Gettin' Hooked

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Gettin' Hooked Page 3

by Nyomi Scott


  The keys jingled, then the alarm beeped as he unlocked the doors.

  “This is a hella nice ride.”

  “Thanks. An early graduation gift.”

  “Really early.” Two months remained before Senior Prom; it’d be another couple of weeks after that until graduation.

  Maurice just shifted his shoulders, but didn’t look up. “True.” He was riffling through his bag, then came up with a sweatshirt that he shrugged into.

  A few minutes later we were sitting in his car, the heater blasting and the stereo pumped so loud that the bass pulsed through the seat and my body.

  He asked, “Which way?” leaning toward me.

  To be heard over the music, I guess, but he was so freakin’ close I could feel the warmth of his breath on my ear and swooshing down my neck. There was a lump in my throat that had to be worked free before I could reply.

  After giving him directions, we drove to the rhythm of the beats bumping from the speakers, but as we moved through the gates of my condo complex less than five minutes later, he leaned forward and lowered the tunes.

  “Why don’t you have a profile?”

  “On GettinHooked.com?” He’d checked?

  “Yeah.”

  “Just haven’t really had time.”

  “What number?”

  “218.” I pointed the condo out.

  “But you are?”

  I didn’t really want a profile. I didn’t want other dudes checking me out—aaalll riiight, the checking out was cool, but I didn’t wanna have to deal with guys wanting to get hooked up. There was one reason—one guy—I wanted.

  And he was sitting next to me.

  Biting my lip, I thought over all the freakin’ reasons I’d given Kayla for the skipping out on MySpace and starting GettinHooked. Fishing for a good one, I only came up with “Yeah, I’m into gettin’ hooked, too.” Lame.

  “Don’t know why ya need it, girl. You look hella good. You’re crackin’.” He’d pulled into a parking spot and put his car in Park, but hadn’t turned off the engine.

  I was straight-up thankful for the fact that it didn’t look like he was getting out. But I needed to. I needed fresh air. Cool, fresh air to chill out the heat flaming on my skin. “Thanks,” I said, knowing my voice cracked.

  Glancing from my condo back toward Maurice, I realized junk was about to flow from my lips I wasn’t ready for yet. Like telling him just how hot I thought he was. Like confessing the reason I’d delayed setting up my whack little profile was because I’d been waiting for him to do his so I could match it up to mine.

  “I should jet.” I opened the door and had one foot out when his hand settled over mine, warm and firm.

  “Imani.”

  Gulping in a deep breath, then letting it out slowly, I turned to look at him. “Yeah?”

  “I’ll do your site thang.”

  I just stared at him, my heart rate hitting its stride—wild and fierce. He gave a little nod, like he knew my reaction. Grinning, I stepped out of the car. “Hot.”

  Saying nothing else, I moved away from the car and up the cement steps leading to the front door of the condo. He just sat idling in his car until I was inside, but I watched through the window when he drove away a few moments after I was secured inside.

  My hands were shaking hella bad as I pulled out my cell phone from my backpack and started pounding out a text message to Kayla, but I paused, then deleted before it was done. My feelings for him were my secret.

  Dropping the phone back into my pack, I headed for my room, the evening’s plans set. Hot shower, fresh clothes, hot meal, set up my GettinHooked.com profile.

  CHAPTER 4

  I curled up on the family room couch, settling the plate of microwaved pizza rolls across my knees, and watched as Kayla used her dad’s new laptop to scroll through the pages that had been added to GettinHooked.com over the weekend. Our site was poppin’ off like mad, going from less than a dozen wanna-get hooked participants to close to forty in just two days.

  “How come you haven’t done one yet?” Kayla asked, glancing up at me, half her long blond hair in her face. She was sitting on the thick carpet, leaning back against the couch with the laptop on the coffee table.

  “I did one.” I just hadn’t launched it yet, so no one else could see how I’d done up on my profile.

  “Don’t see it.”

  “I know. I’m not done.” I’m not sure why I was hedging, or why the thought of having my page up twisted my stomach into whack little knots. I put a pizza roll in my mouth, my eyes watering slightly at the heat and making me wish I’d waited until they’d cooled down. Maybe I was straight trippin’ for not wanting to talk about my profile, even with my cousin.

