I LIKE THE WAY YOU HURT: A Dark Interracial High School Bully Romance

Home > Other > I LIKE THE WAY YOU HURT: A Dark Interracial High School Bully Romance > Page 2
I LIKE THE WAY YOU HURT: A Dark Interracial High School Bully Romance Page 2

by Lorrain Allen


  I can’t be selfish; my mom deserves this. She’s looking at me with a hopeful look on her face. My mom has suffered enough. I don’t want her to feel bad about her decision to relocate.

  “So, what’s the plan, Mom?” I ask.

  The apprehension on her face has been replaced with relief.

  “I have a video interview scheduled in two weeks, hopefully, all goes well, and I’m made the offer of employment. Michael and I plan to have the wedding and reception at a luxury hotel in downtown Los Angeles on the first Saturday in August. By the second week, we’ll be packing up to make the move to West Virginia. Orientation for teachers is the third week of August. I’ll need to learn the policies and procedures, become familiar with the curriculum, and set up my classroom. Students start after Labor Day.”

  My head is spinning. This is too much information to take in. Everything is happening way too fast for my equilibrium. I try to keep an excited expression on my face, but it’s hard. This is too much for me. How did my life change so drastically in the span of a few minutes? I’m a big girl. I’ll just have to make the best out of this situation.

  “Everything is going to be so great, baby. I want you to help me plan everything. Michael will be here in the morning to take us to breakfast, so we can discuss the details.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Wonderful, he’ll be here at 9:00 a.m. to pick us up.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask because food always brightens my mood.

  “I’m not sure baby, I didn’t ask.” My mom grabs my hand. “Oh baby, the proposal was so romantic.”

  “Where did he propose?”

  “He took me to The Getty Center. We walked around, looking at art. We had dinner, and then we took a walk through the garden. That’s where he proposed. I had no idea. It was a surprise. I’m so happy, Cocoa.”

  “I know Mom, I’m happy for you, too.”

  “Okay baby, I’m going to let you get some rest.” My mom leans over to kiss my cheek. “Goodnight, Cocoa.”

  “Goodnight, Mom.”

  I lie awake for hours after my mom leaves. I’ll have to call Lo, Saint, and Micah in the morning to tell them the news. We’ve all been friends since elementary school, so they were there during those dark years after my father died. This move will affect them just as much as me. We’ve been thick as thieves forever. They’ll hate that I’m moving and won’t be around for senior year. This was supposed to be an epic year for us.

  I’ll come back to visit them every chance I get, and I know they’ll do the same. I shouldn’t be so upset. It’s easy for me to make friends. It’s not hard for me to fit in wherever I go. I’m not stuck on myself, but I know I turn a lot of heads. I’m definitely not as tall as my mother at 5’4, but I’m just as beautiful. I have a caramel complexion from top to bottom; my skin, hair, and eyes. My curly hair stops at mid-back. I have pouty lips, a small waist, big breasts, a round ass, and thick thighs, courtesy of my dad’s mom. The plus side of moving to Montgomery, West Virginia is that I’ll be closer to my dad’s side of the family, so that’s something to look forward to. Things are looking up already.

  The next morning, my mom and Michael are practically gushing over each other. While I’m happy for them, it’s enough to make me sick. We’re eating breakfast at a café to discuss wedding plans and the pending move. I’m eating a French breakfast of Quiche Florentine and tea. I did a web search on my future residence and discovered that Montgomery, West Virginia is a small town with a population of about four thousand people. I’ll have to travel a bit further to get to the places I like to visit, such as the movie theater, nail salon, and mall. I’ll have to put in my two weeks’ notice at the coffee house where I work part-time after school. Cindy will be so upset. I’m her best-seasoned employee. I’ll try to prepare and train the other employees as best as I can. If I really wanted to stay in Los Angeles, my mom would let me, even though it would break her heart.

