Zoo wasn’t there, or maybe he was just running late. I prayed he was running late. If Zoo missed this game, my heart would truly be broken. Although I told him I didn’t, I needed him. His presence alone was reassurance that we were okay, that our friendship was still intact. Him not being there caused a clog to form in my throat that I had a hard time clearing. I hoped he sensed that I needed him and popped up.
You did this to yourself.
Of course, I did.
Putting on my big girl panties, I decided if I was going to be hurt, I’d use that energy on this court. Not one bitch had better try me tonight. I was usually cool as a cucumber, taking verbal and physical assaults with a flick of my eyelashes. I never let my opponents get me to a place where I’d want to ruin my image over words or “fouls”. However, tonight… I’d slap a hoe.
ZOO
Cuzzo:Wya?
Me:Chillin’
Cuzzo:With who?!
Cuzzo:You know she’s looking for you.
Cuzzo:Yeen at home so where the fuck are you? It’s almost halftime, bruh.
Quitting a woman cold turkey shouldn’t cause withdrawals. At least not a woman who wasn’t yours to begin with. Shit was fucked up. I’d never been addicted to something I hadn’t had the first hit of.
Sipping my drink and ignoring Brooklyn’s messages, I slid the phone back into my pocket. The only reason I answered was so he and Sin wouldn’t come looking for my ass. I’d been laying low, focusing on getting my mind right, now that Pen and I weren’t…together. Seeing her the other day almost made me give in and try her ass again. However, the relapse would’ve likely set me back. Dealing with Pen was a humbling experience even though she pissed me the fuck off.
As a nigga used to getting whatever I wanted and having bitches fall at my feet, I wasn’t used to a woman who couldn’t have cared less about the way I looked or what was in my savings account. I never had a womannotdo the shit I asked of her without her giving me so much as a peep. Pen, on the other hand, was confident in who she was as a woman and knew damn well what she required from a man.
That wasn’t my issue with her. My issue was that with all the confidence she possessed, she still allowed outside influences to change the way she fucked with me. I couldn’t fuck with that. The woman I chose to be with for the rest of my life needed to have my back at every turn and not turn on me when shit got tough.
Pen and I were just friends, but I believed wholeheartedly that with time, I could’ve made her mine. I had the patience to wait for her to let me in the way I wanted her to. Many nights I’d slept next to her, listening to her sleep without the slightest urge to fuck her. It wasn’t because I wasn’t attracted to her because once I got between Pen’s thighs, she’d be mine for life. No, the urge to fuck her took a back seat to the urge to protect her and allow herto trust me, even in moments when sexual desires entered the atmosphere.
She truly made a nigga change, so damn right it hurt me that she thought so callously to throw away our friendship. I told her we were cool but only to keep her focused on the job at hand. I didn’t want my words to be embedded in her mind and fuck her game up the way her words had fucked up my mental.
Lunch with her family hadn’t been as awkward as I thought it would’ve been. Her mother was beautiful and sweet. Her father was like any good father, observant and protective. They loved their daughter and made it clear to me that they thought we were a fine couple, even though we weren’t a couple. That was their hint that I needed to make a move on their daughter.
A blaring horn snapped my attention to the court. From the skybox, I stood at the glass window, peering down at the players returning to the court. Pen wasn’t struggling tonight. She’d been on her game, proving to these muthafuckas that she deserved to be there. I was proud of my baby even if I was mad at her.
Two more quarters passed, and despite Pen’s efforts, her team walked away losing. The next game would be in Chicago with the series tied at one a piece. Before the stands started clearing, I made my exit. Within an hour, I was home, showered, and watching the post-game interviews and highlights.
During her interview, Pen seemed poised. The woman who looked down and defeated wasn’t sitting behind the podium with pity in her eyes. I did see sadness there, but that was only because I knew Pen and saw through the bravado she displayed in front of the media. I had to smile, though, because she’d done a fabulous job of answering her questions. Tonight, she wasn’t one-wording everyone. Maybe my pep talk had helped her.
An hour later, my alarm disengaged. Brooklyn walked into my house with a mug on his face.
“Nigga, you better be glad wasn’t no bitch up in here,” he stated. “I was gon’ beat yo’ muhfuckin’ ass.”
“Who’s muhfuckin’ ass?” I’d already had a couple of drinks tonight and the blunt I was facing had me feeling extra right. Brooklyn was trying to blow my night with his petty ass.
“Why yeen come to the game? You really outchea on some dusty nigga shit. Why you do that girl like that?” He fired off questions back-to-back, with me pushing my lips to the side and turning the television up to drown him out.
“Oh, so Sin was right? You in ya feelings over some bullshit?”
I glared at him, thinking this blunt wasn’t strong enough.
“Y’all niggas love talkin’ ‘bout me when I’ain ‘round.”
“Fuck outta here. The three of us are like brothers, so if one of us is trippin’, the other two of us is gon’ be figuring out how to get yo’ ass to line the fuck up.”
I chuckled and hit the blunt. “I’m cool, nigga. Chill out.”
“Nah, you ain’t cool. Pen was damn near in tears on that court, and I know it’s ‘cause you wasn’t there. I get she made you feel some type of way, but not being there to support her is bullshit, bruh.”
