quiver. Why was he so good? And how come nobody wanted him? He was the perfect guy, how could he not get anyone? Why was love so ass backwards that the most fucked up people got whoever they wanted but normal, actually dateable people were always left out?

We hugged and I walked away before I started crying. I was such an idiot.

Over the next month and a half I reflected on everything. Roy, Chris, being cheated on. I occupied my time by making frequent trips to the school's library to get music—I'd become partial to Erykah Badu's entire collection, random Nirvana, and lots of Christian Rich—working my new job at the information desk, getting more of my homework done, and making a few new friends, including this Asian supermodel chick named Sonya, who just so happened to have a friend who was real tight with Chris. 

Andi ended up getting with this guy who looked like Tyler, the Creator, a member of Roy's frat. He was friends with Roy. Andi had told me that Roy would get drunk at parties and always mention me. It made me feel a little better, but at the same time, as weird as it sounded, I missed him. Of course I missed him, he was my first and longest relationship to date. And whenever I saw him walking past, holding hands with some really pretty, long-haired dark-skinned cutie, he always looked at me like he shouldn't have been doing it, but then went right back to being happy. It sort of made me feel like that was the type of girl he wanted all along, the impossibly pretty, Selita Ebanks type. Girls like them didn't have piercings, weird hair, or questionable style. They rolled out of bed with perfect hair, perfect jeans, makeup, and they had cute quirks. Like, you know, they tripped over their heels once in a blue moon. Not stupid quirks, like laughing too loud or being socially awkward.

It added to my self-deprecation mode, but I didn't let it get me down. I just trudged ahead, because being Roy, I slacked a lot. This time away from boys helped me get my priorities straight. If I got another boyfriend, I couldn't let myself slip on anything. They couldn't get in the way.

But time away from boys was lame because one department was slacking: sex! 

I hadn't had sex in damn near two months, and it was bugging the hell out of me. I actually went to Spencer's and bought a vibrator with my first paycheck. The shit was killing me. I wanted to fuck Chris so badly. I kept masturbating thinking about him and wondering how big his dick was and if he knew how to eat pussy. It was driving me mad, but I had to keep focus. That degree wasn't going to earn itself.

One day, very far into my boy fast, I stopped into the frozen yogurt place to get some yummy bubble tea. I sat in the window because I didn't feel like going all the way upstairs to use the wi-fi. I just sat, kicking my foot against the table, checking my texts before it was time to go to work.

People were ambling past, getting to their classes. The couples I saw holding hands made me want to puke. I looked back down at my cell phone and didn't bother looking up until I saw Chris walk past. He saw me and immediately stopped in.

Damn him. Damn him and his perfect timing, even though I'd barely seen him lately.

He was looking sooo damn good. Black thermal because it was cooler outside. Blue jeans and those sexy worn-in red Chucks.

"Hey, Roshanda."

I put my tea down. "Hey," I said, turning to him. "What's up?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing much. I just got done tutoring this kid."

I frowned. "You tutor?"

"Yeah. Guitar." Chris reached out and touched my hair. "I like this. You look good with streaks."

He was referring to my neon blue streaks that I'd done to my hair out of boredom. Only two, but it was good enough. I didn't wanna look like Cherry. I saw that bitch a few days ago, looking like a My Little Pony gone wrong.

"Thanks," I licked my lips. "Um, I have thirty minutes before work. Wanna go talk?"

He nodded. "Sure." 

I got up and we went outside. It was a bit chilly for my tastes, so I made sure to wear my leather jacket over my long-sleeved tee.

"What's up?"

Chris started, leaning against the window. "The usual. Playing shows, falling behind on work, finding great music." He turned to me. "How about you?"

"Well, I got a job. I'm doing better in school. Actually, I'm doing better in general. This time away from boys has been really good for me."

But not for my vagina.

He smiled. "Good, good. You needed that."

Silence. 

"Where are you about to go?"

Chris responded, "Probably the library. I got a few CDs that need to be picked up."

"Like who?"

"Uhh, RHCP for one—"

"With or without Frusciante?"