  Or maybe I was just stalling until Maurice had done his. Once he had his profile up, I’d be able to check out his likes and dislikes. Maybe with a little creative question-answering, I could hook my page up so he’d dig what he read about me.

  “Imani?” She touched my knee lightly and slanted her head.

  “Hmm?”

  “Everything okay?”

  The chick knew me too well. I swallowed the bite in my mouth and nodded. “Yeah, girl, I’m aiight.” I don’t know what was up with me recently, all these crazy like emotions were really getting to me.

  “You sure?”

  “Fa sheezy.”

  Kayla stared at me for a bit longer like she was trying to see what was really going down, then shrugged and looked back to the computer. After a quick sec, she turned the monitor toward me. “Did you see these yet?”

  There was a dude’s page up on the screen. He was hella cute, with a smile that reminded me of Ray J. She waited until I nodded, then hit the next tab bringing up another hottie. “These are Creekside boys.” She grinned. “See anything you like?” she teased, adding an eyebrow wiggle.

  “They’re fine.” But they weren’t Maurice. They weren’t the man I was looking to snag as my prom date. I munched down on another roll.

  “There’s some hella hot guys at your school, Imani. How come you’ve never hooked me up before?”

  I couldn’t help smiling at her, there was so much eagerness shining in her blue eyes. Made me want to laugh, though I was feeling her on the enthusiasm. Our site was going to do exactly what we’d hoped it would. I could just feel it. “You never asked, girl.”

  She giggled, hitting Next again to bring up the image of another dude from Howard. My school.

  “Did you hear that Missy and Jason are talking?”

  “Told you she was a bopper.”

  “Hey!” she said between her laughter as she reached over and smacked my leg. “She’s cool.”

  “Guess Jason thinks so.” I winked, then popped another piece of the pizza roll into my mouth.

  “You think he’ll—” Kayla was interrupted by the chirping of her cell phone. Holding up a just-a-sec finger, she flipped it open, turning her attention right quick to the caller rather than the newly hooked couple we’d been talking ’bout.

  “In my family room.” She flicked through a few more pages on the computer screen, then reached for the remote and turned down the videos on TV. “Yep, she’s here, too. Come over.”

  Figuring she was talking to one of her girls, I let my thoughts wander back to the bummed-out weekend I’d had, and the short-ass visit with my dad.

  He’d flown in Friday mid-morning while I was at school, then spent most of the afternoon at doctor offices with Gram. Later that night, Gram made a rare appearance in the kitchen and fixed these hella smokin’ greens that have been my dad’s fave since he was a kid and were off the chain.

  It was all gravity, hanging Friday night catching up on things with my dad and just chillin’ at the crib, something I don’t get to do too often with him jetting around the world all the time. We were up late, but then he slept all day Saturday, his body all jacked up because of the whacked-out time zone thing.

  Sunday had been cool. It’d rained again, pretty hard, too, so we
stayed in and watched movies and grubbed on tons of popcorn. But by evening, I was feeling blue, knowing come morning my dad was blowing our joint to hit the skies again.

  And fo’ sho’, this AM, he dropped me off at school on his way to the airport, giving me some grip just before he drove off. Like a couple C-notes could make up for not having him around enough.

  “Hi,” I heard Kayla say, yanking me back onto the couch and out of my thoughts. I picked up a pizza roll right quick and plopped it in my mouth to make it look like I was doing something other than sitting like a lump of sludge on my cousin’s couch feeling sorry for myself.

  Taking a deep breath, I forced away the burn of tears behind my eyes and swallowed the lump of emotion in my throat, then slanted a glance toward the person Kayla had said “hi” to.

  Maurice. Snap.

  Breathing halted in my chest, burning my lungs.

  Heat splashed across my cheeks, and I struggled to chew and swallow the chunk of food I’d just shoved between my lips. I forced a closed-mouth smile. And checked him out. He was dressed hella tight today, in a long-sleeve black Under Armour tee beneath a Raiders’ jersey, baggie black FUBU jeans and some clean Jordan 20’s.