  I’ve been working at the coffee house since I was fifteen. I searched and applied for jobs on my own to the dismay of my mother. She just wanted me to focus on school, but I promised her that I could do both. My GPA is 4.0, I’m no Einstein but I can get by in the classroom. I consider myself very independent, mature, and responsible for my age. I saved money to purchase my own car, a Ford Focus. It’s not the most glamorous car, but it’s mine. My mom one-hundred percent supports me financially, but the little extra things I want, such as my bi-weekly trips to the nail salon, I finance myself.

  I’m a girly girl, so I love my mall, hair, and nail salon visits. That reminds me; I need to make an appointment with my braider. I want box braids before the move.

  Michael is the complete opposite of my dad. I was a little shocked when I first met him. Where my dad was an alpha male type, Michael is more the timid geek with his black-rimmed glasses. He’s still a handsome man though. I can see why my mom fell head over heels in love with him. He’s five years older than her.

  Like my mom, Michael was also previously married, and just like my mom, Michael tragically lost his spouse, but she died from cancer. I’m sure my grandparents would be pleased that their daughter is finally marrying a white man. They would gladly bring her back into the fold, but my mom doesn’t want anything to do with them, because they would never accept me as their granddaughter.

  “Cocoa, are you listening, honey?”

  My mom must’ve been speaking to me.

  “I’m sorry, I missed what you said,” I reply.

  “Michael will be able to enroll you in Montgomery Academy.”

  “Isn’t the tuition expensive there?”

  “Not really, $15,000 a year,” says Michael in his country accent.

  “Mom, I don’t want you or Michael to be financially burdened by sending me to an expensive private school.”

  “It won’t be a financial burden. As a tenured employee and considering the fact that you’ll be my stepdaughter soon, I’m able to receive a forty percent discount on tuition for you. All you have to do is maintain a 3.5 GPA or higher, which I’m sure is no problem for you. Your mother told me you’re as smart as a whip.”

  I hope my mom hasn’t oversold my academic abilities to Michael.

  “Isn’t this exciting, baby?” Mom asks.

  I don’t know if going to school with a bunch of snobby kids is my idea of exciting.

  “Montgomery Academy is an elite private school. They have excellent extracurricular activities. I know you like cheerleading and have an interest in journalism. You’ll have the pick of top colleges and scholarship opportunities,” says Michael.

  Now, this gets my attention. “Really?”

  “Absolutely. Montgomery Academy is one of the most prestigious private schools in West Virginia.”

  I can put up with a few snobby kids for this opportunity.

  “Later today, I’ll order you a few uniforms on the Montgomery Academy website. Michael will receive a discount for that as well.”

  “Uniform?”

  “Yes honey, Montgomery Academy is a private school, so uniforms are required. It’s not like your current high school.”

  Well, that sucks—I won’t be able to bring my fabulous sense of style to my new school.

  “So, let’s finish talking about the wedding, shall we?” says Michael.

  “Let’s,” replies my mom.

  “So, what’s the plan?” I ask.

  “I couldn’t sleep last night in my excitement,” Mom says, “so I researched last-minute wedding package deals. I completed a few inquiry forms on websites. I plan to start visiting venues as soon as possible baby, and I want you to come with me.”

  “Just let me know when you’re going.”

  “This is going to be a very small wedding since I only have a few friends and colleagues to invite. Michael’s family is spread all over the United States, so we don’t expect them to travel to California with such short notice, but those who can are welcome to come. I don’t need a fancy dress. I was think
ing about a simple, elegant dress, and of course, Cocoa I want you to be my maid of honor. My colors will be cream and royal purple.”

  “I would love to, Mom.”

  “The wedding packages are ideal for me because I won’t have to concern myself with figuring out the smallest details. Everything will be planned for me. I’m finally able to spend all the money I’ve been saving over the years on something I really want. Since you’re good at makeup and hair, I’ll designate that as your responsibility.”

  When my mom is excited, she can’t stop talking, and I find it hilarious.

