“Damn. Twitter tea proves to be stale once again. Well, how was it overall at least? Great, not so great? Horrible? You been dead silent since Saturday.”
I push my thighs close together and twist the lower half of my body to stop the tingling. “How was what?”
“Keep up, Phat. Splashtown.”
Oh,that. It was nothing like the parties me and Ace have. It wasn’t explosive, like his face between my legs, and Casamigos tasted nothing like his tongue. Splashtown didn’t ask me for forever or slide its fingers inside me like it was lost and searching for home.
“It was lame,” I reply, swiping my tongue across my lips. “You didn’t miss nothing.”
She exhales. “Phew! I just knew you and lil’ Calvin Cambridge had fun without me.”
Even her dig at Bryson doesn’t make me laugh. Somehow Splashtown was like a turning point for my mind and body. They were consumed with Ace and I didn’tthinkI liked Bryson anymore. I knew I didn’t.
“Phat?” Bryson’s curly mop blocks the beaming sun as he walks up to us.
“Speak of the devil,” Chelsea grumbles. “You’re gonna live a long time, Tiny Tim.”
“Man, not today, a’ight?”
She snickers and looks off.
“You can’t answer my texts and calls, Phat?” he asks. “I even DM’d you.”
I shrug.
All I hear is Ace’s deep “fuck him” in the back of my head and his irrational thoughts of what could’ve happened to me while I wandered off into a sea of drunk strangers.
“Somebody could’ve taken advantage of you,”he said, pushing a solo cup to his lips in the kitchen the next morning.
After it came out, he buried his face into my neck like it wasn’t supposed to.
“Oh, so we just shrugging now? That’s how it is?” Bryson asks.
“You wasn’t so concerned about me when you let me go off by myself Saturday. I don’t remember a lot, but I remember that.”
Chelsea gasps, pushing up on her knees. “You left my bestie for dead at that party?”
“Please, mind your business.” He pushes his hand out toward her.
“No! Anything could’ve happened to her.”
“You wasn’t even there!”
“Negro, I ain’t have to be there to know that’s not something you effing do.”
Chelsea’s alternative curse words and irrational thoughts that sound like Ace’s makes me push up from the blanket.
I shouldn’t have done that because now I’m face to face with Bryson. His red cheeks don’t even make me soft anymore.
“I didn’t call because LaQuan told me he saw you leaving out with Ace.”
Chelsea lets out another ragged gasp.
“He said you came out the girls’ bathroom with him,” he adds.
“It’s even worse than I thought.” Chelsea pants. “Lourdes, di—did he do something to you? Bryson, I could ki—”
“Kill me? Kill me for what?Sheleft with that nigga.”