"With, duh. Umm, got some Kanye on hold, Flaming Lips, Imogen Heap, Sonic Youth, and Tool."

Very diverse. I loved it.

"Cool. I get music from them, too. Even though I usually end up just downloading it later."

More silence.

This was ridiculous. Had I been a good girl long enough? I wanted Chris! I would be the best girlfriend to him, I wouldn't lie to him, be a bitch, or make him feel unworthy. And if he still wanted me, what was wrong with wanting him back?

Ah, fuck it. 

"Chris, I'm tired of being single. I want you. If you don't have a girlfriend, let's just go together."

Chris looked both ways, smiling, like he was confronted with something cool, but was a bit unsure.

"Are you absolutely sure? I mean, it's only been a month and a half."

I frowned. "Don't you want me back?"

Chris smiled. "Of course I do! I wouldn't keep randomly talking to you and texting you, a woman who is not mine, if I didn't. But um, you should know I have a girlfriend, and I can't exactly break up with her."

Damn. My heart sank. I cleared my throat. "Oh. When did you meet her?"

"When I was 12."

What? That made no sense.

"When you were twelve? Childhood friends?"

"Yeah. Soundgarden introduced me to her. I've been playing her ever since." He smiled and I got it. He was talking about his guitar.

I punched him in the arm. "Oh my God, you totally had me thinking the worst!" 

Chris bellowed, enjoying his trickery. Douchebag.

That's when he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me to shut me up before I said something else stupid. He hugged me tight and whispered, "I knew you wouldn't last two months."

I laughed. "Okay fine, you win."

Chris laced his hand into mine. "So are we official now?"

I scoffed. "You know this doesn't count until it's on Facebook." **

Me and Chris were together for a good three months. It was mid-November, and I was incredibly happy. We had so much fun together. Because I was making that money, we saw a few shows in school. When Delorean, Kanye, and Soundgarden came rolling through Chicago, we bought tickets and enjoyed every second of it. It was amazing. I never thought I could have fun with someone as much as me and Roy. 

Meanwhile, Andi kept pressing the topic of sex. One cold and rainy day, we were hanging out in her dorm before her boyfriend came over. I was helping her pick out a good outfit for her club date with him.

"So are y'all fucking yet?"

I laughed out loud, covering my face with one of her stolen magazines. "Andi, why do you have to be so blunt with it?"

"Because it's funny. This one or this one?" She held up two equally ugly tops. 

"I wish I had four hands, so I could give those tops four thumbs down."

She threw one of them at me, mocking my Dave Chappelle reference. 

"Well anyway, like I was saying," she continued, rummaging through her tiny closet, "frottage or not? How big is his dick? Does he eat pussy?"

"Andi, we haven't done anything yet."

"Nothing at all? Not even dry humping? Did he finger you?"

"He fingered me once, but it was only for two seconds because the fire alarm went off."

"Are you serious? So in the three months that you guys have finally been together, no sex yet?"




You've Been Flirting Again Ch. 05



I shook my head. "No. It just hasn't happened. But we make out a lot. And I've felt his dick before, it's pretty decent."

"So why the lack of humping? You obviously want him, you always telling me how hot you think he is."

"Maybe we don't need it. Maybe we're so good as a couple that we can actually function without sex." Andi gave me a look. "Girl, that's complete bullshit, and you know it. You always called me telling me how good he look, how bad you want his dick in your mouth, how you want him to eat your pussy so good that you can't even walk afterwards."

I laughed. I actually said that shit. The freaky things that came out of my mouth sometimes...

Thumbing through a random Ebony on her nightstand, I replied, "Look, we have a connection so strong that sex isn't really needed. It's not that important."

"Good. Now connect his dick to your pussy and get it over with! You will feel so much better." I sighed and threw her Ebony magazine back on her bed. After Andi picked out another disastrous dress, I yelled, "Andi, just wear that skanky American Apparel dress I bought you!" She frowned and then reached into her closet and pulled out a very short, very tight long-sleeved minidress.

"Oh yeah. Well, my search is over."