  He looked edible, those full lips of his grinning at me. All casual like, he bent and gave Kayla a hug. “What up, girl?”

  After a sec, he angled his body and sat down on the couch between where Kayla sat on the floor leaning against it and where I cuddled in the corner. There wasn’t much space, no way enough for his muscular frame, but he sat anyway, his body coming in full contact with mine from the knee up the thigh to our shoulders.

  Relaxing into the cushions, he shifted, the hard edges of his body pressing closer, the warmth of him seeping through my clothing. My pulse roared, and I had to turn my face away to keep from inhaling a deep whiff of his yummy scent—all male, Maurice and Curve cologne.

  Looking as good as he does, I’d have thought he was frontin’ Big Willie style, but his ego was kept in check. He must have known he was hexa fine, but he didn’t act like he deserved a little somethin’-somethin’ extra because of it.

  “Hey, girlie.” He nudged me with his elbow gently, then leaned over and plucked the last piece of pizza from the plate with an added wink that caused his dimples to appear. “You been hiding, Imani?”

  His voice was low and intimate, like we were alone and knew each other better. Kayla’s head swiveled hella fast in my direction, her big, blue eyes wide and questioning.

  I shook my head, having a hard concentrating on his question rather than how close he was to me. The way he was touching me. “Marinating.”

  “Nice.” A short chuckle escaped his lips, which then closed around the roll. Realizing I was staring, I busied myself with putting the empty plate on a side table.

  We were quiet for a minute, the only sound in the room a soft bass rhythm coming from the video on BET. Beyoncé was blowing. When Maurice finished chewing, he lounged casually on the sofa, seemingly perfectly comfortable in Kayla’s home. All smack-dab up against me. Not that I minded, hell no, I was straight digging it.

  “You didn’t do your page.”

  Not a question, which means he’d checked. Oh, shit, my heart was racing too frickin’ fast. “Not yet.”

  “Thought we were.”

  That did it. My cousin was wondering what the hell was going on and I could tell by her expression she was just seconds away from asking. And I didn’t want her to, because I wasn’t anywhere near ready to answer. Even if I had one.

  Forcing a laugh, I replied, “We are.” Trying to keep things light and Kayla shut-up, I laughed again and patted his knee. “Did you see all the new pages? Show him, K.” Our gazes all locked up, I silently pleaded with her to let it drop. For now. I knew she’d be all over it as soon as we were alone again.

  There was a bit of hesitation and her mouth pursed, words just about forming on her lips, but then she shrugged and broke eye contact with me, splitting her attention between the computer and the fine-ass boy sitting beside me.

  “Peep all these.” She moved to the girls’ pages, then started clicking the mouse through each profile, giving Maurice a quick second to look at each.

  “More added.”

  “Yup. Hey, Imani, two more added while we sat here.”

  “Boys or girls?” I asked.

  “Girls.”

  Gritting my teeth, I squeezed my lids closed for a brief moment, hoping like hell the girls weren’t pretty. Or at least not the kind of goodies Maurice was into.

  Laughter filled the room. One of the Creekside girls was showing a hella lot of skin in her pictures. “That duck looks like a ho.”

  Kayla laughed. “No kidding. Look at these shots.” She clicked on some of the girl’s other photos.

  “This yours?” Maurice asked, his fingers draping across my thigh as he swooped my cell phone from my lap.

  I nodded, but tried to keep my focus on my cousin as she showed us the profile of the second newly added wanna-prom-date girl. From the corner of my eye, I could see Maurice open my phone.

  What was he doing? I wondered, as his thumb moved through files, his gaze shifting from the tiny screen to the monitor and pages on my uncle’s computer. What was he doing? Reading text messages? All my recent messages played out in my mind, hoping there wasn’t anything incriminating. There shouldn’t be. My feelings for him were still on the down low. Except for whatever Kayla suspected was going on. Not that I knew.

  But I didn’t think he was reading my messages anyway, his thumb was moving through the pages too quickly. Was he checking numbers? Seeing who I had listed in my phone book? Was he curious if I had a lot of guys?