  “The next few weeks will be super busy, baby. We have to prepare for the wedding, pack, hire movers, and find a realtor to put the house up for sale. We won’t be able to drive our cars to West Virginia. It’s about a thirty-five-hour ride, so we’ll need to have them shipped there. It’ll cost a pretty penny, but it’s better than putting the miles on our cars.”

  “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll help with the packing and cost of moving. It’ll be a breeze, you’ll see. I’ll be at your service, just tell me how I can be of assistance,” says Michael, giving my mom a peck on the lips.

  “This is a new beginning for us. I can’t wait to start the next chapter in my life,” my mom says.

  We finish up breakfast with plans to start the process for the big changes that are about to occur in our lives.

  The next month flies by in a frenzy of activity, meetings with the hotel wedding planner, packing and helping my mom choose the perfect dress. My mom received an offer of employment for the history teacher position at Montgomery Preparatory. Everything is going according to plan. It’s the big day. We went to the spa yesterday for French manicures and pedicures, facials, and massages. My mom is sitting in a chair at the vanity in front of the mirror while I curl her hair. She’s wearing a cream-colored, cowl neck court train charmeuse gown, with ruffle lace beading sequins and cream-colored high heels. I already applied my mom’s makeup. I kept her makeup simple and sweet. I coated a very small amount of foundation over her face with a little pink-colored blush. I chose a matte bone eye shadow, blended with a neutral shimmery champagne color, in the corner of her eyes, and just underneath the brow bones. I finished off with black cream eyeliner, mascara, and a nude lipstick. She looks radiant.

  I’m wearing a tulle royal purple sleeveless floor-length dress with a V neckline and cream-colored high heels that are a different style from my mom’s. I decide to allow my massive curls free rein. I don’t apply foundation to my face—my caramel skin doesn’t need it. I applied the same shimmery champagne shade across my eyelids up to the crease, then used a fluffy blending brush to buff a matte eggplant shadow in the outer corner on the crease. Just like my mom, I finish off with black cream eyeliner, but I’m wearing a deep red lipstick.

  Instead of wearing a tiara, my mom chose to wear a floral crown made with plum and lavender colored roses, with green and purple pip berries on braided vine wire.

  “Done,” I say as I pick up the floral crown lying on the vanity and place it on my mother’s head.”

  My mother stands up and turns towards me, embracing me in a strong hug.

  “I want to thank you Cocoa, for being so open about me marrying Michael and moving us to West Virginia. I know this can’t be easy for you. I love you,” she says as tears form in her eyes.

  “Mom don’t cry, because you’ll mess up your makeup, then I’ll cry because you’re crying and mess up my makeup too.”

  My mom gives a little laugh. We hear someone knock on our hotel room door. I detangle myself from my mom’s strong hold to walk over to the door to open it.

  “Hi sweetheart, you look beautiful,” says Uncle Rob as he steps inside the room.

  “Hi, Uncle Rob, you don’t look too bad yourself,” I say as I give him a hug.

  He’s wearing a black tuxedo with a royal purple vest and tie. Uncle Rob has always been a lady’s man, with his thick jet-black hair, green eyes, and tall, muscular frame.

  “Rob, thank you for agreeing to walk me down the aisle,” my mom says as she walks over and gives him a hug.

  “You’re welcome. I will always be here for you.”

  It’s true—my mom was in a very dark place when my dad died. Uncle Rob was there to help her pick up the pieces as best as he could. He’s like a second father to me. My mom was like a ghost for several years after.

  “I’m here to escort you, two lovely ladies, downstairs.”

  The wedding procession will be a small one.

  Michael’s cousin, who resides in Seattle, was able to attend the wedding as his best man. A few other relatives were able to attend, as well. Michael and his cousin will already be at the wedding arch when I walk down the aisle, my mom will follow soon after. My mom’s wedding will be simple and intimate, just how she wanted it, with about thirty people in attendance.