The next week, I met up with Chris at my dorm so we could do homework together. I was marveling at his new hair, which was still black, but he'd gotten a few subtle blonde streaks. It was so sexy. Not only that, but he was wearing those horn-rimmed prescription glasses—because we all know those people who put them on even though they have perfect vision—with his hair dangling in front of his face, wrinkling his nose at his complicated math homework. We're talking calculus, AKA pointless confusion.

I was reading a book for one of my English classes, highlighting the sentences that seemed important. But I was so not focusing. Chris was sitting there in his short-sleeved Atreyu t-shirt, looking like a grown scene kid, with that sleeve tattoo winking at me. He actually looked like he was doing work, too, the way he kept furiously rubbing the eraser bits from his page.

I tapped my highlighter against the page, trying to focus. Fail. 

"Chris, how's it going?"

He gave me the thumbs up. "Almost finished. How about you?" He said, without looking up.

I shook my head. "I can't focus. Maybe I need to go take a shower or something."

I kid you not, his eyes popped open wide as soon as I said 'shower.'

Chris took off his glasses. "Right now?" I sighed. "Yeah. It's one of my many ways of procrastinating."

He chuckled. "Just masturbate."

I hit him with my book. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Chris scoffed. "Duh, of course. You know how hot it is to see a girl play with herself?"

I smirked and got up. "I'll be right back." 

Quickly, I grabbed a change of clothes and went into the bathroom."

Turning on the hot water, I swiftly stripped and got inside, enjoying the heat. I loved taking showers before I had to take on a task. It was like I was going to determine my plan of action.

But first, I needed to wash my ass.

Of course, I didn't exactly go through with the washing of my ass. Instead, I thought about how Chris was in the next room doing homework, and how I could easily just call for him to come in, and we'd fuck the living shit out of each other so hard. 

I was masturbating in the shower, just thinking of everything we could do, like he wasn't right there! I don't know if it was me being paranoid about him wanting me for sex or my being nervous because I'd never had sex with a white guy, but I always felt like something made me nervous about being with him. But there was really nothing to worry about. My pubes were shaved, I had no armpit hair, and as far as I was concerned, I had a nice body.

So while I'm fingering myself and maneuvering my legs so I can hit my spots just right, the shower door opens, and there's Chris.

He sees me, completely wet, one hand clutching a boob, the other one fingering my pussy. And the look on his face was probably the sexiest/happiest I'd ever seen.

"Oh, so you took my advice."

I nodded. I moved my hand, but Chris guided it back. 

"No no, keep going. I wanna see this." He wiped his wet hand on his jeans and leaned on the wall. Then he leaned forward, his dry hand caressing my tits. "Lovely."

I looked away and back at him feeling a bit shy. "Chris, I—"

"You're so fucking hot," he uttered, looking at my naked body, water still spilling all over it. I saw him growing hard in his jeans. 

I played with my pussy a little more, watching Chris lick his lips and bite his nonexistent bottom lip.

After a few minutes, me almost cumming, he started undressing.

"Fuck this," he said, wriggling out of his jeans. "I'm coming in there with you."

"Chris, I don't have a condom!"

He took off his shirt. "I got one. But I'm not gonna fuck you yet." He shimmied out of his boxers and I saw his perfectly shaped, pink, thick dick. It wasn't enormous like Roy's, but it was definitely sizeable.

Chris stepped into the shower and pressed me to him.

"Your tits feel so awesome against me," he said, pushing me a back a little to touch my erect nipples.

He stuck his tongue out, and we started making out. He pushed me against the wall and sucked my neck, then ran his tongue all the way down my body until he got to my vagina. He shoved two fingers in my mouth and instructed me to wet them up. When I finished, he slowly inched them into my vagina.

"I like seeing you play with yourself," he kissed me. "So fucking hot. Does that feel good?" 

I moaned, "Yeah, don't stop."

What pissed me off is he actually did.

Then he grabbed his fingers and sucked them. "You taste good, babe."

I knew he was a freak.

Chris grabbed my washcloth—after he studied it like a foreign object because I was guessing most white people didn't use them, or at least that's what Andi told me—and lathered it up with my freshly acquired apple-scented liquid soap. He washed me, stopping every few seconds to kiss me and compliment my body. I noticed how he lingered for such a long time at my vagina, but I didn't care.

