The impulse to discover his motive put her life in jeopardy, but she was not afraid. She was having a heavy feeling inside of herself that he had plans for her, but he also made her feel a certain way. She could live his life just as much as he could adjust to hers. He felt dangerous, but it didn’t have a bearing on her senses. He was the bad boy she had always wanted, and she could have cared less about his history of breaking the law. He was always arrested and let go the same day, lacking the preponderance of the evidence she always figured. It didn’t matter to her. None of the negative about him mattered to her.
He had grown up on the streets, and she remembered the first day that she saw him. His complexion was one for the books. Caramel-brown from the melanin running through his DNA, free of any blemishes, perfect eyebrows, and perfect lashes…he was a beautiful man to her biased eyes. She was attracted to him, head to toe from the get-go. He dressed so fly, and his style was impeccable. He was wearing a lime green sweatsuit. It said “DOPE ERA” on the hood.
“He will be mine one day,” she said to her friend Jaz. “I swear to you.”
When she saw him, her heart fluttered. He was good-looking and had a smooth way of talking. His slang vocabulary made him even more intriguing to her, and she could not resist the tinge of danger that a relationship with him would bring to the table. He was her icing on the cake. I hit the jackpot, she thought. He was her prize, and he was the love that oozed into her heart and rang out to the world in bold letters, plangently. It was pure passion that she felt for a guy that spend the majority of his life hustling on the block. She was his good girl for his masculine domination, and he was like her jelly on the best peanut butter sandwich she had ever tasted.
Her friends exuded jealousy when they saw her smile while looking at him and him returning the smile, especially Jaz, her best friend. She was green, like the color of kelp, with envy because she was happy in his presence. She was keen to their ill feelings against him. As her eyes would scintillate in his direction, the eyes of her friends would roll and dart fire as hot as a kiln at their love. He was the skookum that they dreaded for their friend, but he was prince charming in Cateline’s eyes.
They would tell her, “Cateline, you need to apply yourself better and do better for yourself. He’s just a thug that only knows the streets.”
She would flash a fatuous smile and tell them to mind their own business. projecting their insecurities towards her and Trix’s relationship. It was her jaunt to take, not theirs. Trix Abbott was one of those guys that you could not forget, and Cateline imagined that is what had them sticking their noses where they did not belong. They were just waiting for him to slip up and for her to become sensible. There was nothing more they wanted than to see Cateline and Trix fail. It was okay that the lines blurred between them, even though her friends were on a mission to end them. It was repetitive, and their efforts were slightly annoying. They would not fail, even with all of the overspread attempts to put a halt to their passion and enjoyment of one another.
By the time the leaves changed on the trees in Chicago, they would see that they were wrong about him.