  The wedding is being held in a small but elegant ballroom. Chairs draped in a cream-colored covering, with a royal purple satin sash to form a bow at the back, are set up to form the aisle my mom will walk down. The reception will be in the outdoor patio space. Tables are covered in a royal purple table cloth, surrounded by cream-colored chairs, with a clear vase of purple flowers as the centerpiece.

  “Wonderful,” my mom says.

  “I’ll grab your bouquet,” I say.

  My mom’s beautiful bouquet is made with Lisianthus, Roses, and Aspidistra.

  We leave the room to head towards the ballroom.

  Jessica, the wedding planner provided by the hotel, is waiting outside the ballroom. She walks towards us as we approach.

  “Wow, you look amazing, Kelly,” she says to my mom.

  “Thank you. And thank you for making my special day so amazing with such short notice.”

  “No problem, I was happy to help.”

  “Are you ready?” Jessica asks me.

  “Yes.”

  “Great, follow me.”

  We stop in front of the entrance to the ballroom. I can hear a pianist playing slow classical music through the closed double doors.

  When I open the doors, stepping through, all eyes turn to me. I slowly make my way down the aisle and then stand to the left of the wedding arch that’s decorated in purple flowers. Michael and his cousin are wearing the same tuxedo as Uncle Rob. Reverend McDonald from our church will be presiding over the ceremony.

  The pianist switches to playing Canon in D. Everyone stands, and a few seconds later, the doors are opened to allow my mother entrance to the ballroom. The fire in my mom’s eyes that was extinguished after the passing of my dad is shining bright again. I’m happy that my mom will not be alone when I go to college next year.

  I turn my gaze to Michael. The look on his face is telling me everything I need to know. He will love my mom unconditionally and do whatever it takes to keep her happy. This is the second epic love my mom has had in her life when most people don’t even have one. The ceremony goes quickly and smoothly. Michael and my mom light the unity candle, say their ‘I do’s and jump the broom. The wedding is beautiful and a lot of great memories are made at the wedding reception. The happy couple cut the cake, have their first dance, the best man gives a toast, and guests take turns congratulating the newly married couple over the microphone. At the end of the wedding, I go to the hotel room alone, while my mom goes with Michael. In the next two weeks, my life will be drastically changing.

  “I can’t believe this is your last day in Los Angeles, chica. This was supposed to be our year,” says Lo, taking a large gulp of whiskey from her flask.

  Lo, short for Lolita, is a 5’2 Latina lesbian with a fuck-you attitude. She’s the complete opposite of me, with her short hair, gauged ears, eyebrow and lip ring, and an assortment of colorful tattoos. She rebels against anything girly. Lo is wearing a black Guns N’ Roses graphic t-shirt and denim shorts. People find it hard to believe we’re friends, but I don’t follow the social order in high school. My friends are my friends, and whoever has a problem with th
at can kiss my ass. I’m a cheerleader, but I don’t hang out with cheerleaders. They’re a bunch of boy-crazy, catty, backstabbing bitches, but I like to cheer. Lo can take care of herself. She’s a brawler and despite her size, she can fuck shit up so bitches know not to fuck with her.

  Lo, Saint, Micah, and I are on her back deck, sitting on patio furniture. We’re spending my last day in Los Angeles together. It makes me sad to think I might lose contact with them, and never see them again, but I’m determined to keep in touch.

  “You should let me get a taste of that pussy before you go,” Lo says.

  Saint and Micah laugh.

  “Sorry, I’m strictly dickly,” I reply.

  “You’re lost if you never want to feel this tongue between your legs.”

  I give her the finger.

  Despite our platonic friendship, Lo is an outrageous flirt. She’s a woman-whore and leaves a trail of broken hearts behind her.

  “Send me pictures of some of those West Virginia girls. I want to see what they’re working with so, when I come to visit you, I’ll have an idea of what to expect,” says Micah, taking a long pull from his cigarette, then parts his lips to let the smoke slowly drift his mouth.

  I roll my eyes heavenward.

  “I second that motion,” adds Lo as she lights a joint.

 

‹ Prev