While he was washing me, I played with his dick, which seemed to be growing a bit, even though I thought he was already completely hard. Chris's deep, manly moans made me never want to stop stroking. I couldn't exactly get to it because of the limited space in the shower. 

We'd have to take this to the bed.

He turned off the water after cleaning all the soap off of me, then we started making out, him leaning me against the shower so we could finish kissing. I played in his wet hair, grabbed his ass, and stroked his dick.

As we were still kissing, Chris guided me to my bed, grabbing a towel on the way out. He wrapped me in it and wiped me down quickly, like he didn't want to waste any time.

"You're gonna have to keep it down. Quiet hours just started," he warned, before kissing me, pushing me further on the bed.

Chris ran a hand through his wet hair and then shook it a little, some of its water droplets hitting my body.

"Hmm, you sound like you're really good," I teased, watching him drop to his knees and spread my legs. 

"Don't wanna brag, but I am." Chris was stroking my pussy before he went in for the kill. And once he did, I let out a highly embarrassing squeal. He looked up. "I said keep it down, woman!"

Before I could even say anything, he was licking and sucking my clit in ways Roy had never done. He was soooo good at this. Chris was able to envelop my whole clit into his mouth, flicker his tongue at it, suck on it just enough where it didn't hurt, and then fuck my hole with his tongue.

I came in one minute. Then again. And again. And...you get the idea.

After the third time, I had to use a pillow. My legs were shaking, my toes curled so hard that they gained a cramp, but I was too in the moment to care. 

When I thought I could take it, grabbing my tits and squeezing my nipples, I removed the pillow. 

Chris was looking right up at me, his gorgeous eyes practically twinkling while he did his business. I saw him use his spit as lubricant, and when he pulled his tongue back, there was a line of saliva connecting him to me. He came back and motorboated my pussy.

And that's when I reinstated the pillow.

About fifteen minutes later, and I must have come a good ten times total. I was totally wet, and I swear I was dripping on my bed. He got up, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and ran his tongue from my navel up to my mouth.

"Damn Chris, where you learn that at?"

He chucked while we were kissing. "Youtube." I laughed at him, and then I got up so I could repay him. He was still a little wet from the shower, his sleeve tattoo glistening pleasantly. 

I actually had to stop for a moment and look at him. He was a little hairy around the penis area, but it wasn't gross taco-meat like. Eew.

Chris looked at me and started palming my head, stroking my wet hair. 

I took him in my hands and spit on his dick the way I'd seen in porn movies. My boobs weren't big enough to fuck, so this ridiculous hand/blow job would have to do.

After I'd coated it with enough of my personal lubricant, I basket-weaved my hands together and went up and down, stopping by the tip every now and then and squeezing. 

"Fuck yeah, that feels amazing, Ro," he whispered, making me pause momentarily so he could lay down. I resumed my position, admiring his dick with my hands, in its salmon-y colored glory.

He must have been super excited, because I saw some pre-cum bubbling from the tip, and before I knew it, he jizzed. After I cleaned up what I could with the towel, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Chris, you have such a gorgeous cock," I said, before I shoved it in my mouth and started sucking, simultaneously playing with his balls. 

Roy's dick was huge, so I couldn't fit the whole thing in my mouth, and I gagged a few times. 

Chris's was perfectly sized, and I didn't gag or anything. It looked like those penises I'd seen in porn, with the perfect crooked mushroom tip, fat but not too fat, all rosy colored, just begging for me to suck on it.

Chris's moans were intense. I stopped and smacked it against my tongue a few times, then moved on down to his balls, sucking away until he palmed the back of my head again.

"Holy fuuuuck, you are so good at this, Ro!" Chris's head was tilted back, and he was grabbing my comforter for dear life.

I put some more spit on the tip and flickered my tongue at it, my hand still grabbing it, moving up and down along with my mouth.

"Your bites feel so good against it," He moaned. I smiled. I thought they'd be painful, so I made sure to position my mouth all weird.