  Kayla was saying something else, but I wasn’t even sure she was speaking English let alone knew what she was saying, even though I kept my gaze steady in her direction.

  The cool, hard plastic of my phone was tucked into my palm, and Maurice’s strong hands eased my fingers closed around it. Glancing up, I looked into his dark eyes, then arched a brow at him.

  He chuckled. “Programmed my number,” he answered, reading my look.

  My lips moved, but my throat was tight and dry and no real sound came out. “Thanks.”

  He nodded.

  Kayla had stopped talking and was openly staring at us again.

  Wetting my lips, I took a couple shallow breaths, trying to slow the thumpin’-bumpin’ beat of my heart. My hands shook, and not wanting Maurice to feel, I pulled away from him, scrambling to my feet.

  “I’ve got to jet, K. Tons of homework.” I grabbed my pack from the floor and yanked it over a shoulder.

  “Wanna ride?” Maurice and Kayla asked at the same time. My cousin was looking at me all puzzled like. He was about to stand.

  “Nah. I’ll walk.” There were days—and this was one of ’em—that I needed the time alone to shift through things in my head. I’d be wet by the time I made it home; the rain was still coming down lightly. But the cool air and damp conditions were exactly what I needed.

  “I’ll text you,” I said to Kayla, but I couldn’t even look her in the eye. “You, too?” I lifted my phone and arched a brow at him again. He’d understood both times, because he grinned and nodded.

  Turning away, I left the family room, moving away from the sound of Akon and Snoop’s latest. I was about in the kitchen, the way I always came and went from their house, when I heard my auntie talking. It took me a sec to realize she was talking on the phone and not to me.

  Her words made me falter, then flatten my back against the wall, the baby hairs at the nape of my neck prickling.

  “She’s here now,” my auntie said softly. After a pause she added, “Don’t you want to know about her?”

  She shook her head, her back to me, and I could tell by the way her shoulders moved that she let out a deep sigh.

  “Well, okay. Talk to you soon.” She hung up the phone and let it drop onto the tile counter with a thunk, before she moved toward the stove.


  But I stayed where I was, near the kitchen door, my back against the wall and my knees shaking so badly, I doubt I coulda walked right away. Who’d been on the phone? I couldn’t help wondering. Something nagged at me. Something made breathing difficult and left me confused and completely depleted of energy.

  To hell with the winter weather doing me good. I shoulda told Maurice I wanted that ride home. Wedging my bottom lip between my teeth, I pushed from the wall, the movement attracting my auntie’s attention.

  She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Oh, sweetie, I didn’t see you there.”

  “Just headed home,” I lied, unwilling to confess how whack I’d been to listen in on the ending to her conversation.

  “It’s nasty outside. Let me give you a ride.” She looked at me again, then quickly back at the pot on the stove. But not so quickly that I didn’t see the shimmer of guilt in eyes the same shade of blue as Kayla’s.

  I shifted my backpack from one shoulder, sliding in the second arm. “I’ll just walk.” And then I was across the room and out the slider door, the blast of wind and rain stinging my face. The relief intense.

  Damn near running by the time I hit the street, I was hella trippin’ over what had happened in there. First Maurice sitting all up on me, then putting his number in my phone, then my auntie talking on the phone.

  Shit, it coulda been anyone on the other end of the line. Coulda been about anyone. But I couldn’t help the twisting of my gut, the nagging suspicion that it wasn’t just anyone, it was my mom.

  CHAPTER 5

  Ten days ago all anyone talked about was MySpace. Who they were talking to, who they’d met, who was fine, who was leavin’ crazy-ass comments on whose page. Ten days ago, I spent whack hours updating my profile, changing the songs and videos, uploading silly pictures from my digital camera.

  Ten days ago, I’ve got to admit, MySpace was the shit. But that was before GettinHooked.com blew up our zip code.

  Now MySpace was hardly mentioned at all, and I heard nothing but buzz over our Web site and the whole prom date hook-up thang. My girls were all over this, hyped on the chance to check out the dudes at Creekside.

 

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