“Whatever.” She waved me off.
I know she probably thought that I was unnecessarily giving her a hard time about those polaroid pictures, but she looked so damn good in those pictures.Welooked good. And I wanted that to be the first thing people saw when they got in my car.
“I just know that you’re weird,” she grumbled.
“How is that?”
“Cause. Like, you never let me have a picture of myself. You hoard everything.”
“No, I don’t,” I denied. “I just rotate them on the dash.”
“Why?”
“Cause.” I gulped. “When shit get hectic in the streets, I look at the dash and remember what I’m doing it for. And it helps me to remember why I gotta make it home every night.”
“Aww,” TP playfully cooed, after I’d completely forgotten that he was back there.
Raven giggled. “You love to sweet talk me, with your bullshit ass.”
“My bullshit ass?”
“Yeah.”
“That was from the heart, girl.” I palmed my chest. “I put that on everything I love.”
“So, that’s how deep it is, huh?” She arched a brow.
“Deeper than you know.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “If it’s so deep, then tell that to that car full of freaks, right there.” She pointed at a Honda Accord packed with several girls, as we pulled up to a light.
“Alright.” I rolled my window down. “Say!” I shouted, as my head hung out of the window, capturing all the girls’ attention. “How y’all doing?”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
“Okay.”
“Cool.”
“Alright.”
“Good.”
They all spoke at once.
“That’s good.” I nodded. “Well, I just wanted y’all to know…you see this girl in my passenger’s seat? I love her. And I’ma marry her ass.”
“Aww,” most of the girls cooed.
“Well, if she fucks up, give me a call,” the driver shouted, before the light changed, and they skated off.
“No, she didn’t.” Raven laughed uncontrollably.
I pulled past the light, while she slickly reached over the console, and grabbed my hand. Gazing out of the window, she interlocked our fingers.
Knowing exactly how she was, I accepted the gesture. Raven shied away from verbally expressing herself, but she definitely had a love language to show me what was on her heart.