Chris had cum in my mouth a few times, from the minutes I was sucking. I didn't want to stop, but he actually tapped me so I'd come up for air.

That's when Chris surprised the hell out of me. He grabbed me, picked me up, and carried me over to my dresser, shoving aside my hygiene products, my back up against my mirror.

Chris picked up the condom on my dresser and put it on. He kissed me hard and then grabbed the small of my back while he entered me.

I tossed my head back until it was resting on the mirror. Chris grabbed my thighs and started thrusting, slow at first, and then fast. Real fast.

I had my fingernails digging into his back, my moans multiplying by the minute, heart rate rapid. Chris pulled my hair and whispered, "You like the way I fuck you, Ro?"

I nodded. "Yes, fuck me harder, Chris?" "Harder?" he asked. I nodded.

He stopped and then grabbed me and turned me around so I was facing the mirror. Now I could see both of us fucking. I put my leg up on the dresser, knocking something else over, and he began fucking me doggystyle.

Chris really loved pulling my hair while we fucked. It bothered me a little bit, but I found it kinky. He was thrusting so fast that the mirror kept banging against the wall.

I'm pretty sure my neighbor and the RA probably thought I was such a whore.

"Oh my God, Chris!" I grabbed the side of the mirror to keep from losing control. Chris grabbed my tits and got closer up on me, then whispered, "Look at that, that's fucking hot. Get up a little futher. I wanna see me playing with your pussy." The reacharound! Oh, how I loved the reacharound. Andi told me that if a guy gave you a reacharound, he was a keeper.

Chris laughed while I struggled to get further on the dresser so he could play with my clit. When I did, he started fucking me again, simultaneously getting his guitar fingers tangled up in me.

"Mmm, play me like your guitar, baby."

He had his clit between his thumb and index finger while he stroked. Then he played with the hood extra slow, because he must have already known my raucous orgasms occurred when someone teased the hood.

I was staring at us in the mirror. The look on his face turned me on. He was totally into this, and so was I. The contrast in our skin colors—mine dark brown, his all pale—made me even hornier. Chris grabbed my left tit while he played with my pussy, and I then I grabbed his hand.

"Let's both play with me!" I was thrusting my clit up against his hand while he fucked me from behind, and the whole time, we're both looking at the mirror. I loved that he was using his tatted arm to play with me. Eventually, I saw Chris' ultimate cum face, followed by a huge, bellowing groan. Moments afterward, I came, and I was so weakened from the orgasm, that he had to save me from falling forward into the mirror, damn near breaking it. My knees buckled. He put me back on the bed and kissed me until I was done breathing so heavily.

It was actually so good that I started laughing. Sex to me was such a weird yet cool experience, but in retrospect it was funny. All those weird faces, that crazy breathing.

Chris looked at me and propped his head on his hand, elbow up. "What is it?"

I caught my breath and turned to him. "That was soooo good. I needed that." I started stroking his stomach with my index finger, tracing the lines of where his abs would be soon—he started working out.

"I try," he meagerly responded, smiling. I started touching his snake bites and then my hand played in his hair. "Your hair's still wet."

He touched mine. "So is yours. I'm guessing you're not returning to that homework anytime soon." I shrugged my shoulders. "Eh. This is a lot more fun."

Chris sighed and smiled to himself, playing with my tits. "You have such gorgeous skin. I can't believe we waited three whole months before we did it. That's a summer vacation, dude."

I agreed. "Hell yeah. This is what we've been not doing."

Chris leaned over and kissed me. "Wanna take a nap?"

I looked at the clock. "Chris, babe, it's almost eleven. At this point we're looking at a full on slumber."

He kissed me. "Okay, let's slumber, then."

I pulled back my cover and we got underneath, Chris holding me tight. I turned to him and we made out until we fell asleep, my little fits of laughter emanating from him sucking on my bottom lip. 

That was the best freaking night ever.

Not to mention, the best freaking sex ever. It would still take me a while to get over Roy, but with Chris by my side, I didn't think it'd be too hard.

Plus, I was just eternally happy that his goodnight gesture was a make-out session, and not a smelly ass huge fart.